Waiting Novels & Stories

The back-and-forth had become, over three months, something she was aware of wanting to continue when it wasn’t happening. FROM: piers.devaux@devaux-writes.fr TO: isadora.crane@literarybridge.co.uk SUBJECT: Chapter Seven The scene where Thomas waits for the letter. You have translated attendre as “wait.” This is correct and wrong. Attendre contains within it the waiting and the hoping. The English “wait” is neutral. You wait for a bus. Thomas is not waiting for a bus. He is in a state of suspended anticipation that has made him unable to do anything else.

The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air, tension crackling between them as they wait for Warren's response. As the seconds tick by, I can almost see the gears turning in Warren's mind, his thoughts shrouded in mystery. The anticipation is palpable, a sense of unease settling over me as I brace myself for the inevitable confrontation that lies ahead. Warren's next words will determine the course of our future, and I can only hope that Saraya's bold decision will be met with understanding and support.

There were four people waiting out front of the double-door entrance that had to be over ten feet tall. She pulled up and parked the car. Getting out first, Mrs. St James rounded the car and shook hands with two of the people who were waiting. Another one came over and opened the door for me. Stepping out, I fought the urge to crane my head back to look up. The door shutting behind me made me jump and I realized just how bad my nerves were. “Regis, this is Winter Cyprus. She is the one who is requesting to speak with the Council today.”

All 42 of them sat on the curb opposite Starvard University under the hot sun, staring intently at their phone screens, waiting for the bank transfer text message that would change their lives. Two hours passed. And yet, they still hadn't received any notification from the bank—not even a scam message of any sort. "Kevin? Why hasn't the money come in yet? I'm running out of battery," Aaron asked, wiping off the sweat on his forehead. His voice was beginning to shake again. Kevin was sweating profusely as well. His fingers shook as he tapped into CloudAI and typed, "It's been two hours. Why haven't we received the five million dollars yet?"

yet not wanting to postpone i chose to ping the msg and wait for her reply. * i'm sorry for being late for this * * i haven't moved on yet* i hit the send button and saw the one tick means the message was successfully delivered. a moment passed and the screen was still the same. * i haven't moved yet from my past relationship* added further hoping that she won't get perplexed about what i was saying. my eye balls came out when i saw the blank ticks turning into double blue ticks. She is online and reads my messages. Wait, didn't she sleep yet ? my heartbeats increased when i saw 'typing' instead of online. *typing*

I loved how New Years was a time of slutty outfits, sparkles, and bright colors. Mason: Dork. I hope you enjoy turning my hair grey. Skyler: You'd still be handsome. I turned my attention to the cashier, pulling out the card Jax had given me incase I ever had to buy anything. I was just waiting for the cashier to put it in a bag when my phone buzzed again, twice in a row. Mason: well obviously. Mason: can we go home now? Skyler: not quite. We need to get our nails done.

She walked away, and I leaned back in my seat, looking around the room, scanning the faces and the bodies moving on the dance floor. There was still no sign of Adrian or Zara, but I knew they would show up. It was only a matter of time. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to check. Friend: Running late. Give me thirty minutes. I placed my phone back down without replying to the text and took a slow sip from the glass when the waitress brought it back, the whisky burning smoothly down my throat. Thirty minutes. Good. There was enough time to watch the door and wait for them to arrive, and enough time to decide how I wanted to handle what was coming.

Isaac Winters watched impatiently as people slowly signed up for the search party that would soon be headed out. He stood there by the sign-up sheet, foot tapping with his haste and fingers drumming to the beat of his impatience in the nooks of his elbows. A glower on his olive skin, hazel eyes dark with impatience and anger. How long does it take to sign a damn piece of paper and start looking?

My fingers hovered for a second over the send button, hesitation flickering briefly, just long enough for doubt to try and creep in. Then I pushed it away and hit the send button. The message went through instantly. I stared at the screen, waiting. One second. Two. Five. Nothing. No typing indicator. No reply. I frowned slightly, my eyes narrowing as I continued to watch the screen, willing it to change. “Come on…” I whispered under my breath, the quiet urgency in my voice filling the small space around me. But still…nothing. The silence stretched heavy and uncomfortable. My chest tightened slightly, the unease from earlier returning, creeping back in and sett

I need today's meeting to count. I set the phone face up on the bed and waited. The room was quiet. Ten seconds passed then twenty and then the three dots appeared. He was typing.