Metaphorical Stories Novels & Stories

This journey of writing has been a voyage of self-discovery, where I have learned as much about myself as I have about the craft of storytelling. I believe that stories are the threads that weave our shared human experience. They have the power to transcend cultural, geographical, and temporal boundaries, reminding us of our common humanity. Whether through the written word, oral tradition, or digital mediums, stories connect us, inspire us, and challenge us to grow. It is my hope that my words will find a resonance with readers, that they will evoke emotions, provoke thoughts, and spark conversations.

Where we come from and where we got to The Master of Fate wraps myths with the moon's squeaky hush, and sound to sound the rains of Iran shower us with deep understanding of the metaphor that revivifies cold plateaus and moonlight guise.

It was just in the clearing of the woods, but it was still in the woods. As for the beasts, she thought those were just myths. Stories to scare kids at night. Stories that eventually faded as they grew older. Stories about the beasts who kill people, but they got buried as years went by. They realized beast is a metaphor for people who can't control their emotions and rage. People who lash out at other people when things don't go their way. But now, she knows that those beasts were not just from the legends. She is looking at one right now.

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

She asked me in a very shaky voice. “Those comments don't mean anything babe. You are not a slut or a tramp. You are a wonderful person. All those people, the poster, the commenters, they do not know anything about you and if I am being honest, they do not deserve to know you. You are an amazing person, babe.

A part of her was scared for getting dump after they've had so much sex, so she was trying to hint him into proposing to her. The only way to make him listen to her was rejecting him when he was hungry for her body, because he would be willing to hit his head on the wall for her, if she made the request when he was in the mood….. The novel has lots of mature content, that can be blend into something not so R18, but still have the erotic feel. The audience started making requests for the novel to be made into a movie and hinting on how they will be ready to sell their soul to watch it, if he was the male lead.

“No that’s not what I’m saying at all, I’m asking what you know about fiction?” “You mean if I want to free a character from a story, I have to follow the rules of fiction.” “And what rules usually apply to fictional rescues from Hell?” “Wait, you said she was trapped in a story, not Hell.” “Both Heaven and Hell are stories that we tell ourselves. They’re ways of coping with our mortality and what comes after.” “I suppose you’re right, that’s why we tell tales about descents into the underworld isn’t it?” “Yes it is.”

This was no feel-good fluff piece meant to reinforce some trite, overexploited message like 'love was real' or 'love always triumphs. Gray and I weren't actors. Our clothes weren't from a wardrobe department. Our words weren't printed on a script. Our home wasn't a set full of curated props. Our happy ending wasn't guaranteed. In our living room, I spoke ad libitum, straight from my heart. With her beside me on the couch, I told her how things had changed for me. Working within the confines and limitations of language, I turned to metaphor, to simile. As evinced by the mere existence of poetry itself—to concretize ambiguous ideas such as 'love' or 'happiness' using plain language always, alw

she asked, the tiredness in her voice now lighter, almost curious. “You break the breadcrumb trail,” he said. “We cut the obvious routes, create new ones, make her life look like smoke to anyone who might chase it.” She laughed again. This time it was steadier. “You always use the fanciest metaphors when you’re tired.” “I use the fancy metaphors because you like them.” He sighed, the kind of long breath shared between people who know themselves too well. “And because they make the work feel less like war and more like craft.”

No Way! But you know what they say about the devil being the most deceptive creature that ever liveth? The devil knows how to make a person nurture a thought and then bloom it. The devil already knew that Ace’s colleagues had succeeded in planting a thought in his mind so the best thing that could be done by the devil was to magnify that thought.