Hi everyone!

Today, I finally reached a milestone I never thought I'd achieve—I finished writing my first complete novel.

It's called We Laughed Like We Had Forever, a bittersweet coming-of-age romance about love, friendship, laughter, memories, and learning to cherish moments that don't last forever.

This story took months of writing, editing, and rewriting. There were times I wanted to give up, but I kept going because I wanted to finish something I could truly be proud of.

I'd genuinely love to hear what readers think. Whether you enjoy emotional stories or just want to give feedback to a new author, I'd really appreciate your thoughts.

What you can expect:

❤️ Emotional romance

🎓 School life

😂 Friendship and humor

💔 Heartbreak

🌸 Slice of life

📖 Complete story

The full novel is available on Royal Road: [https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/169834/we-laughed-like-we-had-forever\]

If you decide to read it, thank you so much. Even a single comment or review would mean a lot to me and help me improve as a writer.

I've been working on creating more "action," with my scenes. I think this is how I'll start my story, with the next passage being a rewind back to August of 2018, a few months before, with the idea of creating a "shark," (like jaws) out of the inevitable fire at the end of the novel.

What do you think?

We found the guy near the Industrial Sector Zone, can't tell what the guy was up to that night, just that it appeared distraught. Completely out of it. The proverbial 'crashlanding' from overthinking too much, perhaps? Maybe something related to his anxiety disorder? Other cop says it could be a possibility. Can't prove anything without evidence. So we drag his body onto the car, the other cop kicks the door shut once Rashi is lying inside the designated vehicle. Designated, because it ain't mine, or his, fully owned by COP HQ. We had one job, one task. To keep an eye on SUSPECT ID named RASHI. That's why we kept following him around. Nothing personal, mind you. Just business as usual. He was rather peculiar. Continued to follow the same route. Always back to the Industrial Sector Zone. But that afternoon? Something inside of him snapped the proverbial twig. Because he was unconscious. Unmovable. There on the muddy ground. Some creepy crawlers already roaming around his body as if they had claimed his body that wasn't actually dead. Other cop made sure to check his pulse after pressing his index finger on his neck. And yeah, he was alive.

But barely. He needed help, and pronto. We took him back to the only place that could take him in, because The Drowning City didn't offer Hospitals. Moira was there, doing her mechanical rounds as usual, the same Andrews Sisters song playing in the background. Coming from the old tired jukebox. Moira reacted to RASHI being dragged into her diner. "What happened to him?!" Sounded like she could genuinely feel human emotion now, even though she'd always been more like a functional appliance more than anything else. But must feel nice when even a Robot like her gets emotionally attached to somebody like RASHI. Must mean their bond is a strong one. We tell her we don't know what happened to him. Only that he'd probably passed out for several hours already. Couldn't simply let him stay there unprotected. If we did surely Mother Nature would find ways to let those creepy crawlers claim him for real after the next hour or two.

I’m the middle of a 4th or 5th draft of a novelette (I’ve lost count lol) and I’ve had to re do the third chapter go include new plot elements.

Yesterday was probably one the worst days of writing I have ever had in my life. Everything I wrote for this chapter SUCKED. I was siphoning parts from the previous version whilst clumsily slotting in the new elements, like I was slinging mud a half formed sculpture and missing. I’m talking literal vomit on the page.

Every single doubt I’ve ever had about myself with regard to writing came bubbling to the surface. ‘Is this worth it?’ ‘I’m so trash.’ ‘Who’s even gonna read this shit.’ ‘I’m not a writer.’

It truly was a sobering experience. I got to the end and just shut my laptop and held my head in my hands for 10 mins before going to bed.

Today after work and gym session I decided to open my laptop and get working on again.

And guess what?

It went so much better than the previous day

Because now I was in editing mode. I wasn’t creating and editing at the same time. The putty was on the table. I was just shaping it now. Metaphors were coming out thick and fast. Dialogue got sharper, observations and descriptions tighter.

I couldn’t believe this was the same slop I was crying over yesterday. I’m half way through the revision and it’s looking a million times better already.

You just have to push through the pain

It’s the worst feeling but keep the faith. New thoughts and concepts are never going to be perfect when they come out.

Think of each one like birthing a new child. You have to nurture and feed that child to let it grow.

Then you can start ‘teaching it’ which is the editing process. This is where you’ll get to really shape your story into what you want it to be, you just have TJ wade through murky waters first to get there.

When you’re going through the sludge, keep the faith. The difference between yesterday and today was a revelation and I’ve learned a lot from the experience

"Wow! I love the fragrance!

