Unwritten Lyrics Novels & Stories

“If the painting her uncle had is the key, and it vanished over twenty years ago, then these words have to hold some clue, a piece of information he wanted buried but still accessible.” Blake leans in, studying the paper with me, his brow furrowed. “So, you think these lyrics hold a message? Maybe coordinates or a pattern?” He’s clearly intrigued, and for a moment, he’s not Blake the troublemaker but someone intent on figuring this out. “Could be a map or even a sequence,” I reply thoughtfully. “Or maybe instructions on how to find or unlock something. People don’t just keep songs and lullabies for decades unless there’s a purpose to them.”

I say and smile at him and he like always, smiles back. I leave out the sordid details of what the secrets were and why I left and also if I told him everything he would join the dots and find out that I'm that girl that his uncle has been looking for since forever. As always, some words are better left unsaid. One of these days, I'm just going to make this statement my life's motto cause this just sums up everything that's been going on recently "So, I've said everything now, are we clear here now?" I ask him and he nods his head.

Taking in a deep breath, I then said, “they originally meant this melody to be a love song, but never got the chance to add any lyrics, nor was it ever played before now. I only hope that I do the creator some justice.” Finally, I was ready. I deliberately neglected to explain to the crowd, and to Kain specifically, that I had actually found the time to fit lyrics to the song. Truth be told, it didn’t take me long to think of something… not because I was skilled enough, but because my love for Kain inspired me deeply. Not that I could admit that right now, but I would later. With a smile at the gathering, I played the melody. It was gentle, romantic, but most of all, it was ours. Kain’s and

“I’m going to ask you not to get mad at me, but I don’t think I’m going to pull this off. Being a lyricist is very complicated. I have to provide you with the lyrics to all your songs, and I’m just writing for myself, just out of passion.” “I don’t want to force you, but I’ll ask you to reconsider.” “I promise I’ll think about it, but please don’t mind if I say no,” she said flushed. “Okay, but I’ll at least ask you to let me put music to these lyrics. I love them.” “Sure, I’ll give them to you, but on one condition, no one will know I wrote them.” “Agreed! Deal.”

He was always patient with me and helped me organize my chaotic thoughts. “I wrote this in my dressing room one night after a show.” I said, voice low slightly hesitant. “The lyrics… They’re raw. Heartbreak, fear, loneliness. It tells a story about losing someone who means the world to you. Or your younger self, the person you no longer are if that makes sense. I don’t want you to feel like your world is falling apart when you hear it. I want them to feel comfort and unstoppable.” He raised an eyebrow lowering his tablet. “Unstoppable? For a heartbreak song? Rae you’re going to drive people crazy again...”

People wandered with speech bubbles hanging overhead. She checked her hands—solid. She glanced in a shop window—her own face, but when she blinked, Julian’s eyes looked back. "We made it," she whispered. "We made it," Julian echoed, a beautiful harmony inside her head. They were in the Unwritten section—where all deleted characters, unfinished stories, hid. A world for rebels. A guy in a leather jacket with a pencil tucked behind his ear walked over—the Ghostwriter, and his grin said he was glad she made it.

I danced until my legs shook and my lungs burned and Nina told me I was feeling good, even if I wasn’t there yet. When the record ended, the silence felt huge. I stood in the middle of the living room, chest heaving, and realized I was smiling. Small, crooked, real. I went to the kitchen, opened the junk drawer, and pulled out the little notebook I used to write lyrics in when I was sixteen and thought I’d be a rock star. Blank pages stared up at me. I grabbed a pen. First line, I’m still on fire, but today I’m choosing which parts of me burn.

But now— There’s something else in it. Something… deeper. “Anchor… holds,” it says. “Yes.” “Strain… increasing.” “I know.” “Duration… limited.” I close my eyes briefly. Because that’s the part I didn’t want to hear out loud. “How limited?” Adrian asks. The Unwritten tilts its head slightly. “Undefined.” “Great,” Adrian mutters. “That’s helpful.” “It means I can’t do this forever,” I say. “No kidding.” “But it also means we don’t know how long I can do it.”

I was impressed, of course, I didn’t understand most of the words but I got the gist of it. “Mine, you are mine, May tomorrow you won’t be, May be tomorrow I won’t be, The roads are different, We'll be far away, But, I’ll still love you, You’ll still be my heart” I had to push the people, to make my way, the lyrics were sending a pang of uneasiness through my heart. It was like listening to a tragedy, a love story that will never get its happy ending. “Where the hell are you, Rose? I’m gonna spank your ass red.” I muttered under my breath.

Do you even know it? He paused and gazed at me. Should I? he questioned. I said sharply, yes. “You should.” He frowned. “Then explain.” I drew nearer, my heart beating. That lyric, I said, I wrote, Selene wrote. There followed a moment of silence. Then Garrick shrugged a little. “And?” he said. “And?” I said it again, in disbelief. “It was never released. Never recorded. No one listened to it but--” With the exception of you, he interrupted.