Whimsical Reads Novels & Stories

She read the poem on the topmost page: Blurry eyes, in a haze, Cry silently near the window, Go without speaking for days, Written words are all that remain. What did I do wrong? You call me a disgrace. Sleep with pretty women, perfect bodies Yet you dare show me that face? I sit by my lonesome, Never a hair out of place, Temptation walks by, You get in the way. Dismay, disarray, I seek comfort, The warmth of a stranger's arms,

Just the smell of old books, cedar, ink, and two souls refusing to bend. He sat first, legs spread, elbows braced, looking like temptation with a vendetta. I didn’t stand on ceremony. I dropped into his lap, sideways, one arm looping around his shoulders, legs draped over his knee. He blinked once. Slowly. “What is happening?” he asked, like he’d never seen affection weaponized. “We’re decompressing,” I said. “Don’t fight it. Breathe.” He laughed—soft, low, surprised. “You’re bossy when you’re worried.”

Everything outside looked washed-out and gray, like the whole world was covered in doom-colored fog. I needed to wash up and fix my makeup, so I ended up being a minute late. Everyone else had already picked their roles. All that was left was the secretary position in the general manager's office. [Oh, no. She's done for.] [This is actually insane. The GM is a chainsaw psycho with multiple personalities. One wrong move, and you'll get shredded. That pick-me girl is finished!] Verda walked up beside me and leaned in close. "The last person who opened that door got sawed in half immediately."

He took a deep breath, to calm his nerves and gave me a smile that was more sure this time around. I held his hand and dipped it into the bowl of water, and with a deep breath started the recital. “Blood to blood, earth to earth - by the power in me and with the moon and universe bearing me witness - I, Mica Silvers hereby hand over that bestowed unto me to Richard Mocco.” The moment I said the last word I felt something leave me with such a rush that it had me gasping. Suddenly, I felt…empty - and cold. This is it.

The world wants to know the story of the woman who broke the internet and then married it. I type: AI Whispers: A Hybrid's Journey. It’s meta. It’s perfect. "Are you writing?" Alex asks from the doorway. He’s holding two mugs of tea. He looks tired, but his eyes are bright with that specific, focused energy he gets before a launch. "I'm remembering," I say. I tap the neural interface temple. "Memory Access: Granted," Echo says. "Do you wish to initiate immersive playback?" "Yes," I say. "Chapter One."

he whispers and then kisses me. . c.m. louden