Hardest Questions To Answer Novels & Stories

The anticipation of what was written on the question card made my heart sink through my ass. So far, I had answered questions like “who is your least favorite friend?” And “What was the last thing you Googled?” My heart raced with dread each time it was my turn. Aiden’s face blanched, his firm gaze flicked up at me and remained just beneath his brow line like some deranged psychopath. “When was the last time that you had sex?” he asked, spitting his words out as if they were poison. I almost had to ask him to repeat the question, but instead, I went with, “Excuse me? When was the last time I ... uh?” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Wow, that was direct.”

This person didn't understand why he had to do this at all, just guessing from his expression that he got it wrong out of habit. Emma smiled wryly, "So, it's actually just a misunderstanding, actually, up until now, I've basically never..." The next question, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get it out of my mouth. In fact, the answer is already known, isn't it? What you have to do to make it difficult for others, is also making it difficult for yourself.

She had the most beautiful chocolate brown eyes that would look great on a little baby. “Only when they’re clean,” I answered, shrugging. That should answer the question and stop him asking things that I didn’t know the answers to. I sat down on the little sofa they had in the room, settling Cameron on my lap. “Can I ask you something?” Bryson nodded and sat down next to me. “Sure, bud.” I frowned, not really knowing how to ask or how to phrase it. “Okay, well, are there like rules? I mean, is there like a book or something that I’m supposed to be studying that’s gonna make this all easier for me?” I asked hopefully.

he said. She was quiet for a moment. "Because direct asking requires the courage of direct receiving," she said. "If you ask someone what they see, you must be prepared to receive what they actually see. Not the correct answer — the true one. The mathematician's dilemma: the question that has an exact answer is easy to ask. The question that might have many true answers, or might reveal something you were not prepared to know, is harder." He thought about this. He thought about the question in the field and the attending it had produced in Adrian and through Adrian to him and through him to the library and the chain. He thought about the question asked directly versus the question practiced

He sighed again as he tutted, “I do not see what you are trying to accomplish.” I threw my hands up in defeat, “Okay, another question. What is my favorite color?” Ford looked baflwed, “what is this nonsense?” “Who am I closer to? My dad or my mom?” He didn’t answer, so I fired another round of questions, “what are my grandparents called? Which one is my favourite? Who is my best friend? What food do I hate? What food is my favorite? Oh… Last one… What have I been doing for the last couple of weeks to help this pack?”

“Number one, never answer a question under pressure. Take your time to answer at a leisure place. If you’re nervous, they can smell it and will prey on you like wild animals.” She had nodded along as he paced in front of her, while the stylists worked their magic, doing her makeup and styling her hair. “Number two, you don’t have to answer every question. You can pick and choose.” Finally he stopped pacing and looked at her directly. “Number three, don’t run away from the hard questions. The prying questions that are absolutely none of their business? Those are the ones that will make the people go feral. And those should he your focus.”

Do I mean nothing to them? “My mother? Really? Wait, I might be wrong here. Let’s put this to the test, shall we?” I ask as she is now staring at me, hands on her hips as she taps her finger there. She is pissed, well guess what, so am I. “Let’s see. How easy can I make this.” I ask out loud as I tap my finger on my chin. “I know I say looking at her. “What is my favorite color?” I ask as she spits out. “Red.” I shake my head at her. “No.” I say looking at her. “What sport do I play in school?” I ask as her finger is no longer tapping away on her hip. “Soccer.” I feel my eyes start to tear up as I look at her. “No.” I say once more. “What is my favorite food?” I feel a tear roll down my face

It has served me considerably less well tonight. I had no idea what to say when Beatrix asked me that question. I’ve answered harder questions than that, from men who could end my career with a single phone call. None of them had ever left me standing in my own kitchen with absolutely nothing to say. Standing in that kitchen with a glass of water in my hand, I had no idea what to say to Beatrix’s question. I’ve faced tougher interrogations from people with the power to end my career, and none of them left me speechless in my own damn kitchen.

I stuttered and gave up. Who was I kidding I wasn’t brave enough to ask that. "Noah, what is it?" He asked politely. "Were you there when... I was..." I stopped in the middle sentence. Why it is so hard to ask a simple question? "Yes," He answered, politely yet firm. "Uh- what?" I asked him and heard him clear his throat. "Yes Noah, I was there when you were taking things out of your locker." He responded and I just nodded. What else I was supposed to say?

He said. I was about to protest, but he cut me off by kissing me. When he released, I smiled at him. “It is so easy to rile you up, Mr.Stone.” I said teasing him. “Hey, you didn’t answer your friend’s question.” he suddenly said. “What question?” I asked him. “The question is ‘Is melting Stone difficult or easy?’. So what is your answer?” He asked me. I smiled and said, “It is easier than making a coffee.” caressing his cheek.