Condensed Milk Short Story Novels & Stories

“Didn’t you ask me to cool it down, Young Master?” “It’s too cold! I want warm milk!” Jim entered the kitchen once again. Sonnet patted Maxwell’s shoulders after watching his antics. “Stop being mischievous. You keep making things hard for him.” “I must drink milk that isn’t too hot or too cold,” Maxwell said intently. Jim took the warm milk out. Maxwell lost his grip when he took the glass of milk from him. “Splash!” The milk spilled all over Jim. “Young Master!” Jim shouted out furiously.

I knocked on Zuni Begum's door. "There’s no milk," he said the moment he opened the door, his eyes immediately catching sight of the empty feeder in my hand. He didn't hesitate before continuing, "Not even a little bit?" I asked with hopeful eyes. "No, it ran out this evening. I was thinking of getting more, but I didn’t because of the snowfall. I’ll bring it tomorrow morning," he lied carelessly, but I trusted him. "Good. It’s fine," I muttered, heading back home with my spirits low.

Colonel Anders thunders again, snapping Kate right back into focus and the proper bearing. "Snap" was the right military word. Early mornings like this are the perfect time for her to drift off and daydream – if not completely go back to sleep standing up. Unlike Yssy or the coffeeheads back in CITS High, Kate wasn’t exposed to the stimulating and focusing powers of caffeine at an early age. Her ma forbade her from drinking anything other than ultra-sweet Milo or milk. Powdered instant milk, to be exact, because authentic fresh milk in the Philippines is liquid gold except for that brief spell when a neighbor of theirs offered door-to-door delivery of her backyard goat’s milk. Mrs. Lapuz pro

I asked him, wondering perhaps it was weed that gave him courage to fuck two women at once. “Gosh! I forgot the milk in the jiko!” Mercy said suddenly rushing to the kitchen. “If you pour that milk, you will drink strong tea for a whole week!” I told her as she went to the kitchen. “I am lucky, it was just rising up.” Mercy shouted while at the kitchen. “You just told her to dare you...” I told Ken. Ken winked at me and rolled his head on his neck, smiled and said, “No worry, I won’t.”

If my mother was here at this moment she would have a frown on her face and she would say, “Natty, my boys don’t drink in agony.” “Well mom your son is a coward who doesn’t trust his wife.” I said loudly enough for her to hear. I opened my phone and read her last text. Monroe (wife): Helena’s milk is in the refrigerator if you need it. Just heat... you should know, you taught me. A small chuckle left my lips... the first time she made the milk it was scalding hot and the ratios were all wrong even she didn’t like it herself. Anastasia had sugar in her mouth to stop the burning sensation, it was fun to see her hopping around.

"Full of wolves at that." She removed the pumps from my boobs, and both bottles looked full. Oh, it felt like a weight had been pulled off my body, but my breasts were aching. "Can I see that?" Miall asked, and Anin passed him the bottle. He swirled the milk around and did the unexpected. Miall downed the milk and looked at me. "I am jealous, Amanah; he won't be the first to have your milk." This dumb bitch!

“Milk, Alpha. Just milk.” Another maid stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. “Eli has been crying since morning that he wanted to drink the milk his mama made. But how could we make it exactly like she did? We tried. We tried so many times.” Her voice cracked. “On the sixth attempt of drinking the milk, he just… he just collapsed.” The healer’s expression darkened. “Where did the milk come from?” Silence. Then another maid whispered, “The kitchen. It was prepared fresh.”

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

On the windowsill sat a pot of blooming bougainvilleas. When I pushed open the window, the salty sea breeze carried the scent of lemon blossoms toward me. For the first time in three years, I could breathe freely. I put down my suitcase and went into town to buy some daily necessities from the market. The old woman selling fruit smiled and gave me two extra oranges, saying in broken Anglic, "Welcome to town, young lady." Suddenly, I felt like crying. In the years I spent with the Moretti family, I had grown accustomed to the coldness and scheming of others. Now, faced with the kindness of a stranger, it felt unreal.

He’s so pure! “My Mother used to make a milk for me after I eat noodles when I was young, and until now, I’m still doing it,” he tells me, I stayed my eyes on him, to let him know that I’m listening. “Do you missed her?” I asked out of curiousity, he nodded. “Yeah, but I never wish her to comeback,” he nodded but it’s obvious on his voice the bitterness. *** Paul’s POV It’s quarter to two in the middle of the night but we’re still here outside, we both stayed silent and walked slowly. Holding her hand makes me relax. This is what I want, to have a late night walk with the person I’m comfortable with.