What We Lose Novel Novels & Stories

Morris. "I... We had an accident just right after your dad and I left you in that house... Through that accident, I lost the ability to get pregnant and your father died on the spot... You could say it's retribution." "So my good father is dead... I'm sorry but I don't feel anything..." "Aubrey, please... You're my only child, please let me spend the remaining time of my life by your side as your mother..." "What are you talking about?" Aubrey said clenching her fist. She knows what her mother means but she refused to believe it.

Luna’s thoughts are wandering as it rings, and started like this. She wanted to know as she’s dying to have the answer to her question of what, where, how, why, and when she felt something special towards the novel that she wrote. Yet, the words that were left untouched for so long only remind her of the lost key that somehow her destiny made her forget. And from that forgotten past, lies her life that rings the words.

“Why?” A wry line carves itself on her face. “Children tend to vanish when they venture too far from home. I would hate for any of you to end up like the lost heirs,” she says, and I think she meant it as a joke because her dreary eyes shine with dark humour, but I also think it was a sincere warning. “The lost… heirs?” I repeat questioningly, hopefully a worthy prompt for an elucidation. A ghoulish glint sparks in Hilda’s dull eyes. “The lost heirs; twins that braved into the woods. Rumours speculate that it was to visit their favourite spot by the lake which they visited religiously, but one day… they never returned.”

Ruby The loss of the precious book struck a devastating blow on me, as it held the key to the healing knowledge I desperately needed, and now it was gone, leaving me feeling confused and lost. The thought of failing the challenge given to me by Madam Nelly pressed down on me, and this wasn't even about failing the already impossible task—the book was an invaluable guide owned by my grandmother for almost a thousand years. It was also passed down to her by her own grandmother, but now it is gone.

The fantasy is so vivid, so achingly beautiful, that losing it feels like grief all over again. Because I know now, after today, that some part of me will always wonder what we could have been if Jaxon Wolfgang hadn't thrown us away.

"The place where every unfinished story is abandoned." The room became still. The woman frowned. "A place can't move." "No," the First Reader replied quietly. "It isn't a place anymore." "It became... hungry." The bright point continued drifting across the map. Each line it consumed vanished forever. Adrian watched several glowing paths disappear. "What happens to those stories?" The White Book answered before anyone else could. Fresh words appeared across its pages. They are forgotten before they are ever imagined. A chill ran through the room. The boy slowly closed the nameless notebook.

Asked questions. Demanded answers. Kyle simply accepted her silence. As though her comfort mattered more than his curiosity. And somehow… That hurt even more. Because kindness was harder to defend against. The music shifted. Another slow melody. Neither moved away. Neither seemed eager for the dance to end. “Have you ever loved someone so much,” Irina whispered suddenly, “that losing them felt like losing part of yourself?” The question escaped before she could stop it. Immediately she regretted it. Kyle’s eyes never left hers.

I opened my leather notebook, my pen hovering over the blank white page for a long, painful minute. I didn't write about Vance's threats or Tamara's dangerous invitation. I didn't write about the Apex project or the board's looming vote. Instead, my hand moved slowly, tracing a single, jagged line across the paper. I am grieving something that was never mine, I wrote, the ink bleeding into the fiber. I don't even know what I am losing. **To be Continued**

It did not acknowledge our arrival. Adrian handed me one of the books. A novel, translated from French, about a woman who inherits a farmhouse in Provence and systematically dismantles her previous life. "It made me think of you," he said. I turned it over. Read the back. "Is she happy? At the end?" "I don't know. I haven't finished it." "That's not very encouraging." He smiled. "I thought you'd appreciate the honesty."

She would ignite a war no one could control. But when she looked across the river at Alexander, she saw a future. A fragile, terrifying hope she couldn’t let go. --- As she walked toward the bank, time slowed down. The icy, relentless water splashed against her boots, testing her strength. Lucien’s hand darted forward, seizing her arm. She sensed the anguish underneath it though his grip was harsh. "Please fight this," he murmured, the anger laced with a deeper emotion. “I lost your mother to their lies. Must I lose you too?”