Dust Bowl Novels & Stories

The entire world froze. Overnight, the city plunged to –40 °F. Yet, in the middle of this frozen apocalypse, my mother, my sister and her son moved into the home I bought for my marriage. Even my own husband took my sister’s side. They threw me out into the freezing cold to scavenge for supplies. I came back frozen half to death, and they had not even saved me a bowl of warm soup. Then, my sister shoved me straight off the fifth-floor landing. In that bitter cold, my body hit the ground and shattered like glass. When I woke again, I found myself back in the week before the apocalypse struck. This time, I resolved to cut them all off. I would make every last one of them pay.

My cousin, Vincent Walker, has fallen in love with Rova Thornwick, the chieftess of a cannibal tribe in Ambryndel. He insists on dragging the entire family to the tribe just so they can sort out the details of his wedding. Little do we know that Vincent has screwed up on the very first day. He accidentally mistakes the tribe's Divine Goblet for a toilet bowl due to his ignorance toward the rules. Vincent and his family are worried that they might get in trouble, so they flee from Ambryndel overnight without letting us know. As a result, my family and I get tied up by the furious cannibals. Later on, we are roasted to death over the fire pit. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Vincent insists on traveling to Ambryndel to marry Rova.

Aloria Was abducted as a baby, something She doesn’t even know, She just think She is a wolfless orphan. She also do not know her real name, the pack calls her Dust, because she is always dusty. But when the rival pack attacks, their Alpha River Tempest claims her as his mate and bring her back to his pack. But kan she trust him? And can he protect her when it is revealed that she is the stolen lycan princess.

Zamani Araya is a masochist and a sociopath. Despite her antisocial personality disorder, she tries so hard to connect with her feelings. When someone kills her brother, she is left with no other option than to find the person and end them slowly. But what happens when she falls for her brother's murderer? Will she choose her new flame over revenge? "Mournful that day, when from the dust shall rise, guilty men to be judged."

Campus food deliveries vanished so often that no one even commented anymore. Then it happened to me again and again. I never identified the thief, but by New Year's Eve I was finished with being an easy mark. I set out a bowl of soup as bait and soaked it with water wrung from an old bathroom mop. I meant to make whoever stole it regret touching my food. A week later, the police did not come for the thief. They came for me. The counselor slid a penalty notice across his desk—600 dollars for food costs and medical fees, due next week. The person who ate my food had been hospitalized for "poisoning." The school was already discussing a major demerit, the cancellation of my first-class scholarship, and the loss of my needs-based stipend. That stipend was the money keeping my sick mother alive. They planned to pin everything on me, shield the real culprit, and bury me under paperwork. Unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong target. I was the law department's resident argument addict, and I intended to turn their dirty little mediation into a public collapse.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"

"I'm a master at laundry and cooking, whether it's fast food, Japanese cuisine, or a French feast. What would you like to eat first? Marry me, and I guarantee you'll be blessed with delicious meals every day, Mr. Getson. So, will you marry me?""Sure!"After learning from the failure of her first marriage, Nancy only wanted an ordinary man to spend her life with during her second marriage. However, much to her surprise, her new husband, Yaacob, is revealed to be the primary heir to the country's most substantial fortune. When Nancy found out about this, her world turned upside down. Such wealth and privilege!After their marriage, Yaacob looked at the bland bowl of pasta before him and asked, "What happened to the French feast and Japanese cuisine you promised?"Hearing this, the woman in front of him swiftly untied her apron, raised one of her alluring legs, and casually sat on the table, "Would you prefer French cuisine, or me?"Yaacob, reminiscing about the previous night, replied, "You, of course!"

He grinned, getting up from where he was, and walked away from her. She could finally breathe. Her hands adjusted her black hair that had already stuck to her face as a result of the blood and sweat present on it, tucking it behind her ears. Her training clothes were messed up with dust, sweat, and a little bit of blood. She looked up at him again as he walked away from her, but suddenly stopped and turned to look at her. "The most important rule of them all. Rule number 6" he spoke. "NEVER FALL IN LOVE"

Maria Genessia Rodriguez - a Commoner, a simple lady who finds magic in everything that's ordinary. But what if a sweet chance encounter will bring her the most important person not just in her life but to the whole Kingdom as well. "You made things beautiful and interesting, Genessia. You made me believe in pixie dust and dancing unicorns...hell, I now believe that every story starts with once upon a time and ends in a happily ever after." -H.R.H. An alternate reality story. Meet the Royal Family of the Philippines. Witness the glitz, glamour, intrigue, and drama as they find the elusive happily ever after.