Ares Stories Novels & Stories

“Here, it’s almost time for dinner.” “Thanks,” the boy replied before taking a huge bite. “Did your father ever tell you any stories concerning an old man and a foggy hill?” Rhina inquired. “Nope,” Ishida answered plainly. “How many stories about old men did he tell you?” the girl asked. “Quite a lot! Seven, if I remember correctly. ‘The Woodcutter and the Door of Fates’ was one... ‘The Old Man and the Desert of No Return’ was another. Oh yes, there were ‘The Legend of King Makarael the Great,’ ‘Hayami’s Grandfather,’ ‘Heroes of Aquarius,’ ‘Sir Kharkin of the Seven Seas,’ and ‘Aram the Master Sage.” Ishida recalled. “None of them were about a gravestone or a hill.”

"There's more, too. Apparently, the best friend's family is broke, and the harpist paid for all four years of her college tuition. Talk about nursing a viper." International viewers were just as shocked. Even my new friend, Alice Whitfield, was so upset she stress-ate three plates of buffalo wings. "Ivy, your life has been a disaster. "But don't worry. I would never betray you. Not only would I never betray you, but I'm going to set you up with my brother." I shook my head. "I can't. I promised my grandparents I'd move back home eventually." They raised me close, and settling down this far away would only worry them.

"You've got to understand Mendes. He can only be happy if he's with the one he loves. Theresa,he let you go because he cares for you." "I know. I'm just sad because I actually loved him." "You know, when I started dating,I said to a girl,"If you were a booger, I'd pick you." I stifled a laugh. "She actually fell for that?" "Yeah, even I was surprised. She was literally swooning." "Let me ask you some riddles. You're good at them, right?" "A bit," I replied weakly. "Which word in the dictionary is spelt incorrectly?"

Cheska was 12 years old, Francine was 10 years old and Alexis only 7 years old. "We are going for vacation. Kiss your mother goodbye." I said to them flatly. Marga started crying again but louder this time. Cheska the eldest of the three tried to comfort her, stroking her hair. "Your mama cannot go with us. She has work here. But grandmother needs us back home." I lied. I seldom do but it is always for the good of everyone. "it's okay Mama. You can come and visit us when your work is done, right Papa?" It was Francine.

Dad says as he spots the limousines driving towards the packhouse. “What pack did you say you were from?” Dad asks Ora. Ora giggles. “I’m not from any pack. Not yet, anyway.” The front car stops and the door opens and Edgar climbs out. “My parents were kind of royalty in their country.” Evangeline climbs out after Edgar. Mom’s face goes pale. “You. You’re a princess?” She asks Ora, stuttering out the words.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

" Mrs Grassroots paused, sipping the bottle of water in her left hand. I used that time to take in what she said, the story my uncle told me was different from hers. In his, Genesis was a scorned woman and in my professor's, Asiuta, her sister was the villain and the cause of the disaster because she was obsessed with Dordin—which simply means Dordin was innocent, he was a victim of circumstance.

She quickly averted her gaze and looked to where Llewellyn was once standing as he walked into the forest. Lucian was still seated calmly behind her with his back against one of the trees and with her seated directly in front of him, her back to his chest. Being unable to bear the silence, Katherine finally spoke, "Tell me a story," "Milord," She quickly added wanting to remain respectful. His already deep voice was low and sounded like a hum, "You have to be more specific than that, do you wish to hear about the tales of the creatures below sea level or the creatures that plague the earth realm,"

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

Therefore, compared to children his age, he was smarter and more knowledgeable. “Then do you know who turned into Polaris?” This question was too difficult for Scottie. He looked at Ashley in confusion. “There used to be two very good friends, one named the Antarctic God and the other Arctic God. One day…” The stars twinkled in the sky and the insects chirped in the garden. Ashley patiently told Scottie the legendary stories she had seen in the books previously. As time passed, a cool breeze blew past and brought a slight chill. “It’s already late. You still have to shower before you go to bed, so let’s go in.”