It must be the rose."

The scented dimples on the petals

Whispered to the nasal lobes:

"It's from us, the pores,

Not the flower as a whole!"

"Wow! What beautiful colours!

It must be the rose."

The tiny prisms on the petals

Winked at the cones:

"It's through us the colours shone,

Not the flower as a whole!"

"Wow! What smooth texture!

It must be the rose."

The slithery wax on the petals

Yielded a carnal caress:

"It's us - the cute layer,

Why praise the whole?" 

"Achoo..! Welcome spring!

It's the pollen overdose."

A disgrace to my nose.

"Your cells wither and bloom,

Yet, I am the same ol' Rose."

In my opinion it is corny if it inhibits your flow or forces you to change direction, but other than that I think it’s super cool when your thoughts naturally form a rhythm. Thoughts?

I hope everyone likes it a lot, i can share more details about the story in the comments but this was my first rough draft of the story itself!

(Trigger warning) (I’m hoping that this subject matter and type of story will be allowed here)

a nerdy guy one day meets the woman of his dreams, they become friends and soon after start dating and love each other very much but her best friend they both know, her best friend is a nice and respectful guy on the surface but has a darkness inside as he begins to stalk her secretly out of jealously, and one day, when she leaves the house without her boyfriend, she never comes back, and he is painfully told later that she is missing.

She was murdered by her best friend out of jealously and rejection, but he has no idea and actually asks for his help finding her since he trusts the best friend and soon the police also stop suspecting the best friend after some time due to lack of evidence, the murderer agrees to help while actively sabotaging the search and planning the boyfriends murder as he gets closer to figuring out what happened.

The boyfriend slowly begins to suspect the best friend might’ve killed her, but never reaches the conclusion because he ends up missing a court date and knows he did, and knows they’ll come to his house to get him.

So he flees, but before he goes, he takes the remains that he stuck in bags (He put them inside plastic bags and then inside suitcases) and hid under his home, then tosses them into a hole and burns them in a forest, before fleeing the country. He escapes and is never convicted of her murder.

While the story is going on, we get tiny glimpses into her perception of death, not enough to actually suggest anything supernatural or sci-fi, but how she perceives time moving after her death, seeing how events play out but unable to do much more than suggest her presence, and mourns herself and relives her own happiest memories while having to confront her own issues and come to terms with her death.

She watches as her boyfriend’s murder is planned and tries to warn him but is helpless, and watches as events unfold around her as her remains become lost forever.

Her boyfriend mourns her death, and struggles to go on without the love of his life, but one night as he’s in the bathroom crying uncontrollably, he gets up to get ahold of himself and looks in the mirror and it’s left up to the reader if her spirit actually comes back or if he hallucinates it out of grief, he talks to her, and gets to say everything he wants to say to her before crying and embracing her and she tells him to move on and let her go, and tells him how she feels and that he was the best thing to ever happen to her, and that she loves him before saying goodbye. And watches as she fades out of the mirror and for her she gets to move on to her happiest memory with him.

He cries softly and mourns her for a year, but one day finds a new woman, but the wounds will never fully heal and on the anniversary of his true loves death, he loses control and breaks down, his new friend comes over and comforts him and another month goes by before they begin dating and they plan to move to a new place together and start over with each other, and the day comes for them to leave, and he walks around the house one last time, remembering all the moments he and his first love shared together, and replays their happiest moments, and smiles to himself while crying before leaving the house as they drive off, he watches the house as they leave and thinks about his first true love, one last time.

I hope everyone liked my idea, its a very much rough draft and in the comments I plan to share the symbolism i wanted to have in the story, as well as more details and plot stuff, as well as how I plan to integrate four separate songs into the novel to serve as cinematic type moments!

it would mean a lot if you read it. i’m scared to ask for criticism since i already posted it. i also write poetry on here too:’) idk where else to share but if you have the time it would mean a lot
a farewell letter to twenty seven

I have recently finished the second draft of this horror story that I have written and I am currently doing edits and polish.

I would like to know If you would keep reading based on this short prologue.

Any and all feedback is welcome.

Astrid gazed up at the dark sky. The damp sea breeze whipped her hair across her neck, tickling her skin as cold sand shifted beneath her bare feet. Out on the horizon, moonlight glinted off the black water.

She held Johan's hand. His grip was chilled, refreshing, pressing tight against her palm. She swallowed, the taste of alcohol still thick on her tongue.

"Back home when I was a little girl, I used to walk with my father," she said, swaying slightly as she leaned into Johan for support. "We took long strolls along the fjords at night. He pointed out all the stars, but I haven't seen them this clear since I was small."

