A Story Cut Short Novels & Stories

That was all he said as he took his briefcase and made his way out of the house while I watched him leave helplessly. “I could be good for you.” I whispered in frustration and stomped my feet before clearing the table and dumping them in the sink. I spent the rest of the day as usual, stealing Nick's shirt and hiding it in my room so that I could fuck myself to it at night. When 6 PM struck, I got a text from Mom with a message that had me sighing in despair. Mom: “There's unfortunately too much work. I think I'll be home by midnight. Or in the morning. Take care baby, xoxo.”

She slapped my arm making me turn toward her, her eyes glaring at me, "What the hell is wrong with you !" "You will get back together, no way i am letting you both drift apart again." It's not by your hand. I wanted to say. "This is no fairytale Katherine." I said, "Not every story have a happy ending." "Who cares about the end." Katherine said, she had a point, "The story is what matters." I looked at her and shook my head again. The story matters but didn't our story end ? It did. It ended the moment i turned my back and left.

The story was like a well-worn comforter, familiar and comforting despite its predictability. As I reached the end of the story, I saw an ad that read, "Searching for a roommate who can give me inspiration." At first, I thought it was strange for someone to ask for inspiration from a roommate, but I didn't dwell on it since Ren was finally emerging from the elevator, looking stunning in his well-chosen clothes. I stood up to greet him, but he seemed more interested in the fact that I was reading the newspaper. He grabbed the paper, saw the ad, and gave me a smug grin. I could tell he was up to no good.

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.

It made Aelira snort so hard she dropped her mug. When it was my turn, I didn’t stand. Didn’t clear my throat. Just whispered, “Once, there was a girl who could hear the threads.” Silence fell. “But this story isn’t about her,” I continued. “It’s about the people who taught her how to live without them.” A murmur. A breath. I glanced at the fire, then added, “And it ends the way most stories should.” A pause. “Not with a battle.” Not with a death.

Mom said, "Oh, it didn't come off? Sorry, I'm getting old and weak. I'll make another cut right now." Mom aimed at the wound and struck several more times. She had never cooked, so she didn't know how to chop bones. After a few swings, she failed to sever the lower leg and only left several new gashes. Grayson watched helplessly as Mom raised and dropped the blade, adding fresh wounds to his body. The pain was so intense that his eyes turned bloodshot, the ruptured capillaries spreading across his eyeballs until they became a vivid, horrifying crimson. He cursed loudly, "You bitch! Kill me if you have the guts!"

Sorry man but you will have to go like this… I will at least shut your eyes though" He shut his opened eyes. Luke finally regained the light in his eyes after his vision suddenly blacked out. "Huh, did my speech motivate you so much that you found the willpower to fight against death in a deserted land where you couldn't find hope in complete darkness? I think I have a talent for consulting." "Shit how did you make that much of a story? I was just burning the image in my mind but you disturbed me, how are you going to Pay For That." "Ah oh um, ahem. Once a woodcutter was cutting a tree alongside the bank of the tree, but suddenly his

He felt fast action was vital,so he tried to twist the cyclist's head back to it's proper position,BREAKING THE BIKER'S NECK! I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Hi there reader, thank you so much for reading this short story. I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave me a review, and if you liked My Husband’s Regret, Not My Problem, then check out my other works. Bye for now.

Writing "His Unfinished Love Story" was like talking to a friend for me. It came from a place where I was struggling with family stuff, and I didn't really have anyone to open up to—no best friends or unbiased family members. Counseling wasn't my thing, so I poured it all into this book instead.