Short Stories: Part I
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About this ebook
I love writing and developing, but sometimes, I really don't — or I don't see the development for this idea of a story. But it doesn't stop me from having this craving of writing it, creating new characters and tell their stories, to you out there. It doesn't stop me from wanting to meet them. So with each idea that I had, whether it was during cooking, or even sleeping sometimes, I decided to honor them and give birth to them. Writing their story was amazing, it was fun — and I am not going to lie to you and say it's all sweet and happy endings. You have to know something with me: I don't do happy endings. There are some, of course, but such a few of them. I tried to give representation, I tried to put a message into those stories. Then there are texts, words that I needed to write, non-fictional thoughts — but still had this craving for them to be written. Words of encouragement for me, for the person reading them. So after bearing my soul to you with Poems: Part I, let me bear your the soul of my imagination through Short Stories: Part I.
Chrystele Myriam
Writer of three published books, believe in equality and human rights.
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Short Stories - Chrystele Myriam

56AFF007-60B9-4FD1-9CA8-EC4F96C9FB71-1.jpgA few words first…
I cannot believe this is the second « a few words first… » I’m writing! The journey to come this far has been as full of rewards and ups and downs. In this journey I’ve learned things about myself, discovered my qualities but also my flaws. I figured some things out but still have to figure out others. Anyway, I’m so happy to present you « Short Stories: Part I » and the second book of the series!
I am so thankful for the support « Poems: Part I » has received! Never in a million years I would have thought that this book would have this kind of success!
So I’m thanking every one and each of you who bought the book, my family and of course my friends.
L, A, O, this will always be for you and your unconditional support…
May you enjoy this stories from my soul…
Poems and Short Stories — Series
Poems — Part I
Short Stories — Part I
Visit my website for more:
CHRYSTELEMYRIAMUNI.COM
FAIR USE NOTICE:
In this book, there are some stories inspired of songs. You will find the list of the song with the artist(s) at the bottom of the page.
We do not own any of the lyrics in any way.
BONUSES IN THIS BOOK
In this book you will find bits of the upcoming volume 1 of the book series « Olivia Parker »! Hoping to give you something you like and will make you eager to read it.
CRAVED IN YOUR HANDS.
I knew who I was before you, I learn myself with you, I discovered my reasons, I learned how to give myself some credits. I never thought that going on this mission would lead to one of the best things in my entire life. Lesly, I know I'm not the best, I know that I tend to push you away, and I know that this letter is me proving this point.
You have to forgive me, but I cannot stay next to you, beside you in bed, wake up with you in my arms, wondering if this would be the last time or not. Endangering you is one of my greatest fear, a regret I won't be able to live with, a regret I can't die with. I can drown, suffer, die even, knowing that you are safe and sound.
One said, 'one man's heaven is another man's hell,' if my hell has to be your heaven, then I'll do it all again. I want you to know; I want you to be sure, never to doubt, that just because I'm letting you go, it doesn't mean I ever wanted you to. I want to wake up with you in my arms, our legs tangled every morning, but I know this won't be happening in this life.
I hope that I brought you more smiles than caused your tears. I wanted to tell you face to face, but I'm a coward, I wouldn't be able to stand in front of you, look into your saddened eyes filled with sorrow, tears, hatred, regrets, and hurt, look away. One day, I hope you will look back at what we had and see how much it meant, and still means every universe that exists to me, that you won't regret anymore, that you will smile at our memories.
My heart was so broken before, broken pieces that were shattered in a point of no return, beyond repair. Until you came in and pieced it all back together, slowly, gently, amazingly. Knowing that I'm the one who's shattering yours, destroys your masterpiece that is my heart, craved in your hands, tattooed by your love.
Please forgive me for this letter, and for everything.
Forever yours, through heaven and hell, as long as I live, as long as my soul exists, my one and only you will be.
RED.
She always loved the color red. It was beautiful, different shades of red reminded her of a rose until one day. One day a mission went terribly wrong. A demon found a way to possess her, control her body. She could understand everything that was happening, she tried to fight it, to fight the demon inside of her, but nothing worked.
After seeing Matthew on his knees, his face bloody from all of the punches the demon did, him pleading her, please, this isn't you...
And it was not her, but there was no way for her to stop.
She hated the color red. It was dark, hurtful, bruised. No matter the shades of red, it reminded her of Matthew's blood on her hands.
HOW I ROLL.
