Thelostlove Stories

"The Lost Love" is a tragic love story between Mashiho and Akira who met by chance in Tokyo. They fell in love, However, Mashiho has a secret that threatens their relationship.

The lost love, Is all based on my father ,who passed away last year! He was murdered for being kind, I feel bad and sad that he is gone. But it's all about how I try to search him Among the cluster of stars And how I wish to see him.

Kate, Scott e Chris são amigos de infância até que acontece algo inesperado. Mais tarde eles se encontram com mais três amigos, e então uma nova estória está pra começar...

All of us have the one that got away in life. The great things after that is when you found it again. And promise not to let go of it. This story will make you realized how important trust , respect and honesty in maintaining the love between you.

A Sidneet onse shot which i wrote for sidneetdaywritingfestival on Instagram. Read and enjoy.

Prologue: She's gone.... They're gone.... And.... It's all my fault... They're my life.... So how am I suppose to live without them? I rather want to be dead than to live without them by my side... ================================== Hi wattpad readers! (and writers) So this is my first time writing a story. I'm not really good at english but I'll try my best... bobo ako eh jewk hahaha Vote, Comment, Support and maybe Spread this story to everyone. If you want to. WARNING na rin pala... merong mga wrong grammar at mura AT mabagal po akong mag update huehue. But I hope di kayo sumuko sakin like everyone else HAHA. Aywuvyu ebwiwan! Thank you! The Lost Love by creepykind

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed. She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to. She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three. Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap. Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her. You say: I dated her a while back. You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume. You say: She was younger than me. You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered. You say: It’s nothing now. You don’t say: But it was everything then.