Basketball Fiction Novels & Stories

Hell, even the coach had given up on them, with the school's funding of the game being their last hope, ergo leaving the team's name at an incredibly stupid irony. To their delight, Xander accepted to join the Dunk Kings as they started a game among themselves, with Xander shocking everyone with his killer moves, not to mention he had just the right body to play basketball. To the other world of football, Lucas and the Jaguars were on a try out when he noticed how the court was suddenly becoming empty. "Where's everybody going?" he asked team captain, Scott. "I heard something about basketball," came his reply before tossing over a ball at Lucas.

Those small moments of encouragement make me want to keep writing, even on the days when it’s hard. This story might not be perfect, but it’s honest. Every chapter is written with effort and thought. Some parts may move fast, others a bit slower but that’s how stories breathe. I hope, somewhere in between, you find something that sticks with you. --- PREFACE Before you start, I want to say this clearly: This is a work of fiction. Everything you’ll read — the names, places, businesses, and events comes from imagination. Some details may feel familiar, but they’re not taken from real life. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

He whispered, brushing stray hair from my eyes. Do I? What am I even doing? Do I really just want to be touched badly that I'm fantasising about my friends? Lucas just came back for Christ sake! I stepped back and out of the moment. "That was so cringe Luc, did they teach you that in Texas?" I laughed, stealing the ball from him and running hopelessly to make a hoop. Of course I couldn't. I groaned in frustration, kicking the ball. "You're so awful at sports" Lucas laughed, picking the ball again.

I reach for my phone. I open a message to Sebastian. I type and delete twice. The first attempt is too much. The second attempt is too clever. I settle on the thing I actually mean, because I'm tired of not saying the things I actually mean: do you ever feel like you're living inside a story someone else wrote? I send it before I can think about it. I put the phone face-down on the duvet. I pick up Finn and Fiona and read three more pages without absorbing a single word.

*New Collection Synopsis:.Protagonist: Lucy -- 18-year-old freshman girl (first-person POV), shy but secretly obsessed with the 4 star basketball players on the college team. She’s been crushing hard on all of them for months now,, watching their games, stalking their I*******m, touching herself while thinking about them. The 4 guys: All 20–22, tall, ripped, arrogant athletes. Cocky, dominant, and used to getting whatever (and whoever) they want.

I consoled him and gave him some water. “She locked me up in the store room” “WHAT? IN THE STOOR ROOM? HOW DID YOU COME HERE! Tell me everything.” I questioned. “I was locked inside since morning and when she opened me up, I ran and hid here. She warned me that she’ll lock me again if I told this to anyone.” I stood up and as I went forward Zac held my leg and started to cry. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to get locked please.”

#JUST_BEST_FRIENDS Author: Sam Freddy CHAPTER 11: THE WARNING. — — — After alighting from a yellow ‘danfo’ bus, Jordan and Isioma entered their school's main gate and walked all the way to the Sports Center to rest for a while. They went into a small, enclosed court where they both had a perfect view of the ongoing game of basketball. Funnily enough, they'd barely started discussing when a yogurt seller passed by with his fancy cart.

“Of course not. It’s just a house . . . my house, as you said.” “I can’t believe it. You’re Mr. Horror, and you don’t believe in ghosts? How is that even possible?” “Okay, Bias, I’m going to blow your mind with one hell of a revelation about writers and their stories. I’m pretty sure Lewis Carroll never fell down a rabbit hole into a magical Wonderland; it doesn’t seem likely that Anne Rice believes in vampires; and I highly doubt J.K. Rowling has met any real wizards. That’s what makes it fiction and not nonfiction.”

Of course it would be out of battery right when I needed it most. I dropped the ball from my hands, barely registering the thud it made against the ground as it bounced away. Glancing around, I suddenly became hyperaware of all the whispers and stares being directed my way from clusters of students lingering nearby. "There he is...that's the one." "Didn't he leak those medical records just to get back on the team?" "I heard he even tried killing his own brother, can you believe that? All for some stupid basketball glory." The more hushed conversation I caught, the sicker I felt to my stomach.

“Especially when they’re built on truth.” A faint, condescending smile touched her lips. “Truth is such a malleable concept, don’t you find? Often confused with sentimentality and… well, fiction.” Her eyes locked with mine, a direct challenge. “I read your little blog post. A very moving story. A work of fiction, of course, but moving nonetheless.” I could feel Arthur tense beside me. The entire room was holding its breath. “It’s interesting you should mention fiction,” I said, not breaking eye contact. I gestured to the mosaic. “This phoenix, for example. It’s a powerful myth. Rising from the ashes. But it’s not the only powerful story about rising from ruin, is it?”