Autobiographical Stories Novels & Stories

Sophia's POV My mother read the last page first. I'd told this story many times now. In the autobiography. At the grave. On the porch in August with the family gathered and the August light doing what August light did. To Catherine in the sitting room with the rabbit and the fire. I'd told it so many times it had become the story rather than the memory. The version that had been handled enough to be smooth. The edges worn down by use. But on a Tuesday morning in December, sitting at my desk with the fourth edition of the autobiography in my hands, I turned to the last page.

Another tough question. “Well, um… I feel like it’s personal preference, but truth be told, every writer has, at least once in their lifetime, written at least one story that has significant references or connections to their own life. I won’t lie, I have, too. In fact one of my stories are based entirely on my early life.” I answered truthfully, as best as I could. “You mean… it’s an exact copy? Truly your life story?” Asked another.

That was all I cared about—me. “Challenge accepted.” I giggled, my head slowly tilting as I felt the booze kicking in. “Keep it real,” he shrugged. “I’m not a writer; I don’t have time to craft stories. My mom was a whore, literally. I was just one of those crazy-ass kids who didn’t wanna get aborted, so she kept me.” I glanced at him as I brought the cup's rim to my lips while he listened intently. I took a sip, continuing my “autobiography.” “I never met my dad, so I never got to ask him why he didn’t use protection. Anyway, during my sophomore year of high school, my mom's boyfriend took advantage of me. I got pregnant, and my mom kicked me out when the bitch heard that the baby daddy was

Due to this, there was a novel that was a hit on w******l, titled 'SEX ADDICTED BOYFRIEND' It was a romance novel, where the male lead was only about having sex with his girlfriend, which the girl didn't mind of course. Seeing how their relationship was moving, without him making any attempt to ask her to marry him, the female lead started getting worried. He was very handsome and a lot of girls want to snatch him from her, but luckily, he was really in love with her. The issue was, sex. He just couldn't do without it for a week. A part of her was scared for getting dump after they've had so much sex, so she was trying to hint him into proposing to her.

You all know I love having a mommy, or a daddy or anyone really, I’ll take a non-binary caregiver really, I don’t mind really. The story, most of my stories have a little bit of me in them, I write being inspired by friends and events in my life, this story, well you could guess who got me inspired this time, I started to write while drinking my coffee getting carried away with the story, I paid no attention to anything but my laptop, I’ll do few chapters tonight, maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll sell it later and make enough to buy a jacket.

And as I looked into the host's eyes, I knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey, one that would take me to places I never thought possible. As I continued to share my story, the host's eyes widened in shock and surprise. "Cynthia, I had no idea," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your book... it's about you, isn't it?" I nodded, feeling a sense of vulnerability and exposure. "Yes, it is," I admitted. "The book is a semi-autobiographical account of my life, my struggles, and my journey as a wife and a woman."

I’m not going to have to dodge that storm, and I can skip all my recuperating rituals. Tomorrow, I’m quitting my job. Next week, I’m flying back home. Biswa was distraught, when I told him about my decision when he called last night. He couldn’t believe it for a while. “What the hell will you do there?” he asked. I remembered Nisim’s insight: For the greatest story-tellers, telling their story is their deepest yearning. It’s their way of life. “I’ll write the second story.” I said. “Second story? When did you write the first one?”

Part 1 Alot of people have different life tale, I have read many and never thought I will one day tell mine here for others to read. I have held back for so long and Just felt is time to let my pain out. I will start right from when it all began. I came from a loving home, my parents were awesome when it comes to caring for us. I'm the first child and have younger siblings. A sister Lucia and two brothers. My parents were young and love each other before getting married.

" I took a deep breath and heaved a sigh. He was looking at me with some kind of resolution in his eyes; like he was hell bent on convincing me yet pissed off at the same time that I was not buying it. He clenched and unclenched his jaws and did the same for this fists to as he groped the steering wheel in one hand. "You don't have to give your self that kind of stupid storyline. You can simply write your autobiography. How about your legs? Huh? Write about them. Can't you? I've known you for a while now and I know you are not shy or insecure about sharing your story because you have bene doing just that on your Instagram posts for a while. You can simply just write about your legs and inspi