Featured Story Novels & Stories

A life spent looking backwards misses all the beauty that lies in front of it. Your parents aren’t perfect. You might have realize this. But you’re pretty darn smart. So, like I said before, we have to forgive ourselves or the coulda, woulda, shoulda, fear and anxiety will creep into a crack of our weaknesses, and overcome us. Please know we’re not perfect, and we will never claim to be. Our personal journeys have stories to tell. THAT’S for sure. When it comes time for stories, though, talk to me first… because chances are your father’s are going to be inappropriate. HA!

It was then he got caught by my Mom to be cheating on her. It was a big blow for my Mom because several times he had promised to end the relationship but only for her to find out after a few months that the mistress was transferred to another house only. I was tired seeing their relationship fall apart. And that is why, here I am in a convent trying to have some peace of mind and saving myself from possible heartaches in the future. I don't believe in fairytales anymore. For lovers, it's only once upon a time they were happy, then they end. So here is my story.

Whether it was out of fear of content, no one knew. “HAHAH!” The sound of hard clapping and laughing echoed in the desolate desert-like area. “I have to admit, that is quite the backstory.” Suit was seated comfortably in his chair with chips in his in his hands, staring at two screens. One was of Anderson and his escapades. He had been thoroughly enjoying everything. From his complacency to his guard, or lack of. From his mistakes to his wake-up calls. Suit had been enjoying himself to the point of almost joining the story himself. Unfortunately, the contract did not allow him to personally influence the story in any way, let alone personally get involved.

After a few minutes of goofing around, he said,"hug me." "What? Why?" "I want us to have at least one loved up photo of us so that I can make the headlines better tommorow," he said. "But, you're gonna be on the headlines tommorow. You're making a new product and a new concept." "That's for the business headline." He adjusted his tie. "For the romantic sector," he pulled her close that their noses were almost touching,"I need a good one." "How about this one?" She pulled him in for an Eskimo kiss. He stood still as she rubbed their noses against each other.

Mmmmuah"! A clap of satisfaction was given to him by the audience as he walked back to his seat. Mr Lucas collected the microphone and rounded up the speech with a joke, saying.... "Now that the grandfathers of triplets Amelia, Donald and Anderson have given their own vote of thanks, now it's my own turn to do so being their day's Master of Ceremonies". Everyone laughed as they clapped...to cheer him up. He began... "The title of my story is..."The Cat and the Single Hen"! He continued...

Just a snippet of it. When she got the invitation from them, she literally screamed her lungs out. The Imperial Vault wasn't the normal gallery. It was only for the wealthy...and by wealthy, not the kind of a family hospital wealthy of the Sandersons. Ethan had opened her up to opportunities she didnt doubt her skill to get her, but it will take her years to get there. Yet in a month, she was spreading loud and bright. The camera flashed at some point, but she kept concentrated and the media was loving her anyways.

Later that evening, an unexpected development surfaced. A major international business publication requested an exclusive profile interview. They wanted my background. My story. Briar Glen. The small town. The early struggles. The rise. The narrative potential was enormous. So was the vulnerability. I sat alone in my office after everyone left, staring at the request. If I allowed the story to be told, it would humanize me. It would also expose parts of myself I had carefully contained. Adrian knocked softly before entering. “You are still here.”

he said, "most people who come into this office asking for favors at least pretend to be humble about it." "I'm not most people." "No. You're not." He picked up his coffee cup, stared into it like it held answers, then set it back down without drinking. "Alright," he said. Vanessa's heart stopped for half a second. "Alright?" she repeated. "Alright." Daniel nodded slowly. "You want a deal? Here's the deal. You bring me a story, a real story, not some manufactured controversy, not some puff piece with a misleading headline and I'll read it. If it's good, I'll consider it for the front page."

We explored every corner of the country, learning about those old traditions. During one project, we were filming the intricate process of making a phoenix coronet when he proposed. Thinking back, I smiled faintly.

The headline was not The Story of the Year. The headline was: The Boy Who Decided His Own Story. It was not a scandal piece. It was not a human interest story built around a father who had not known his son. It was a single piece of text — not even an article in the conventional sense, more of an editorial note — in which the journalist explained that she had received an unsolicited email from a six-year-old child regarding a story she had been developing, and had made a professional decision that the email was itself the story.