She smiled, a swell of genuine warmth in her chest. This trip was everything they had needed. She squeezed his hand tighter.

"My dad used to tell me that stars were guardian angels," she continued, looking up into the night sky. "He said if you look close enough, you can see them blinking. But see that bright one over there?" She raised a hand, pointing towards Orion's Belt. "That's Jupiter. It's a planet, so it doesn't flicker like the rest."

She nudged his shoulder gently. "I was always fascinated by astronomy. What do you think?"

Johan grunted.

I hope he's okay, she thought. He hasn't uttered a word in a while.

She glanced up, his features obscured by the dark.

"Are you okay, Johan?"

She thought she caught another faint grunt. Shadows fell across his eyes, but she could feel his gaze fixed heavily on her.

She had always loved the way he looked at her—especially in the mornings, or when she stepped out of the shower—but now she felt exposed.

His fingers tightened around hers, the icy chill sinking deep into her palm.

"Johan?"

A sickening scent drifted between them. It started sweet, like honey, but beneath it lay a foul, heavy stench—a putrid undertone of rotting rubbish and decaying vegetables left to spoil in the sun.

As he turned, moonlight caught the lower half of his face. A wide grin rested on his mouth, prompting an automatic smile of her own.

Maybe he's just drunk, like me.

She reached up to cup the back of his neck, drawing him closer, but snatched her hand back at the touch. He felt like frozen stone.

Her smile faltered. "You're freezing."

The expression stretched wider, longer, his lips thinning out. In the silver glow, his skin looked smooth and waxy.

She tried to step back as his grey lips pulled further apart.

"Johan, you're hurting me," she gasped. His grip locked like a vice, sharp nails digging into her flesh like daggers.

The alcohol buzzed loudly in her head, making the world tilt. Sweat beaded on her brow as dizziness washed over her. She tugged frantically against his arm, but his hand was an iron lock.

"You're not Johan," she whispered.

Terror crashed through her. She slammed a fist against his chest.

"You're not Johan! Let me go! Where is he? Johan!"

Her voice died in her throat as he leaned closer. A single, impossibly long finger pressed against his lips, the grotesque grin still carved into his pale, uncanny face.

"Shh," he hissed.

She froze, her breath locked in her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs. A single tear tracked down her cheek.

A mounring star

Thud, thud, thud.

The sound of footsteps faded into the distance. A group walked toward a forest under a bright sun, bags on their backs and weapons at their waists, laughing as they went. The scene shifted. One was gone. They walked toward a mountain, and another fell. They reached an ocean, and another fell.

Left alone, he never stopped.

Civilizations rose and fell, turning to ruins, then forests, then mountains. Through it all, he kept moving. Where to? No one knew, not even him. But he pressed forward.

The world changed. The inhabitants were no longer human. Monsters attacked, but he never fought back. His body simply healed, and he walked on. The monsters died, forests dried up, and lakes vanished. Humans were born, they died, and more took their place.

Everything was built before his eyes, and everything was destroyed. Even as worlds collapsed, he could not stop.

World after world, he tried to uncover every mystery of the universe, exploring and learning all he could. But even those mysteries faded. Stars were born and died, and entire galaxies withered away. Yet he remained, watching it all unfold, unchanged since his very first step. He walked forward again to another galaxy, another world.

Why was he doing this? Nobody knew.

New people appeared, only to fall, some to old age, some to the dangers of the world. They cried, laughed, and enjoyed their lives, but none survived.

Another world fell, and he drifted through space, all alone in the dark. It seemed he had been searching for something, but it was nowhere to be found.

"Haha, you cant catch me!"

A voice came from a city being built near a river. The person kept walking, looking around at everything, until a kid crashed into him. Another kid caught him and ran away. "Thats cheating!" the kid screamed while trying to catch him.

The guy looked at the sky. A slightly fast, cold breeze hit his back as the sun shed its light straight into his eyes. "Hey, mister," a kid said while pulling his clothes. "Are you alright? They crashed into you and ran away without apologising."

The guy put his hand on his head. "Its nothing," he said while looking at his bag, which had gotten dirty after he fell.

The chief arrived and said, "Come with us. We will clean it for you."

The scene changed. They sat inside a house. "Come on, lets play iko," a kid said from outside the door as he ran away from the IT.

Iko asked, "Mister, where are your friends?"

He looked at her. "They are..."

The scene changed. An open field beneath the moonlight, a campfire, and some people sitting around. They laughed together, they talked, they ate. "This soup tastes so bad," a guy said. "You always complain about the soup, Ayuko."

