Story cover for Nightfall by ChristineDiano
Nightfall
  • WpView
    Leituras 345
  • WpVote
    Votos 12
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 20
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 52m
  • WpView
    Leituras 345
  • WpVote
    Votos 12
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 20
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 52m
Em andamento, Primeira publicação em set 17, 2014
I didn't notice I had already reached the fourth
floor of the building. I always get my ribcage almost broken from inhaling exhaling fast due to climbing long stairs, but the chaos in my thoughts as I took steps made me barely feel anything that is around.

10 minutes late and I jet my way to the corridor nudging everyone on my track and I finally become like Marlon, Nemo's dad, plopped out from struggling to swim escape the flood of jellyfishes. 

I was composing myself and fixing my gaze straight when the earth turned to slooooowwmooooo-tion.

And a smile is running towards me.

The wind cooperates, feeding my hair to my mouth.
Mother of all one eyed meatballs, he's coming to me!

"Number three answer book..?"

I blink stupidly.

"Did you finish answering number three on your book?" He asks for the second time, face quite amused of my trance.

"Uh," I hold my index finger up in the air. "Oh! Right, the poem!" My hands immediately stumble through their way in my bag that's hanging on my shoulder.

"Let me hold your ba--"

"No need to," I retreat a step, "I'm fine."

I hand him the book and walk past him and he follows instantly.

Every head turned to us as we entered the door, exchanging looks with each other as if talking telepathically.

It's been a year but it feels like it happened only yesterday. The feeling of his hand entwined with mine, now so much of being galaxies apart.

He's already on the train while I'm still along the edge of the road, left behind with all the recollections he didn't mind leaving me every inch of them.

