Hundred Handed One Novels & Stories

Only I could turn what was supposed to be a romantic, moving proposal into such a humiliating scene. And the worst part was that I'd already been through this 99 times. Isabelle and I had been together for seven years, from ages 23 to 30. I'd already proposed 99 times, and today was my hundredth. On every previous proposal, she'd refused me, saying that her childhood friend, Ronald Shaw, hadn't married yet, and she couldn't break their promise.

Hello! If you reach this part, then I love you and thank you for going all the way here. This part is to thank everyone who spent their time and money to read One In A Million, thank you so much! Writing this one wasn't an easy game. I spent three months writing it while classes are ongoing. I've experienced mental blocks and severe headaches several times while going on with the story, but it was all worth it knowing that finally, One In A Million reached its ending.

The day our family went on vacation to an island resort, my younger sister, Alana Fisher, climbed over a safety railing to get the perfect photo. She lost her footing and, in her panic, dragged me into the ocean with her. The rescue crew was about to pull me out first since I was closer when Mom suddenly took a yellowed paper coupon from her wallet and tossed it toward me. "Corinne, let Alana get on the rescue boat first! This is the last thing your father and I will ever ask you to grant!" When I was seven, I couldn't afford birthday presents for my parents, so I drew a hundred wish coupons by hand. Each one read: [Redeem this coupon for one wish. Corinne has to say yes, no matter what.

He pulled it back making her frown. "What?!" She exclaimed. "I am sorry but I can't hold your hand." He answered with a serious expression. Her frown deepend. "And why is that?" She asked raising her brows. "Did you forget, I am not allowed to touch you." He pursed his lips that were threatening to form a smile. She bit back a harsh reply. She needed his help so she had to be patient. Heaving a deep sigh, she raised her hands. "Calvin, please touch me." It was only after the words left her mouth did she realise how wrong and dirty it sounded.

Arthur was all alone. Beneath the photo was a caption that described the scene. [This morning, well-known local attorney, Arthur Hutton, was left standing alone at the steps of the city hall, dressed in a formal suit and holding a bouquet of flowers, in what appeared to be an attempt to marry his fiancee. The situation took a humiliating turn when his intended partner failed to appear. Mr. Hutton remained at the location throughout the day until the office closed in the evening. The awkward scene, captured by bystanders and shared online, has since gone viral, sparking intense speculation and discussion across the city.]

Then I ordered fried chicken and a cold soda, ignoring everything the doctor told me. James walked over, snatched the food, and threw it away. "You know you had a bad stomach. Why are you still eating this stuff?" He pulled a small box from his bag and handed it to me. "Got you something. It took a lot of effort." Inside was a bracelet. Rare. Expensive. Probably worth over 10 million dollars. He was not lying. This kind of piece was difficult to get. He must have pulled every string he had. If he had given it to me before we got married, I would have jumped into his arms.

Her hands shook as she removed an old folded document. "They gave me this." She handed it to me. I carefully unfolded the paper. It looked very old, like it had been hidden away somewhere for years. At the bottom was my father's signature. My eyes moved upward to the loan amount. I froze. One hundred million dollars. I blinked. This had to be wrong. I read it again, carefully counting the zeros. The figure stared back at me, unwavering. It was really hundred million dollars. The room suddenly felt suffocating and I found it difficult to breathe.

"Renea, three cards that are linked together, count as one sentence, eleven cards, a pair counts as a general, three of the same count as one sentence, three linked together count as well, all the cards, linked together like this, count as a listening card, and in a moment, you'll count it as a hu hand whether you touch it, or it." Only with a full deck of cards in your hand can you speak more intelligently and those who learn can listen more clearly.

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my m

answered him in one single breath. His eyes looked down at me intensely, as if he was making sure that there were no other reasons. He nodded before raising his hand, gaining everyone's attention. Well, we already had the surrounding table's attention from the moment he stood up."One million dollars," His voice echoed in the large hall, followed by a deafening silence. All eyes were on him now."What are you doing," I took a step closer, trying to take down his raised arm, but he grabbed my hand with his free one and squeezed it. As if I had turned some switch. His expression softened instantly. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. His shoulders and back relaxed while his head inched tow