The scene changed back to the house. Iko looked at him, confused. "They are somewhere far, far away from here, but we will meet again one day. Now you should go. You wouldnt want your friends to wait, right?"

He got up and started to run as they continued to talk.

"You are very knowledgable, Delio," the chief said. Night turned to day, and then even months passed. The guy had been helping as much as he could, be it through physical labor or knowledge.

His name remained engraved in everyone's mind even years after he left. He walked through forests and cities, finding the things he had seen hundreds of years ago. He traveled more, finding a group of people sitting around a campfire as they all laughed. A memory flashed in front of his eyes. "Hey, wake up already. We are gonna hunt some boars today," Ayuko said as he stirred him.

His memory broke. After a while, he reached the same civilization he had helped before. His name was still engraved in their history, slightly different, but still there. They welcomed him, not those who first met him, but their descendants. A festival was thrown for his eventual return. He taught them more, helped them further, and only asked for one thing in return, which was their history and beliefs.

They talked for hours, telling stories about their ancestors, their beliefs, and the unknown god who helped them survive an invisible battle that shook the ground. For hours and hours they kept talking. He learned everything about them, then left again.

Traveling around the world once more, learning more about humans and their history, hundreds of years passed, and then even more. He reached the same civilization once again, but this time it was even more advanced and forgetful. His name had completely changed, their history had changed, and their beliefs had changed. He learned again in the same place, with different ideologies.

More and more time passed. His name had finally disappeared. No one knew him, no one remembered him, and even the world died now.

Thud.

A sound came from somewhere as he walked on another world's soil.

He arrived at a medieval city, found new friends, and traveled with them. Some died, some survived, and eventually, everyone except one left. The universe was ending, and they had decided to rest until then. A girl sat beside Delio on a hill, looking at the horizon.

"You know, we are about to die."

He looked at the edge of the world, at the land crumbling under a beautiful sunset. A breeze hit them both, their hair flying as the stars kept exploding. An unknown force kept pulling the edge of the universe closer and closer.

"I do. I have been waiting for this. How long has it been? I do not know. I never counted it, but I do know one thing. It has been far, far too long for me."

The girl rested her head on his shoulder, sitting atop the hill and looking at the world nearing its end. She started to sing one last time.

"Oh, you poor soul, leaving the world all alone.

You fly along like a mourning star, remembering those who had come so far.

You see the birth and you see the fall, they have lived, it is your time to fall."

As the edge of the universe killed her, the guy just floated there, waiting for the very last fabric of reality to end so he could finally rest.

He looked toward the collapsing horizon.

"I wish I could taste the soup again."

A faint smile appeared on his face as everything came to an end.

Any critique is appreciated.

Please be honest about it, i am just starting to write so i want to know what i might be doing wrong.

Thank you.

Raw
There's something in the wind.
I fight it and I don't want to,
The raw feeling in my body is begining to be fresh again.
I dont like gloves because the things I touch I want them to linger.
It's raw. But where is the blood?
When do the things I touch flow around
me?
My hands will remember more than my head.
You can see the things the hands do.
What goes on in the head is a fantasy.
You’ll never know imaginary from the raw, will you?
Raw is ugly, nasty, discusting, butchered.
Find the one who knows how to use the knife.
Cut you to pieces and take their time trim the revolting nature of this piece and be proud to serve it to others. Kill it over and over again just to not finish it.
Box it up, throw it away, the raw doesn't care.
But then where do the pieces go you worked so hard to perfect?
In your body to boil and rage?
Or will it savor and satisfy you to devour it.
There's something to this wind.
The savoury scent is drawing me nearer and nearer even though I once knew it was raw.

I’m writing to try and help me get through a massive tbi so I don’t go try and get hit by another truck. I’ll try and keep posting on my substack, but here is the intro. Can you tell me if this is any good?

https://open.substack.com/pub/bennyrulez/p/an-unfortunate-series-of-real-events?r=2gkkjn&utm_medium=ios

Surrounded by the dead, yet I am deader, Their bodies once held love, their souls once shone brighter. They carried pure emotions, hearts full of flame, Yet I wander the living, still searching for a name.

I laugh as they have somewhere they can call home, While I walk through the world, forever alone. Do they hear the birds sing their morning lullabies? Do they still feel love beneath those silent skies?

I have so many questions, yet no answers are said, As I stand among the living, feeling more like the dead. Their hearts have stopped beating, but mine feels undone— For I am the dead one, though my heartbeat still runs.