A year ago, Oliver and I were so much in love with each other.
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beneath her shadow, de Litty1976
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I didn't know I was disappearing until it was almost too late. At first, it was subtle. A missed call here. A joke at my expense there. A delay in responding, followed by a grand explanation that made me feel silly for even asking. You start to wonder if you're imagining things-if your skin has grown too thin, or if the world has always been this cold and you just never noticed. But no, this is different. This is targeted. This is personal. He came to me like a storm pretending to be sunlight. Charming, magnetic, wounded-how I mistook those wounds as something that needed my healing. I didn't know then that narcissistic abuse doesn't always arrive screaming. Sometimes, it tiptoes in wearing the face of love. He said all the right things at the right time, until I stopped trusting my own sense of wrong. The highs were dizzying: he told me I was everything. Special. Unlike anyone he had ever met. He made me feel chosen. And so, I stayed-even when the lows scraped at my bones, even when the words grew sharp and the silence louder than his rage. I didn't see the cage being built because I was too busy decorating it, thinking I was safe inside. The thing about narcissistic pain is that it often masquerades as longing. You ache not just for the person-but for the version of yourself you were when they first looked at you like you mattered. You miss the illusion. You miss the fantasy. And worst of all, you blame yourself when it shatters.
I Am Sarah Owens, de DeeThompson4
24 capítulos Concluída
"Who are you?" He asked eyes as wide and bright as the moon. His expression didn't even fit his pretty face anymore, it was just plastered there laughing at me crushing me down. This is not me! I don't get emotional and break down. I was raised to be strong and fight these horrible beasts that murdered my family. I took a look at him. He was all tied up and bruised. His dress shirt was wet and torn with blood all over it. I hated how he looked, it broke me down. "Answer me!" He yelled nearly in my face. I closed my eyes shut and felt a tear leave my eye. How can i just betray him like this? And make a fool out of myself. "I.. I.." I started but i couldn't Finnish my words. I felt like i'd die if i do. I met Josh Teris when i was attacked by a pack of werewolves. He was on the side of the creak when i saw him i could tell he was a werewolf, he had a dark and dangerous look to him. He was the most beautiful man I've ever seen, he was clueless so i lied to him my name and made up a whole different person that i wasn't. Maybe i did it because i wanted to get away from the life i had. Be normal for just one second. My life was based on rules and whenever i was with him he made me feel alive. I knew danger was lurking in his way. When it came it revealed all of me. Secrets came out and things started to reveal that i never thought was true myths that i read about in old books at least i thought they were myths. Now he knows and now i don't know if he would look at me the same. Every Vengeance, Has it's Price.
Familiarity, de whitmar2020
15 capítulos Concluída Maduro
I walked on the nearly empty bus in New York City, which was very rare. It was the middle of the night and this was the last train going around the tracks. It was only me in the car for a few stops. I was hiding my face with a hoodie. I had my headphones in when he walked in. I looked up and our eyes met. He looked familiar and I quickly looked away. He's probably a fan and followed me. I probably met him at a meet and greet, at least that's what I thought. I felt a presence next to me and looked up to see the green/blue eyes that were so familiar. I took one of my earbuds out. "Hi?" I asked. "Hey. If you don't mind me asking, but where are you from?" He asked. "Let me know your name first." I said still cautious. I paused my music and wrapped the earbuds around my phone and put it in my pocket. "Denzel Weller." He said holding out his hand. "Rose Pitcher." I told him taking his hand. He looked so familiar. His name tried to break through a wall in my memories. I looked around us to see that there was one person left on the train besides us. I took my hood off revealing my turquoise hair. I just got it done and that's what I'm going to my hotel from. "So, where are you from?" He asked me. "We say where we're from at the same time." I told him. He nodded. "1.....2.......3!" I said. "LA." We said at the same time. I looked at him surprised. I took a closer look at him. He looked like he was around the same age as me, 21-22. I studied his features. He had smaller than average ears, an average sized nose, a strong jaw line, short medium brown hair, and then his eyes. I stared into his eyes and saw that they held familiarity.
when you need me most, de say_hello_7
13 capítulos Em andamento Maduro
When you need me most, that's when I walk away. I've spent years with him-giving, pretending, sacrificing-but I've never really felt the way I thought I would. And still, I've never fully walked away. Each day feels heavier than the last, a quiet ache gnawing at me, reminding me that the person I'm losing isn't him... it's myself. People see us together and think it's enough. They see the smiles, the routines, the quiet mornings, the coffee he always makes, and they assume our love is perfect. They do not know the nights I lie awake, questioning if staying is worth the cost, or if leaving will destroy everything I've built inside myself. They do not know the small, invisible ways I've been disappearing-slowly, quietly, while he keeps holding on, unaware of how fragile I feel. It isn't that I don't care for him. He's kind, patient, and loving in ways that make me ache. But sometimes love isn't enough when it takes more than you can give-and when the person you're with doesn't meet you where you need them most. Between guilt, obligation, and the pull of familiarity, I've lost sight of myself, and I can't tell if I'm holding on to him... or just holding myself back. And now, when life throws new challenges his way, I have to face a question I've avoided for far too long: do I continue to sacrifice myself for a love that demands everything and gives only uncertainty? Or do I finally choose me-even if it means letting go?
Her Last Hope, de L-dreamer
23 capítulos Concluída
Her POV: He was heartless, ruthless, cruel, calculating... there was not even one ounce of humanity in him-no trace of empathy or mercy, no place for love or kindness in his heart. He ruined me, humiliated me, crushed me... But he was powerful, strong, terrifying... no one dared to cross him or stand in his way. And so, I was left alone to bear the consequences of things I hadn't done. I promised I would avenge my dignity and my hard work, one way or another... But fate had other plans. He claimed that he loved me, but his actions revealed his true colors. And I- I never thought I was capable of hating someone so deeply, but I hated him with everything I had left in me. His POV: I was the king of the world-the most powerful man you'd ever meet. Cold and merciless, no one dared stand against me. Everyone sought my approval. They feared my wrath and worshipped my name. Everyone... except her. She was the woman who made my heart beat for the first time. The woman who looked past my power and saw the man beneath it. The only one who wanted nothing from me, while I wanted everything from her. But I couldn't blame her for despising me. Not after everything I had done. For the first time in my life, I was wrong. And I only realized it when it was too late. Still, I vowed-if she ever came back into my life, I would never let her go again. I never imagined I could love someone that much... but I loved her with everything I had.
𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+], de khamosiyaan
57 capítulos Em andamento Maduro
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Slide 1 of 9
beneath her shadow cover
I Am Sarah Owens cover
Familiarity cover
Broken By Mafia cover
when you need me most cover
Thirst cover
Her Last Hope cover
𝐔�𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] cover
The Truth Untold cover

beneath her shadow

1 capítulo Concluída Maduro

I didn't know I was disappearing until it was almost too late. At first, it was subtle. A missed call here. A joke at my expense there. A delay in responding, followed by a grand explanation that made me feel silly for even asking. You start to wonder if you're imagining things-if your skin has grown too thin, or if the world has always been this cold and you just never noticed. But no, this is different. This is targeted. This is personal. He came to me like a storm pretending to be sunlight. Charming, magnetic, wounded-how I mistook those wounds as something that needed my healing. I didn't know then that narcissistic abuse doesn't always arrive screaming. Sometimes, it tiptoes in wearing the face of love. He said all the right things at the right time, until I stopped trusting my own sense of wrong. The highs were dizzying: he told me I was everything. Special. Unlike anyone he had ever met. He made me feel chosen. And so, I stayed-even when the lows scraped at my bones, even when the words grew sharp and the silence louder than his rage. I didn't see the cage being built because I was too busy decorating it, thinking I was safe inside. The thing about narcissistic pain is that it often masquerades as longing. You ache not just for the person-but for the version of yourself you were when they first looked at you like you mattered. You miss the illusion. You miss the fantasy. And worst of all, you blame yourself when it shatters.