Christian Stories Novels & Stories

Fear? “Why are you asking?” “Just answer the question.” Christian's hands dropped. He took a step back. “There are things from my past I'm not proud of. Things I need to tell you. But not tonight. Not when you just won your first trial and you should be celebrating.” “Christian—” “Please.” His voice cracked. “Give me a few more days. After the Strength Challenge. I'll tell you everything. I promise.” He left before I could argue.

It is the most beautiful thing to do in life with your husband, to pray together. They found peace in praying, they said their adkhars. She laid her head on his lap , finding a peace of heart. He played with her head, the scent blowing his nose. "What do want to eat baby"He asked slowly, unknown to him she was fast asleep. He dropped her on the bed and lay close to her. Sleep took over them. Lukumades, Most European cultures have their version of doughnuts, but Greek loukoumades are arguably one of the tastiest. They're perfectly fluffy fried dough balls topped with Greek honey and cinnamon.

"Where do you get all these stories from? Stories about the death of people in different parts of the world." "I got it from England. My father gave it to me before I went to college. He is not a strong believer like my mother but he values the traditions of the Christian faith. He gets some of the stories from the confessions made by people then he pens them down. Those two stories you read were the only ones not written by my father." "Your father must be a good man. I can't waste my time listening to wicked tales from bad people and not strangle them to death," Paul Okeke said.

All he could do was nod to her words. “It’s crazy, right? I mean, sure you’re tough on your subordinates, but you’re not a monster. Those… Those things don’t exist; they’re just works of fantasy or myths,” Rebecca claimed. “Except those all come from somewhere, don’t they?” Christian pointed out, to her confusion. “All those stories about monsters? They had to come from somewhere, don’t they?” Baffled as she was that Christian would say that in that serious tone, Rebecca answered, “From rumors or misconceptions, maybe. But, Christian, this is reality we’re talking about here. In reality, there’s no such thing as-”

Before I said what they are, there is this interesting story about it: When Bia was smaller than she is now, one of the boys at the( yes, the same boy from the other time) port asked Bia if she had a bible at home, and if not, if she wanted to buy one. Bia asked the boy what a bible was and the boy said it was a book where the world of god was written. Then Bia asked back what the world of god was, and the boy spent a long time thinking about it. When he found an answer he replied: — All that is right and the rules that make us good and fair people. For that Bia replied she already had one of those at home. And I need the book the boy was selling was also a dark leader book, the only differe

I might have gone a bit overboard with the toys, not that Christian complained and Malachi had just given me a look that I couldn’t decipher. Christian and I spent a lot of time together. I took him to the beach and taught him how to fish. We went for long walks in the woods where I ended up carrying him on my shoulders. I read stories to him at night and I missed my mother every day. “Just one more story please, Kiran,” Christian begged me and I read one more. It was hard to say no to that face. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll need more books soon.” Christian smiled sleepily at me and I brushed the hair from his forehead.

“I thought it would end with him. It wasn’t even entirely about revenge. I was trying to help them, free them… I should have never taken charge.” “‘Saint Christian was pulled from the river, and the good woman wept, for the boy was surely dead,” I quote our scriptures. “She laid him out in the chapel to rest, and miraculously – he awoke: a vessel of the divine itself, returned to spread His message.’” “Do desist with the hackneyed verse,” he groans, burying his face in the pillow. “That legend is entirely embellished nonsense.” “Why’d they think an undead demon was a saint?”

But still – it’s rather shocking. My eyes are wide as I pop the caps off of beers and set them in front of Frankie and Nico, listening to them tell me about how Christian’s father found the woman who ran away when she was pregnant and brought the preteen Christian back with him, refusing to let his son grow up outside the fold.

Her God knew he tried. It was funny. He thought back to how much she loved her catholic God, trying so many times to convince him to join her in her worships, only to make up a different excuse every time. He was not the religious kind. He dismissed it as nothing more than fairy tale and stories to scare the children. After the incident he eventually tried to ask him, no, beg him to save her but nothing happened, which only further solidified his belief, and yet, here he was. He laughed to himself and steeled himself even more.

“I’ll have to hear that story.” Christian bit my finger and pushed me off so he could finish his conversation with Dario. “She did. She told me she was hungry for my attention—“ Christian ranted while I decided to let it rest so he could live in a lie. Changing stories to fit his own narrative was his favorite thing to do. Dario listened to Christian’s story with a surprised look on his face, but I didn’t even have the power to defend myself anymore. I decided to let it rest, and all I could look at were Dario and Christian, who seemed to be getting along perfectly fine.