Your Narrator Novels & Stories

Clover’s POV I wake to the smell of antiseptic. Shit, I am in the hospital. My eyes open slowly, but I keep them empty, unfocused, trained on nothing. I have to keep the narrative alive. They cannot know I can see, well not yet. “Excuse me?” I whisper hoarsely. “Who’s there? Why am I here?” Someone clears their throat. I turn my head toward the sound, I see him clearly. Not Zade.

3rd person P. O. V (Nikki P. O. V) I wake up and look around my surroundings to see I am in a room where there is nothing but the white walls surrounding me. "Where am I?" I ask myself while sitting on the ground. "Good, you're awake," a familiar voice said to me. Wait that voice, I know that voice, I thought and turn around to see Trevor walking towards me with a big smile on his face. "Trevor," I shouted his name while getting up from the floor and running towards him to hug him. And, he hugs me back.

“I would have told you but I’m not in the mood to pour out that many words from my mouth. “So you know the story?” I asked her. “Yes. Your mother told me— I was to be the narrator of it but then, for some reason, your mother is still alive so she remains the narrator of the story.” Anne explained and I just stared. I didn’t know which scared me the most— the fact that Anne had spoken like my mother had been destined to die but didn’t, or the fact that there was a strangely important story that my mother hadn’t told me about.

“Whether I know of it or not does not change what has already happened. But if we are to be a team, if we are going to face this together – then I need to know that I can trust you, wholly, without reserve, from now on.” “You can,” he choked, the sound warped around his nerves, around his pain. His hand felt clammy in mine. He sucked in a great, gulping breath, and then his head rose, as if possessed by a sudden, impulsive courage. “I left home,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of a narrator, of a storyteller. “I left no note, because I was sure that I would return with Violet by my side.”

Chapter Three- *First Person's Perspective* ~Amanda~ "She looks..." "I'm glad we..." I heard voices, faint and distant. Muffled, like whispers. I rolled on my sides, my eyes still shut, the scorching pain radiating in my head, stirs a feeling of hopelessness in me I try to remember how I had gotten into this situation in the first place, but my head is blank. Nothing comes up.

I could feel his eyes on me, silently pleading for an explanation. With a deep breath, I opened the box. Gasps rippled through the room as its contents were revealed. “I am Nina McDonald,” I said, my voice steady and filled with conviction. “And I do not lose.”

Hard narrating: "I couldn't wait for you to wake up, looking into your eyes would make it feel like this is goodbye, and I don't want it to be one. I thought about what I should write to you, and I swear I went through every part of me trying to find the words that could describe everything you made me feel in just one day, it's cliché and crazy, but it's impossible for someone to fall in love in one day, in one touch. I thought that maybe you could be the right love that came at the wrong time, and if that's what it is, I hope to find out one day, I hope it comes back one day. But now, I don't want you to be the foundation of my crumbling world, I can't But my marriage is my responsibility,

Second Person POV You are nowhere. No light. No sound. No heartbeat. Just the echo of your name, distant and warped, like a whisper through water. ***Zara…*** You try to move, but there’s nothing to move *toward*. No body. No breath. Only the cold, gnawing void. ***You were brave.*** The voice isn’t a sound. It’s a vibration, a pulse that reverberates through the nothingness. You recoil—or would, if you had a body.

As the last word lingered in the air, a silence enveloped us, so profound I could hear my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. The figure remained silent, its gaze never leaving me. "Who are you?" I asked, breaking the silence. My voice seemed muffled, absorbed by the vast nothingness around us. The figure didn't respond immediately. "I am an echo of the past, a guide for the present, and a vision of the future," the figure finally replied, its voice serene and ancient, sending a shiver down my spine. "You may call me the Seer."

--- Nobody spoke. Noah clicked play. --- For several seconds, nothing happened. Just static. Soft background noise. Then movement. A chair shifting. A glass touching wood. The tiny sounds of someone preparing themselves to speak. And then— Jasper. --- Not CEO Jasper. Not keynote Jasper. Not boardroom Jasper. Not the carefully constructed version of him that existed in public memory. This voice sounded tired. Human. Alone. --- "Well." A small laugh followed. Dry. Amused. A little sad.