5 Sentence Stories Novels & Stories

“See? Hard.” Theron smiled. “That is easy. Write about today.” Jaden squinted at him. “Today is not finished yet.” “That is very wise,” Theron said seriously. Jaden beamed, then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “But I think you both do not understand the assignment.” I frowned. “How so?” He tapped the book with his pencil. “It says five sentences. Not stories. You always want to tell stories.” Theron laughed, the sound filling the room. “He is insulting us.”

And suddenly we’re being dragged toward the stairs like unwilling sacrifices. “Story time!” Nova declares in a sing-song voice, tugging me with shocking strength. “Two stories,” Nolan corrects, dead serious. “One because Grandma and Grandpa came, and another because they left.” That makes absolutely no sense but I’m not arguing with a five-year-old whose IQ is apparently higher than my own. “You can’t add stories because they left,” Nova argues. “Yes, I can.” “No, you can’t.” Nova snarls. An actual tiny snarl, before smoothing her hair and saying sweetly, “Fine. But what about adding one more because we were good the whole day?”

"What killed you, foolish boy? what can you be talking about? But I'll half-kill you if you don't hurry out of this and come to your supper. I really believe you are getting too lazy to eat. The idea of sleeping the whole afternoon under that turtle's belly!" bamboo, not yet fully awake, stumbled out of the tablet room, and his father locked the iron doors. "So, that's the end of the story. You listened carefully, didn't you?" He asked the children. It's still early in the morning for these stories, my god it's so sleepy. "Sister Vee, it's your turn to tell the story!" They said. "H-Ha? What oum, Kuya James first oh, he has a lot of stories with you today." I said.

My painful scream filling the dawn. ‘I came out of my room because of the noise, rubbing the sleep off my eyes. When I turned the corner I stumbled on something. Looking down I saw Aria, my nanny. Why she slept here on the floor? Her eyes were open. My hands slipped off her neck when I touched her. There was blood. Like on the bird I saw last week. She was dead. But why? I love nanny? Why would she die? I ran crying to find mommy. When I reached the stairs I saw strangers, down, in the hallway, they were fighting with daddy and our guards. There was even more blood and daddy was hurt. Our butler’s chest was naked, and there was a hole instead of a heart. And mom’s maid was naked and gagging

Zahra whispered, not minding to hide the fear in her voice, “But why had they set fifteen huts ablaze?” “I can’t say for sure,” Dodo turned her attention to Zahra, “But my mother told me a story of how the three Kingdoms, after hunting, danced around a campfire. You want to hear the story?” “No,” Zahra and Ginika said in unison. They were not prepared to hear Dodo’s unending tale. She would only end up telling them of how her great, great, great grandmother, told her great, great grandmother and her great grandmother, to her… Her stories usually leave one hungry and light-headed, or it would knock you out.

She didn’t know how to tell him the bees and birds story and hence settled for what she could come up with. “Mm-that’s-mm-okay mummy”, Junior muttered lowly, the room evolving in an awkward silence and it stayed like that whilst the two of them ate slowly. Alice turned to look at Alexia as she changed her sleeping position and almost fell if not for the bed rails that was used to support the bed. After eating, the two engaged in conversations for what seems like hours before dozing off to sleep after she told him a story about the hunter and the princess. **************

Shayla resisted longer, peppering me with last-minute questions about whether clouds slept and if frogs had birthdays. Lucas waited until the others were settled before speaking quietly. “Can you tell a story?” Something in his tone—hopeful, vulnerable—unlocked a memory deep inside me. “My mother used to tell me stories,” I said softly. “Would you like one of those?” Three heads nodded eagerly. So I began. I told them about the moon that fell in love with the sea but could never touch it, about the brave girl who taught the stars how to sing, about the fox who tricked winter into leaving early.

“Story!” I couldn’t help but smile. “You want a story?” I asked, stifling a laugh. The children nodded excitedly. “The wolf story!” one of them exclaimed. “We want to hear the wolf story again!” How could I refuse? The ‘wolf story’ in question was one that I had made up yesterday on the spot, a story about a rogue wolf chasing a little girl. It was a scary story that had made the children gasp, their eyes wide with fear, but they seemed to love it.

His lips are still tilted in that wicked little smile. That night, Jabari and Amara refuse to close their eyes on the furs unless my voice tells them a bedtime tale. Even though I have spent five winters putting Zuberi and Tavon to sleep in our villa, I only know the basic old story about the three little forest pigs who built dens to hide from the big rogue wolf. The second I start whispering the words, I see the totally bored, blank stares on both of their little faces. They are way too smart for baby stories.

he asked, his voice filled with a longing for more. Mama Hazel, her heart warmed by his enthusiasm, smiled. "Of course, Theo. What kind of story would you like to hear?" Theo, his eyes sparkling with mischief, grinned. "Tell me a story about a princess who can fly!" And so, Mama Hazel, her imagination ignited by Theo's request, spun a tale of a princess who could soar through the sky on the back of a giant, feathered bird. She described the princess's adventures, her encounters with talking animals, and her quest to save a kingdom from a wicked sorcerer.