Two Hundred Years Together Novels & Stories

She held his hand in the autumn dusk at the eastern perimeter of the joint territory and felt the bond — the same bond, the one that had hit like a blade in a summit hall twenty years ago and that was now this: quiet, constant, entirely at rest. Not a roar. Not a chain. Just the ground. The specific warm solid ground of something chosen so many times it had become the foundation everything else stood on. She thought: yes. She thought: put it in the ledger. She thought: all twenty years of it. She thought: yes.

The egg slid neatly inside with no shell. "You seem to be close with him. How long have you worked here?" She looked up at me when she picked another egg. "Two years," My eyes lit. "That is-I wasn't expecting that." She was smiling again. "Because he's a hard man to be with?" "Well yes." "I've come around enough to know that he is a very impatient man and can be very unapologetic but once you get used to it, you'll know that he's a good man."

“Most people haven’t.” He took a slow step closer to the glass. “They were wiped out twenty years ago.”

"Please do not be concerned with it any longer; I think that I should consider what you said. Maybe Tasnim shall be happier if she sees this man." "So you saying that you shall be fine if she lives with this curse?" "We have been looking for over two hundred years; I think I can safely say it is time for us to stop looking." "You do not know how relieved I am to hear you say that. I am afraid the rest of the witches that are left; I was bound to have had an encounter with." "Exactly how many women have you had encounters with?" "My friend, I am well past two hundred years; I am sure you can do the math."

I advised him. "He hurt you Baby and anyone that does must surely pay for it," he kissed my hair. "Just don't do anything crazy" he hugged me sideways and kissed my cheeks. "Tell me about yourself, Adonis," I asked. "There's nothing to tell," he simply replied. "Anything is okay," "I've lived for two hundred years" My mouth was wide open in both shock and surprise. "You're two hundred years old," I asked rhetorically and he nodded. "Like, two hundred, not fifty, not hundred, not one fifty but two hundred years"

" The voice was tiny and on top of her. Rolape looked up to stare at someone petite standing on the quadrangle with a beaming smile. ONE. THOUSAND. YEARS. Thank you for

He added with a carefree attitude. "Told you so?" Daniel turned to me. "So, are you two like official?" Asked Luca. "C'mon dude, I've only known her for like two weeks. And we've barely had personal conversations." I said to him, overwhelmed by what he asked. Talk about overbearing. "He has a point." Said Daniel, turning to Luca. "So what happened while you two 'excused' yourselves." He was being sarcastic, the air quotes he used was smacking me in the face.

It connected them, wove them, made them one. And in the darkness, for the first time in two thousand years, light began to dawn.

TWO YEARS LATER Two years old feels heavier than it sounds. Diana knows this as she stands by the window, watching the backyard slowly fill with people she once thought would never live long enough to argue about tablecloths and cake flavors. Two years is not just candles and balloons. It is survival stacked on top of survival until it starts to look like a life. Atlas turns two today.

The secretary nodded, "Yes. The chairman, he appeared to be of similar age as the chairman." Robert hurriedly walked, and when he impatiently pushed open the office door, both he and William, who was sitting on the sofa, were startled. William slowly stood up from the sofa. Twenty years of time, as if it passed in the blink of an eye. Twenty years ago, those who grew up together, studied together, and mischievously fought together, are vividly remembered. "William, is it really you?" Robert's voice choked up.