Fiction Story Novels & Stories

I felt my pussy contract at his words, grasping at something that wasn’t there yet I desperately craved. “Just focus on the stars, baby.” he licked up and down my neck while his fingers finally parted my folds, finding my clit. He rubbed the bundle of nerves until I shook. I stared up at the ceiling as shooting stars and comets zipped by. I felt myself getting close, as if I could join those heavenly bodies up in the sky.

He takes it and scans the lines quickly. “Where did you get this?” I ask. “My parents collected books from all over the world. I have no idea where this one came from.” His face stays mostly blank as he reads. He clearly doesn’t care much for old books. “These are just boring words.” “This is history about Zephyra’s kind. They’re called Crimson Born in this book, and if you look here, they have a queen usually sent down by the goddess.” “This is just fiction.” “Who writes fiction this way?” I groan. “Look at how it’s written

I understand. "The one you wrote is called Love Story. Why did I say that it's a love story? It's because it didn't have any happy ending. Love Story is a Subgenre of Romance. It's a kind of genre with a different story point and goal to achieve something love is at stake, then it has a cruel ending at the end. Love Story shows the couple's growth and challenges in their life, which complicating with affairs." He explains, and then he sits down while staring at me. I nod at him, and it's my loss.

the first man answered walking away, "How about you? I said gripping him the his shirt "No sir" he replied like someone who had seen a ghost "How about the injured patient that was brought here a while ago by a red ambulance, any ideas on where he was taken? I continued asking still holding his shirt "Hmm, he was taken to the central hospital, it just few blocks from here" he replied releasing himself off my grip, then ran away, I quickly ran to the central hospital there I found Linx, he was in the blood storage room consuming blood as he pleased, he had even killed two nurses with the aim of sucking their bloods

Suddenly there was a flash of lightning cutting across the room through the high window, followed by the crack of thunder. The sound of heavy rain could be heard hitting the metal roofing. It was now dark and I was in darkness. No lighting. I felt terribly hurt and abused. At this moment , I missed my parents so much. My mind flashed back to the many times my mother had shown that kind of love only a mother is capable of. I remember when mum had grabbed fearlessly the head of a snake and thrown it off me on one occasion we went out camping by the seaside . I had been fast asleep when the snake climbed onto the bed. Luckily mummy was just stepping in after sitting outside for some time to enj

Maria brought out a book, but Trisha took it from her hand. "No aunt, I don't want that. Tell me a story without using this book. I want something new." "Okay" Maria started thinking for stories, then an idea came in. "There lived a beautiful couple in France. Everyone was so jealous of them because of how lovely they are. But one day someone did something bad and said it was the lady, the truth is that the lady didn't do anything. The husband misunderstood the lady, he drove her out of his house. But after that day, the lady found out she was pregnant, so she told the man about it when she saw him.... The man rejected the child. The lady didn't know what to do than to keep her lovely baby,

he asked curiously, hiding the jealously in my voice. "It's a fairy tale," she spoke casually "It's the werewolf creation story, more detailed than I've ever seen." "Why would he give you that?" I asked confused. Fiona looked up from her book for a moment, lost in thought. I could see the gears turning in her head as she was piecing something together.

The Ghost: The Woman Jamia: ‘Where are you?’ Irina: ‘Starbucks,’ I said. ‘I’m having a burnout staying at home, so I am writing my story here.’ Jamia: ‘Is that a love story?’ Irina: ‘Hmmm, not really, but almost a love story,’ I said and placed the straw trapped between my lips. ‘It’s a sad story, though not tragic.’ Jamia: ‘Uh, I don’t like sad endings,’ she said. ‘What are you drinking?’

ARCANE DELIGHTS I slowly close the journal, settle it in my lap and gaze at its black leather-bound cover. I rub its pebbled surface lightly, thinking. Only stories. These are only stories. Fantastical stories. A little more fantastical than I usually prefer, though well-written, by someone with a much greater command of the craft than I yet possess. The vivid characterization, meticulous attention to detail and a surreal sense of place makes me want to believe these stories happened, but I know they couldn’t have, and am ready to dismiss them as nothing more than fiction . . .

I heard once that fact is stranger than fiction, and even though I felt like I was in the middle of some sort of strange, surreal dream, the facts were all there. I’d met a man in the middle of the street in the dead of night. He’d just appeared out of nowhere. I’d taken him home, slept with him, and then woken up to his accusations that I was taking pills to hide my wolf. My mother corroborated his story and told me her back story. It was unbelievable on the surface—I mean, come on—but I had no choice but to believe it. Both stories lined up in an uncanny way. I could deny it all I wanted, but there had to be some truth to it.