Hood Stories Novels & Stories

I was just back from the market, grocery bag in hand, when I spotted them—over a dozen sleek luxury cars crowding the old Hamilton house's driveway. I hadn't seen anything that flashy in years. Laughter and whispers floated over the gates as I got closer. "It's been three years. Bet that 'heiress' looks like a total backwoods mess now." "She's no heiress. Just an orphan mooching off the Hamiltons. Does she really think she's something?"

(And still I don't want a title of 'God'). The wide lap of this eternal sky is the shelter of every homeless and hopeless soul of the Ard. And that kid was also one of them, and I was interested in what if I cuddle his life with the huddles of lies. I narrated his life as a fact and people believe in it as a myth.

They left a decent neighborhood for a rundown apartment block. Word on the street was that Rhett got so sick he nearly did not make it, and Kelly aged a decade in a single night. They had once been the pride of the block, always bragging about their daughter’s big achievements. Then, they became the punchline of every neighbor’s joke. People whispered that I went too far, that I forgot old loyalties. In response, I would give a half-smile and stay mum. Did Sheila think of the sacrifices I made while she was off studying abroad on my dime? Did she spare a thought for the house I mortgaged or the plain dinners and crowded bus rides I endured?

"You think just because your parents are dead, the rest of us have to treat you like a princess? I've put up with it, fine. But Brianna is not your punching bag." Everything went still. I stared at him like I was looking at a stranger. My parents died because they were heroes. They stepped in to save someone and were killed for it. I didn't even find out until sophomore year, when the man who did it was finally caught. The day I went to the cemetery, both Dexter and Brianna stood at my mother's grave and swore they'd take care of me, that they'd never let me be hurt. Now one of them was crying like I was the one who'd wronged her, and the other had his arms locked around her, looking at me l

This incident was just an insignificant episode in life, and I did not pay it any mind at all. Just as I finished tidying up, there was a knock at the door. It was the community courier delivering a package. Through the door, I told him to leave the package in the entrance. He replied politely and left quickly. We never opened the door to meet, let alone had any physical contact or extra conversation. After signing for the package, I continued with my housework. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and everything was calm and normal. I had no idea that this trivial accident under the bed would trigger a family trouble completely unrelated to romance a few days later.

Yasmine's diary entry: Rob's stepdaddy is back from his travels and I have to say that he is so hot. The moment I saw him, my pussy began to throb. He has a huge cock as I could see the outline of it in his pants. I know, I know, he is my boyfriend's step-dad and I shouldn't be such a cockwhore. I should stop having such thoughts but can you blame me? Rob doesn't know how to handle my insatiable cunt so most times I have to find other means to help myself. Maybe his stepdaddy will be interested?

She said if I continue staying at his mother's place it will look like we were forcing him and making him appear like a god. She called my mother in-law and told her that she wanted me to come and spend some time with her. I later went over to stay with my Mother. I'm always in tears because it seems my world came crashing on me. Joba suddenly realized that he wanted one woman to bear his children. Why did he get married to me and not his baby mama. All this makes me wonder over a novel I read on Amah's Heart. "What does my husband really want? Was he just confused on what he initially wanted but it suddenly occurs to him that his children should be borne by one woman.

Ten years passed in the blink of an eye, and I had a brand new life. The roses I had planted by the bank of Lake Zürich were blossoming beautifully, and my daughter stood on her tiptoes to pick the largest one. The nanny tried to stop her, but I shook my head. I wanted my daughter to have a happy, carefree childhood. I was now running a hedge fund that helped victims of financial fraud get justice. I called it the “New Life Fund”. A few days ago, I received an email from Robert. He said Victoria could barely speak nowadays, mumbling incoherently to her imaginary children. Daniel was rotting away in bed and could do nothing but breathe.

However, Koah only lowered his voice and said to me, “Honey, they’re a single-parent family. Raising a child alone isn’t easy. You and our son should be more understanding.” I pointed at Wanda and her son, my voice trembling as I spoke. “What exactly is so hard for them with you supporting them, running around and taking care of everything for them?” “How can you say that?” Wanda clutched her son, looking as though she had suffered a tremendous injustice, tears welling up in her eyes. “Xena Summers!” Koah shouted my name, then grabbed me and dragged me outside. “Honey, Wanda and her son suffered severe emotional trauma in that unfortunate marriage. Be kinder and stop making things difficult