Callout Culture Novels & Stories

“What… is it?” Callum’s jaw tightened. Not with annoyance—but with caution, as if he wasn’t sure how much to say. Then he exhaled, folding his hands neatly in front of him, gaze fixed on the marble below. “It’s… not something they advertise in the pamphlets,” he began softly, voice low and even. “But everyone in Ashwood’s upper circles knows. It’s tradition. Old. Sacred. Brutal.” I turned slightly to face him, my dress whispering against the stone underfoot. “Sacred and brutal don’t usually belong in the same sentence.”

She goes to the podium and is given the black candle, being sworn in to tell the truth. “Please explain the nature of your relationship with Callista Martin,” Albert orders. “I’ve known Callista—or Callie, as we call her—since her first year here at the Academy.” “Would you consider the two of you friends?” “Quite the opposite, actually. Callie and I had our fair share of differences throughout the years.” She’s looking at the council next to me. “During our years at the Academy, Callie was quite the troublemaker, as she continues to be today.”

I make my decision and hand over my keys to the valet. The only sure way to fully end the Booty Call is to breach it, if I sleep with Becky then I will have violated a clause in it, thus leading to its termination. I hastily march towards the room number provided by Becky. Most of the employees here know me. Most stop me to enquire if they can grace me with their services or if I am here o see Courtney of Mr.Emerson. I want none of the two to know of my presence in the Hotel. My father has been trying to push Courtney and me together for an alliance of the two families.

I smiled and answered, "Myself." Applause filled the room. When people looked at me now, there was only respect and admiration in their eyes, none of the old contempt or indifference. After the event, I went back to the lounge. That was when my phone rang. Seventeen-year-old me was laughing on the other end. "I cut ties with my parents. I'll just send a few hundred a month and leave it at that. "It's been a few months since college started, and I want to start a business. I've been looking into tech. Feels like a good fit. What do you think?"

murmured a concerned citizen, capturing the prevailing skepticism. In the cultural sphere, artists and poets seized upon the dramatic narrative, crafting plays and verses that explored the moral ambiguities of Callista's choices. Quoted conversations within theaters and literary gatherings showcased the creative interpretations of her character, with some portraying her as a tragic figure torn between love and loyalty, while others condemned her as a Machiavellian schemer.

Dason looked up as a maid entered and informed bowing, “Master! There is a call for you!” Dason kept the empty cup on the tray and asked, “Who is it?” “It is Tinker Master and he said it is very urgent!” the maid said and left. “Tinker?” Isabelle stood up worried. “Tinker took Clara out to the seamstress for her dresses but she hasn’t returned yet honey!” “What!” Dason frowned. “First let me attend the call please!” Dason strode out to the hall where the new telephone was placed. It was something rare and only a few very rich and privileged could afford! It was a symbol of pride! Isabelle was right behind.

They looked chocolate brown with a hint of green to them, an emotion flashing in them but is gone before it registered. He needed to ask? “I just wanted to go home.” “Had someone refused you that?” he asked with a stern look on his face. “Listen!” I say while pinching the bridge of my nose, “I know a cult when I see it and I want no part in this. Please just let me leave, I won’t mention anything to anyone.” Their eyes grew wider before Alec burst out laughing. “You think we are in a cult!” he said through laughs. The bear had a huge grin on his face that irritated me to no end. Bloody demonic ass-wipe, how dare he grin at me!