Mad Libs Stories Novels & Stories

His eyes were bristling with anger while he said this because he couldn’t tolerate Caroline’s rude behavior. “You have time to decide till tomorrow! And if your answer is NO then you can tell me RIGHT NOW!” “I never said my answer is NO. I’ll think and tell by tomorrow.” Caroline rushed out of the office with attitude as she yelled at my dad. ***** “What a dumb human! Money cant buy happiness??? Money can buy anything! And if you have money then why do you need happiness anyways. These emotions/feelings are such a waste of time!” Caroline mumbled in anger in her office.

she blinked. Liam leaned down, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "I'll tell you a story, and you'll fall asleep soon." Liam swiped the screen while his beautiful eyebrows knitted. "What kind of story would you like?" Gemma slowly closed her eyes. "I'll listen to whatever story you tell." "How about 'The Tortoise and the Hare' or 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs'?" "These are too childish," Gemma said with dissatisfaction, quietly opening her eyes.

[my love] The days passed quickly, with Madie spending time with her artistic side painting their room with whatever she wanted. One side of the wall had flowers and plants in them, the other had animals. He wasn't sure if one of them was a unicorn or just a disfigured giraffe. He didn't ask the artist. Dario would help sometimes, but Madeline would shush him away and kick him out because of the mess he caused. Now, after days of designing their room a new look, Madie was taking a break in a nearby doughnut store with Hop and Neil, and others more, as her guards.

Holly suggested they tell stories to pass the time. Isabella started, recounting a funny story from her childhood about getting stuck in a tree while trying to rescue a cat. Holly followed with a tale of her own, involving a disastrous attempt at baking a cake that ended with the fire department showing up. When it was Maxwell's turn, he hesitated. "I don't have any funny stories." Holly nudged him playfully. "Come on, Maxwell. There's got to be something." Maxwell thought for a moment, then began to speak. "Alright, but don't laugh. When I was a kid, I was terrified of thunderstorms. Every time one hit, I'd hide under my bed with my favorite stuffed animal, a rabbit named Mr. Fluffy."

Azfarin slowly turned her head to see the boy sitting with her face turned red with her lips parted. "Turn the Bus Turn the Bus Basted" The same man screamed who was now standing over the driver's head. And he was told to turn the bus. The road was heading towards Sydney's forest. Everyone was squealing now. Everyone thought they would get off the bus after returning the luggage, but they had probably taken the bus hostage. A woman was crying loudly. "Please, please, please." She was crying with both hands. The English-speaking black man was now stepping fast towards the woman.

A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect the insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.

Laura: I’ve always been good at pretending. At school, I’m the quiet girl who gets straight A’s and smiles politely when teachers praise me. At home, I’m Daddy’s little helper—setting the table, folding laundry, saying “yes, sir” when he asks me to do something. But inside my head? It’s a different story. Lately, the thoughts won’t leave me alone.

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper) I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my eyes. I push off from the desk and walk closer, my heels clicking on the floor. “A story, huh? You think you can just walk in here and write a tale for me? How about you show me what you’re made of first? Tell me, what’s your fantasy? What gets you going in the dark?” I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my large breasts pressing against your arm. (Pushing the paper to you I ask you to read it aloud ,you cheeks turn a faint red as you try to explain you brought the wrong story,I press a finger to your lips shushing you and telling you to read, you read it all)