Dad I Want To Hear Your Story Book Novels & Stories

“He thought he could push me around and I just showed him that he couldn’t. Pictures don’t give you the right to treat me like shit, you of all people would know that.” I imagined him rolling his eyes at me. “Are you going to tell me what exactly happened?” “I’m sure if you ask the right people you’ll get the story.” “I hope you handed his ass to him.” The corner of my lips tipped up. “I did my best.” I could almost see him shaking his head as the call disconnected. Trust my father to call me in the hopes of getting the inside scoop to the story. He was even more of a gossip than I was most times.

looking at him as he reposed on his arms, “…reading books and trying being your dad and make you laugh.” “Dad, I need a story? Can you have one please? Junior pleaded from his old man. “I want to hear events and tensions of my level.” He described his will for the second time. “Then you need to take your hot milk first, for your mom is ready with it.” His dad tells him, as his mother hands it to him saying.

His eyes red and wet from tears making me feel like a total heel for making him cry. “I hope that after I tell you a story…. That you will understand why I did what I did.” He says as I look down at the book noticing for the first time the detail that is on its cover. It is of two wolves laying on a grassy knoll. One’s head laying on the back of the others neck as they both stare at the full moon. For some reason it brings a sense of peace to me. My body relaxes as I take a deep breath. “I’m ready to listen.” I say laying my hand over top of his that is on the book. A frizzier of power zaps into the palm of my hand making me gasp and pull it away quickly. “Yes, it is time to tell you everyth

“I love you, sugar. You need to trust Brack. He knows what he’s doing. I wouldn’t have put you in his hands if I didn’t believe he could keep you safe.” No, he wouldn’t. And, I also knew Brack would keep me safe or die trying. “I love you, Daddy.” “Love you too, sugar. How about I read you a story?” I couldn’t help the slight grin that formed on my lips. “Please.” It took a few moments for him to find a book. Then, his soothing drawl warmed the cold that had settled into my body. I swayed slightly to the sound of his voice as tears sluiced down my cheeks. My father used books to speak from his heart. The story could be about any subject in the world, but the message was always love.

"There I was going, straight to marry a man in a wheelchair that I didn't know..." He begins to read, and although the story is long, everyone listens to it as the clock ticks by; her grandchildren and her children, despite having heard it so many times, listen to the old man calmly. The sick begins to come out of their rooms, all those who are hospitalized also come out to listen. "Dylan junior, send for more copies, I think another batch of this book is going to be needed" the old man says again. Dylan smiles and then answers: “Okay father, you keep reading.”

she added without waiting for a reply. "Aunty hand bag , go and read your books. I wonder how you will pass your exams"Her mother bawled. They talked for what seems like forever before Hussain entered his mother's room. He greeted her happily. "Hussain, why didn't you tell your wife about the journey" his mother scolded him.

Then he lifts me out, dries me with the fluffiest towel I have ever felt, and carries me to the nursery. He dresses me in the softest pastel footie pajamas—unicorns and stars—zips me up, then sits in the rocking chair with me in his lap. Reads me a bedtime story from a picture book about a lost kitten finding home. His deep voice rumbles through me, lulling me until my eyes are heavy. But I am not ready to sleep yet. I shift in his lap, feeling him harden under me. “Daddy,” I whisper, nuzzling his neck. “I want you again.”

And wrote: *“The boy who hurt me didn’t get the last word. The one who stayed silent had to listen. And the one I’m still learning to trust… stood beside me while I faced them both. This story doesn’t belong to the people who tried to steal it anymore. It belongs to me.”*

"What do you want to come next?" Her mother was quiet for a moment. "I want to be part of your life. I want to be a grandmother to your children. I want to make up for lost time." Vienna took her mother's hand. "You can. You are. You will." "I know. But I also want to do something else." "What?" "I want to write a book. About your father. About the truth. About everything that happened." Vienna stopped walking. "A book?" "Your father deserves to have his story told. The world deserves to know what happened to him. And I want to be the one to tell it."

"I'll be looking forward to our next meal. It's getting late, so get some rest. Goodnight." "Absolutely, goodnight." I ended the call, and when I turned around, I was met with Daisy's inquisitive eyes. "Mommy, what did Nathan tell you?" she asked. "Nathan helped mommy out a lot." With the job situation resolved, my mood lifted. I closed my laptop and opened the storybook on the bedside table. "Sweetheart, what story would you like to hear tonight? 'The Ugly Duckling,' or 'Daughter of the Sea'?"