Dramatic Stories Novels & Stories

"And then he asked me what I would suggest instead. And I said he could simply ask someone who had already read the programme to tell him what he needed to know. And he said that was a reasonable point." "And?" Diana was leaning forward. Both of them were leaning forward. This was the thing about a good story. It did not require facts to be compelling. It required texture and rhythm and the specific warmth of something that felt true even when it was wearing the clothes of something else entirely. "And that was that," I said, with the smile of someone with a complete story who is choosing to give you the outline rather than the whole. "These things are rarely dramatic when they are actually

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Julian is a successful businessman and with that with what he had achieved he was more than satisfied, that day in the darkness of his room Julian began to remember that he came from a family with many problems, from his father, his father was a man with addictions who beat his mother for no reason when he was with them, for any pretext he beat her without being able to do anything, sometimes he took his lover on duty to his house, and his mother accepted everything with submission the screams that he beat her, she just covered her ears lying on the floor because of the beatings he gave her, she was always bleeding, and his mother accepted everything with submission the screams that he hit,

Emma knew Rob had just as much to lose as she did, so she trusted him to come up with a convincing story if the need arose. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you…" Rob started as they waited for the elevator. "…Tonight is dare night. Anything—and I mean anything—I dare you to do, you do. Understand? I'm not spending the night explaining all the ways I could ruin your life. You already know them. So if I dare you to do something, what do you do?" Emma took a breath, resigned to her fate. "I do it. No questions," she mumbled.

she said. “I thought that it wouldn’t be as busy as it was in San Francisco but its crazy busy as well. I think people in this country care more about political drama than anything else. Eighty-nine percent of the news content is just politics, politics, politics. I am yet to decide if that’s a good thing or not….” “How about your co-workers,were they friendly?” Her mother asked. “Yes, everyone was friendly,” She lied. Natasha knew that telling her mother about the antagonistic and villain-like Luyando would only make her have unnecessary worries. “I know it’s just the first day but I think people aren’t as scheming as they were back home.”

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.

_______________________ Drama-drama 😝😝😝😝😝😝. Let's say to the next drama🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳. See you🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩. This story actually about cross culture.

I’m aware how much he hates his Dad- or should I say we are aware of it. I opened a new chips again and put it in the middle of the table, I focused my eyes on the movie. We’re watching romance movie since that’s what Shia’s favorite genre except for horror. Shia loves to watch horror. She has way more time to watch while me, it’s either I’m writing or I’m reading. Just one of that two, if none of those two, I’m sleeping. *** I stretched my back when I felt it hurting. It’s been three hours since we started drinking and until now, we’re still drinking since Josh bought another two cases when we ran out of beer earlier.

I whispered again. Kissing Tania’s cheek, I gently spoke into her ear. “Are you alright Tania?” She finally stirred, and then opened her eyes. “That was the best experience I’ve ever had, how did you learn to do that?” “Oh, it’s something I read about in an erotic story,” I lied. Putting her arms around my neck, she whispered, “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”

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?”