Charlotte's Web Audiobook Novels & Stories

Hey everyone! it feels good dropping you straight into the danger again! Things are heating fast...Charlotte’s web is extending beyond borders, and poor Luca might be paying the price. 😭 Tell me in the comments: did you expect this twist at the docks?

Richard Charlotte flashes me a surprised look, then her eyes drop to where I am plugging the flash drive into my laptop. Turning the screen to face her, I tap through to the flash directory: a single file, an MP4. The screen flicks alive and momentarily she frowns, then inhales, horror on her face.... I can hardly blame her. The video is taken live at the auction. Charlotte, demurely dressed, but with a black leather collar circling her throat, stands on a podium. The view of her isn't the best; the shot taken through the heads of an assembled audience.

, Aurora said pulling Charlotte from the book she was sitting on. Charlotte took the book and checked the title. "History of The Great Africa And Africans. Seriously?" "What?" "Can you not do without reading a day?", Charlotte said raising an eyebrow. "Can you not do without breathing a day?" "So, to you, reading is like breathing?" "Certainly." Charlotte groaned. "So boring." "Well, I like being boring", she replied and shrugged. "Whatever. Come teach me a little bit of archery and then we bake later. I intend on hanging out with you throughout the day. I'm tired of Aunt Britt's nagging all the time. She is starting to piss me off."

Cocking his head, he grins and leaves. Lying on the settee, Charlotte´s head rests very comfortably on my lap. It´s wonderful, feeling that everything is back to normal between us. There´s stuff that needs sorting out, all kinds of problems, but it´s not about us. Despite everything, life couldn´t be better. My sky is blue, and the sun is shining. She´s reading a book, and clearly hating every moment of it. It´s on the basics of accountancy, and every so often she emits a small sigh. Also, I see her fingers moving, as though, running through figures in her head, her fingers are helping with the counting.

“You were acting all high and mighty, weren’t you, Uncle Jebediah? Why do you look like a drowning dog now? Scared?” “You… You…” Jebediah moved his lips with great difficulty as he ground out a weak tone. Charlotte shrugged. “Hmm? Why do you sound like you’re dying, Uncle Jebediah? Could you speak a little louder? I can’t hear you!” Jebediah felt an urge to lunge at Charlotte and strangle her. However, he had no idea how much strength Charlotte, the tramp, had used against him. Her kick was so agonizing that he could barely breathe, let alone seek vengeance…

Charlotte's smile widened, her eyes flashing with triumph, as she leaned in closer. "Hello, Alexander," she whispered back, her breath hot against his ear. Alexander's heart skipped a beat, his pulse racing, as he succumbed to the illusion. He was lost in Charlotte's web of deceit, ensnared by her cunning and her beauty. And Charlotte knew she had him right where she wanted him. **************************************

Grey-coloured hair, wrinkled face, slightly bent lips, and other features that showed he was an old man managing a bookstore. "Why wouldn't I come? I mean, I'm the one in search of a job." She closed the door behind her, taking care not to shut it completely, and stepped further into the room. "I had to come." "Ah, that's right. How about we start by asking you a few questions?" Charlotte sighed, already tired of the normal way of humans. Going through procedures that were as slow as traveling on a snail's shell. "Ask away." "Sit down, dear Charlotte." She sat down, her face looking smug.

It was a true miracle. Suddenly, a sounds from Charlotte's laptop caught their attention. “It's Aháva!” Said Charlie t o Carlos, who turned down the TV. “What does she say?” Asked Carlos, anxious “She wants t o talk t o u s stat...” “Answer. She must b e s o confused.” Charlotte clicked the “answer incoming video call” button. “Hey princess! How are you? Look how big you got” said Charlie while she placed the laptop o n her desk.

I had someone pull every book and ledger that mentioned binding charms. Hours stretched like taffy. The healers worked in shifts, chanting, burning herbs, calling on the old rites. Their hands moved with the certainty of people who have seen too much death. The charm resisted at first—sparks flared when they tried to pry its energy loose. Once it reacted, Charlotte’s body shuddered violently, and I felt like I had been punched in the chest. At one point she gasped and a broken fragment of sound escaped her throat. I leaned in so close I could have whispered into her ear but then I was part of the reason she was in this condition.

“Don’t get too comfortable. This war is just beginning.” Later that night, out in the peaceful countryside, Charlotte Thompson sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through the last few pages of a thick fashion and design book. Her room was small and inviting, with a yellow light shining from her bedside lamp. The book had been her evening companion for days, and now, as she finished the last sentence, she smiled to herself and whispered, “If fabric could speak… every outfit would be a poem.”