Books That Are Read To You 소설 & 이야기

There weren't many toys, but there were plenty of books. "Do you want me to read to you until your dad comes here?" I asked, and she nodded eagerly. "Yes, please." I looked through the books to find one I knew and grabbed a chair and sat next to her on the bed. I had purposefully left the door open so I could hear Ford's footsteps when he was coming. But there were lighter footsteps headed this way as I read the first page. Soon Percy stood beside the bed, "can I join?" I nodded, and he sat beside his sister under the covers. The kids seemed mesmerized as I read to them. I tried to use different voices for different characters, which made them laugh.

She realized Xavier saw her in a way no one else ever did. Ten minutes passed. The babies were still active, making Liora sigh in frustration. Xavier reached for a small book on the nightstand. Its cover was blue, illustrated with the moon and stars. “What’s that?” Liora asked. “A storybook. Isabelle left it yesterday.” Xavier opened a page. “Maybe my boring voice will calm them down.” Liora stifled a laugh. “Even I might fall asleep first listening to that.” Xavier began to read in a low, steady voice. Not theatrical, but flat and soothing, like the flow of a river at night. Liora closed her eyes, listening. From time to time, she felt the babies move less, then stir again, then settle.

Images of Youyou leaning on the headboard and lazily flipping through the comic books appeared in his mind. The school recommended this list of books to parents. Yuna specially purchased a few series at the bookstore according to the booklist and placed them on the bed stand. Before going to bed at night, she would cradle the boy in her arms and gently read him stories from the books. Usually, the little lad had a distaste for these comics and books that were like child’s play to him; he found them to be a tad boring and dull, but because he loved his mommy’s storytelling, he tolerated listening to them.

The room was alive with chatter and excitement, the kind that only children can bring. We gathered in a circle for story time, each child taking turns to pick a book from the small library we had assembled. As I read aloud, their eyes widened with wonder, completely engrossed in the tales of adventure and heroism. It was in these moments that I felt a deep sense of fulfillment, knowing that I was making a difference in their lives, even if just for a day.

I write little stories just for them. The characters look suspiciously like my children. It makes them giggle—even if they don’t understand it all yet. I sit on the nursery rug, both babies in my lap or at my side, and I read aloud while Kael tries to chew the pages and Lyra claps every time I do a funny voice. Sometimes, when I’m deep in the middle of one of my silly tales, I sense him behind me. Ferris.

she had replied, “I’ve always loved this book.” “When I was six years old,” she said, “I saw a picture that had a great impact on me. It was in a book called ‘The Real Nature Stories’…” Lydia had begun reading the book aloud for our child. I had put a hand on her belly and laughed, “You hear that, little one? Your mother’s telling you stories already! Aren’t you going to grow up to be a big reader!” “Shush!” Lydia had said in mock anger, “I’m reading it aloud for you, too.”

He's looking at the pictures. I sit on the bed next to him and glance at the page. "Want me to read it for you?" I look down at him, and he nods, holding out the book. "Guess How Much I Love You." Sitting, I read the book to him, and it was clear he couldn't read and was just looking at the pictures. I finish, and he glances at me. "Again?" Rolling my eyes, I begin to read it repeatedly because he keeps insisting I read it, and I can't say no.

She sat down behind the bus driver as the doors closed behind her. Ellie pulled out the phone her mom had given her in the car before they had left and turned it on. She scrolled through the apps, noticing a notification indicating she had 3 new text messages. She ignored the notifications and opened the audiobook application. Her finger scrolled through the books loaded on the phone and the books she could d******d. She pulled out the headphones that came with the phone, plugged them in, and scrolled through the preloaded classics on the app. Tears came to her eyes as she saw Pride and Prejudice. She hit play, settled her head against the glass window, closed her eyes, and listen to the soo

Alya lied down on the couch and rested her head on the pillow, smiling up at me. Stories were our thing. After a lot of effort, I got her into reading. But her only condition was that I read to her. Ever since, we picked an author and I read all of their best books to her almost every day. And Oscar Wilde's The Happy Prince was the first book I read to her. It became her favorite book and Wilde her favorite author.

The librarian, a wise old man with spectacles perched on his nose, had greeted them warmly and invited them to explore the dusty shelves filled with ancient tomes. As Scarlett's fingers grazed the spines of the books, a particular leather-bound volume caught her eye. Its title, "The Prophecy of the Shifting Stars," called to her with an inexplicable pull. She plucked it from the shelf and dusted off its cover, revealing faded golden letters etched into the leather. Curiosity burned within Scarlett. She opened the book and began to read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The words flowed like poetry from her lips, resonating deeply within her soul.