After Keith gave his life, sacrificed himself to save his family, Rylie found herself crying in the arms of the man that was not their father but raised them all. Her other brother, David, was pushing her away; in fact, he was pushing everyone else away. Why are you staying if it is for you to cry, Rylie? You deserve to be happy, and if it means leaving David—
, Because the only thing I think we have left, David and I, is each other. If David says it is time to go out in a blaze of glory, win or lose, so be it. I am in. Nonetheless, then—
David enters the room, arms crossed, she smiles and adds, it is just how I roll.
David grinned at her and went to the kitchen, took three beers, came back, and gave one to each of them.
HE DIDN’T KNOW.
He didn't know the chance he had until she left. He did not know that she was the right one, the only one capable of seeing through him. But when all of the little things she used to do went away with her, he felt empty, felt the void her love left, as if life was taking his heart out of his chest, without any precaution, without any warning. There won't be any quiet conversations, lazy Sundays, comforting embraces, full-hearted laughs that would make him hold his sides so much that it hurt. She won't wrap her arms around him for no reason, seeing that he needed a human touch, gentle and full of love. He won't see her eyes light up when she listens to him talking about the things he loves, even if she doesn't enjoy them herself. Yeah, he realized that besides his brother, no one would ride in the car just to see some landscapes. He understood everything, but too late, when she was gone. And then, he hit a point of no return, when the realization hit him that she would be doing all of those little things that made him whole, complete even, to another man that deserved her and her love way more than him. And now, he was beyond repair.
HASN’T BEGUN.
She looked at her partners, one of them nodded, go see her. We will clean this up.
She made a simple gesture of her head and walked to the bedroom of her soul-sister. She slowly opened the door. The room was dark, she searched for her, but she was not on the bed. She decided to let the door open to let the light from the hall into the room. She then found her sister in the corner of the room, knees against her chest. She walked to her, it's okay.
She says, wrapping her arms around her as she shook with terror. It's over now.
She says, trying to reassure her. No, it's not.
Whispers her sister back. It hasn't even begun.
She does not say anything, does not move, but she was scared. Scared of what was to come, of her soul-sister's power, and scared of losing her.
THE PAINTER.
Alvina was a very talented painter, a lot of people told her so, and even her, knew that she had something special. She could only acknowledge her talent when she looked at the final piece she made. Sometimes Alvina could barely believe that she was the one that drew it. She would completely lose herself in her painting, focusing only on how she felt, how the brush could go, and which colors would match. She always loved to paint when she was younger, but as she grew older, Alvina realized, not only she loved to paint, she needed to. If she didn't portray what she had in mind right away, she would have significant bleeding from her eyes, hands shaking, and head spinning. So one day, she decided to fully follow her mind and let it draw for her. She was at the top of a cliff when she felt a sudden rush of inspiration, and she fell. Bracing herself for death, she was shocked when she realized that she wasn't falling but floating. The waves that she painted so many times were not only carrying her, but talking to her, she could understand them. Oh no, you are not dying. We cannot destroy something that has loved us so beautifully.
She was taken aback. When the waves put her back on the cliff, she looked at them and smiled, she then decided to try and draw something else, and that's when she realized, whatever she drew, she could understand it, feel it, hear it, and control it.
THE SPIRIT.
Oh, it was there, it was invisible to some people, a lot of people actually. But it definitely was there. It was present in every breeze, in every drop of rain, in every birth and death, in every floating leaf. Its spirit was as bright as the sun, as strong as a burning fire. It could destroy like a storm, but also heal like a caring mother. It was warm, safe, and sound. It was kind and reassuring. Only good and pure soul could see, witness the mesmerizing spirit of the forest. But when you saw it, you could only feel found, calm, and welcome around. It did not speak, but you could understand it loud and clear. It had thousands of thousands of lessons to teach, a large amount of wisdom to pass on to whoever comes lost. So do not be afraid, when you see it, you will feel it, you will feel everything. You will finally witness what this would genuinely have to offer, and how kind it can be to the right person. You just have to open your eyes, look around, allow innocence to find you again, allow your heart to open again, look at the world the way you used to when you were five, and you will see how truly magical this world can be.
THE DAMNED.
From the beginning, they teach you how to make one with your sword, how the only thing other than you, you can trust — is your sword. They show you how to fight with it like you breathe with your lungs. Your sword is your best friend, your soulmate, your everything; it has to be a part of your body. But they never teach you what happens when no matter what, in the end, even your best friend can betray you. They don't guide you to block the mundane feelings. And this is what killed The Damned and made her it. She trusted another soul, someone that did not hesitate to take her sword and stab her with it. She stayed there, on her knees, her sword in her chest. She watched her blood on the blade, slowly falling on the ground. Who would have thought, the things you spent your whole life with, you felt the most alive with, would be the end of you? It would be the reason for your last breath or your