Father Day Stories Novels & Stories

¨ his mother asked worriedly while sitting down while his father poured them all some drinks from the bar. ¨Ah it is nothing, just some annoying colleague keeps hitting on me which i really do not like and today i forgot my meds in the car so i also got one of my famous episodes in front of one of my new students so i had my fair share of a bad day!¨ he muttered while taking the drink from his fathers hand. ¨Is she pretty?¨ his father asked with a smirk.

Vincent asked. “Sorry for what?” I said, resting a hand on my still-flat stomach. “He made his bed. Now he has to lie in it.” “You’re right.” Vincent leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “The past is past. We have to look forward now.” I closed my eyes, feeling the warm Mediterranean sun. In my heart, I spoke to the sky. Dad, you can rest easy now. Your daughter is happy. A gentle breeze rustled through the olive groves, as if my father was answering me from beyond. And here, on this ancient land, a new chapter for the Moretti family was just beginning.

He reassured me. Mom's eyes lit up at that. "Oh, I can't wait to spend the day with them. Your father's been practicing his storytelling skills, haven't you, dear?" She murmured, turning to my dad. Dad puffed up his chest proudly. "That's right. Those little ones are going to hear all the tales I grew up with. Might even throw in a few embarrassing stories about their mother for good measure." He said, winking at me. "Dad!" I protested, but I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. For a moment, the tension in the room eased, and it felt almost like a normal family breakfast.

My father had always told my brother and me about how he had been stabbed in the cheek when he was eighteen, trying to rescue our mother from bullies. He always said that our mother fell in love with him from that day, even though she argued that she fell in love with him after their first date. "Isolde," he muttered. "Do you remember what I told you about Mooncrest?" I took one step closer and shook my head. "No, Daddy, I don't remember. Why don't you come back inside with me and we will talk all about it? It's cold out here." "You must find it," he answered, turning to walk away.

Then she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. The father looked at his son keenly and smiled, knowingly. Then exclaimed. “So you want me to tell a story! right?” Frank Dubila quipped. “Yes dad, something good and original” Junior confirmed with style. “But my son, I’m not Scheherazade of The one thousand and one night. I am just your dad, living in a contemporary era...” looking at him as he reposed on his arms, “…reading books and trying being your dad and make you laugh.”

I thought about what it would feel like to have him buried deep inside me with his fingers curling around my hair. Roderick was close to sixty, but age had nothing on him. He was built like a god, with a body so beautifully crafted that it left me with a throbbing core whenever I caught a glimpse of it. And his face? That perfectly sculpted face? I could stare at him all day. He was my father's best friend, they were friends for close to thirty years before my father died of a heart attack. He had agreed to let me to stay with him since I had no other relatives and my college was just thirty minutes away.

when clearly, my family's life has been very good since working in their house. In fact, whenever he talked about Xerena's family, my father's eyes always sparkled. He praised and adored the family so much that he thought they're the true form of an angel who fell to earth. My father admired Xerena family head, Mr. Kalvin Xerena to the fullest. Sometimes I can only endure boredom every time my father told me about how he met Mr. Kalvin. "At that time, it was raining very hard .. Dad always started his story with that sentence. Makes me feel like he's trying to tell a romantic story. Then my father will continue his story, which sometimes makes me stay up until the middle of the night.

Dad asked curiously. "When we were two, he missed our birthday because he climbed Mt. Everest, but Mom said he got lost on his way up.” “On our third birthday, Daddy was sailing in the Caribbean, but a storm hit it, and he got stuck on the island,” Lyra Helene said. “What happened on your fourth birthday?” My father cut in, wanting to know what other lies their mother was telling them. “Daddy is a drag racer, and he got into an accident a week before our birthday,” Leyanne laughed, causing Dad and me to look at each other, probably having the same thought that their mother was a lunatic lying to her children all the time.

It was more than just catching up; it was like a warm embrace, a reminder of the bond we shared. We shared stories about our quirky family traditions, like the annual pancake-eating contest on Thanksgiving, and the time Dad tried to teach me how to ride a unicycle in the park. I chuckled at the memory. "Oh, Dad, remember the unicycle disaster?" Dad laughed heartily. "How could I forget? You were determined, even if it meant a few scraped knees." Our laughter filled the airwaves as I navigated the familiar roads. Time seemed to melt away as we swapped stories, our conversation a testament to the enduring connection between a father and his daughter.

I would eat the whole piece happily and then he would buy me a small Sunday as my dessert. He spoilt me more than my mother. He loved to see me smile, even if it meant giving me way too much sugar for my own good. I love our daddy daughter dates so much. He made me feel so special and loved. He would tell me stories about his childhood. He told about all his adventures at his family home. I’m pretty sure most of the stories were made up but they made me smile. He made me laugh from the moment we left home to come here to the time he tugged me into bed when we got home, I loved my father so much. I smile thinking about the many evenings we spent in here stuffing our faces with cake.