Chichi Novels & Stories

Eleven years ago, At Ibaraki Prefecture High School Akira Kaneko, a sixteen-year-old high school student, possessed a unique beauty with her short black hair, round gray eyes, and lovely brown complexion. With a sharp nose and standing at approximately 152 cm, her friends affectionately called her “Chibi,” a Japanese word for small. She was a hardworking student who cherished self-love but was delicate in matters of the heart.

Amber asks smiling. I smile in approval and we group hug. "What do you wanna have for lunch?" Amber asks. "Spaghetti and meatballs and I'll cook", I tell her. "Okay we'll help you", she says smiling. "Lead the way head chef" Claire says winking and the three of us walk out of Amber's room.

"I'm Antonia, but my friends and family call me Toni." "Hello, Toni. I'm Marc, but my friends usually call me dumbass." Again, she laughed. To her astonishment the sound was clear and not rusty, surprising given how long it had been since she'd had something to laugh about. "I would have said snow-white ass, but then again, I guess them knowing that depends on how close you are to them," she jested. It only occurred to her after that he might take offense. Her sense of humor was kind of raunchy, the joys of being raised in a family where male cousins outnumbered the female ones by almost four to one.

Jackson looked drained of life essence and suddenly picked vegetables to be an interesting subject of observation. "Stop, the cavities might kill me," Maria whined with a red face, "I suppose that's a valid compliment, Pikachu." "Uh, Pikachu?" Jackson asked with a pout, "of all things, a Pokémon specie?" "Well, you're adorable, aren't you?" Maria made bunny ears with her index and middle fingers, "pika-pika." Jackson would settle for cute. No one had ever called him cute. It rang in his head like a band of drums and his heartbeat accelerated.

Chihiro: "We're going to eat sukiyaki tonight, remember to buy some eggs, shiitake mushrooms, scallions, and some green vegetables. The new tenant has arrived and we're going to hold a welcoming party so remember not to be late!" Monica, who had just walked out of Wagnaria, looked at the message that was sent by Chihiro on his mobile phone. He shook his head, put his mobile phone in his pocket, then walked toward the supermarket to buy some ingredients.

It was very relaxing in here and a new place for me to draw in my sketch pad. The gang were busy eating some really good tacos on our tables and ordered a few nachos of different dressings which tasted heavenly. The place was very generous when it came to cheese and they had given us a lot on our orders which Olivia had stated that will cause her a few trips to the bathroom later since she is lactose intolerant but loves cheese. There were great foods and a few beers on our table, I guess drinking beer is an everyday thing on this island.

When I put my mother down, I told her what I was going to do, and she laughed and promised to help me. Before dinnertime, my room was set up with a table by the window, a linen tablecloth and candles, plates and glasses made of fine china and crystal, and cutlery made of surgical steel, shining like silver. There was a table with drinks to serve as an aperitif before dinner. The starter was prawns dipped in a tasty sauce. The mushroom soup was the first hot dish. Next would be the first dish. Salmon with potatoes and lemon butter sauce, which I know Angel loves, but we never have in the pack. It was roasted secretly away from the packhouse so that he couldn't smell it. Then we have a dish of

The restaurant Catherine Hart chose was the kind of place where a salad cost fifty dollars and the waiters looked at you like they were doing you a favor by serving food. Maya sat across from her future mother-in-law, watching the older woman cut her salmon into precise, identical pieces. Everything about Catherine was controlled—her platinum blonde hair pulled back so tight it probably gave her headaches, her designer dress that cost more than most people's monthly rent, her smile that never quite reached her cold blue eyes.

Just a mechanical path between the street and my apartment. It was there, slipped under my door. Thick paper, cream-colored, which seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. My name written by hand in an old-fashioned script, almost calligraphic, with thick and thin strokes they don't make anymore. No stamp, no return address. Just my first name, traced with an application that made each letter unsettling. Elsa.

dat's not wat I mnt Z: *rolls my eyes* R: keep rollin gurl, but v need 2 talk Z: no R: pls mahn dis is 4 luke Z: wtvr R: so u'll cm?? Z: 2mrw 5pm @ central park R: clever. I'll c u der The food arrived and Zehra dug in. "Pizza is heaven!" declared Ivanka through a mouthful. "I thought cotton candy was heaven?" "Yea, that too. And s'mores. And lava-" "Yeah, I get it." Ivanka grinned cheekily and glanced at Nora, who looked distracted. "What's going on in that beautiful mind..." sang Ivanka, poking Nora.