Blog Stories Novels & Stories

After Wendy started staying by his side, Matteo gradually stopped mentioning Evelyn. He even allowed Wendy to act more recklessly, to the point that she began posting about their daily lives online. The narrative of a powerful CEO rescuing a helpless young woman trapped in the nightlife scene quickly made her account go viral. In her latest post, she shared a video of Matteo throwing her an extravagant birthday party and even proposing to her in front of all the guests. The proposal video exploded online, and within just two months, Wendy's social media following had skyrocketed into the millions.

“Do you have any idea what you are doing right now” Victor’s voice thundered through the phone as he paced across the length of his bedroom. “I paid you to clean this mess, not to sit there and tell me it is complicated” On the other end, the blogger sighed, his tone cautious. “Sir, the story is already everywhere. Multiple platforms picked it up within hours. Even if I post a counter piece, people will question it. The evidence looks convincing” Victor stopped walking. His grip tightened around the phone. “Convincing” he repeated slowly. “You mean the lies look convincing”

A text had arrived thirty seconds earlier, from the same number, three words that stopped her mid-step in the driveway. *Check today's post.* Emma opened her browser. Dana's blog loaded slowly in the coastal signal. The new post was titled: "The Story I Almost Wrote. And Why I Didn't."

Sometimes healing doesn’t need a fix. Sometimes it just needs a pause. That night, Ryan uploaded his first anonymous blog post to the campus bulletin site: “The people who say they love you might just want to own you. And the people who seem like enemies might be the ones who see you clearly. I’m not telling this story to expose anyone. I’m telling it so no one else has to stay quiet.” And that’s when the messages started rolling in. One. Then ten. Then fifty. From students. From strangers. From survivors.

It was then he got caught by my Mom to be cheating on her. It was a big blow for my Mom because several times he had promised to end the relationship but only for her to find out after a few months that the mistress was transferred to another house only. I was tired seeing their relationship fall apart. And that is why, here I am in a convent trying to have some peace of mind and saving myself from possible heartaches in the future. I don't believe in fairytales anymore. For lovers, it's only once upon a time they were happy, then they end. So here is my story.

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

Luna embarked on a journey to craft a powerful narrative that would resonate with her customers and convey the essence of her brand. To create her brand story, Luna delved into the origins of her business. She explored her personal journey, the challenges she faced, and the inspiration that drove her to start her own brand. Luna discovered that her passion for creativity, her love for nature, and her desire to make a positive impact on the world were at the core of her brand's identity. She weaved these elements together to form a captivating narrative that would engage her audience.

I would normally just brush it off and apologize, but my mind just blanked for some reason earlier. I still don't understand why these people are suddenly gaining colors. Why specifically these people? It's not even limited to the people at school anymore since Al's obviously from somewhere else. It just doesn't make sense. It's not like I know them from anywhere else. I wish I knew something more about my illness so I could at least stop being so confused. Come to think of it, I haven't even told Aunt Autumn about any of what happened. Maybe she can somehow help me understand. I doubt it, but I can still hope for answers.

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It was coming from her—my stepmom Sarah—and him—my stepbrother Jake. I lounged on the big sectional couch in the living room, legs stretched out, my nipples already hardening against the thin white fabric of my tank top. No bra. I hadn’t worn one on purpose. The wine had me flushed and bold, my pussy tingling with that slow, forbidden ache I’d been ignoring for months.