Milkman Novels & Stories

My mind went blank when I got the call from the hospital. My mother-in-law, Marie Palmer, came over to bring my husband, Zachary Lambert, some of his favorite homemade pickles. She had only left not too long ago, but I was now informed that she had gotten into a car accident.

*Song For This Chapter: I Can’t Make You Love Me(Cover) By Bon Iver* Lucas; I stroll through Sal’s mansion with my cup of milk in my hand. I wanted booze, but Mrs Lana refused to give me any till my wounds healed properly. I kiss my teeth as my mind fails to make the milk taste or seem like alcohol. “So much for the power of imagination…” I whisper to myself as I keep walking, and looking about the dimly lit house. Dark as Sal likes it. This was his childhood home.

Rashid, we must make an arrest by tomorrow. On the other side of the fence, a lanky boy was milking the family cow. His mother, a young woman of thirty, was shouting something about a man reaching the moon. Her ears, weighed down by heavy earrings, looked out of shape. Small children, dressed in white and blue were walking down the road. Everything seemed normal, except it wasn’t. The inspector rubbed his hands and walked across the garden to the other side where there was a small Neem tree. He shook a branch and droplets of water trickled down his face. He inhaled the cool air and tried to empty his mind.

Placing his nail less fingers in the bowl, filled with vinegar mixed with red chili powder and salt. Plea…. Ple.. Please… le… leave… me.. Me.. Ahhhhh…..ahhhh….pleas….please… He was crying and begging for mercy. But I showed no mercy towards this fucker who touched my innocent kitten with his whorish and dirty hands… I smirked at his condition….. Hey guys hope you are doing well and fine, how’s the update.. Hope u will like it and share your thoughts regarding this story.. Vote, share and comment.. Please guys comments me your view about his mania, so I could know what you guys thought about this book…

I was about to say before Liam ruined my life but I stopped myself. She looked at me impressed."Wow, I'm impressed. You're going to love cooking in here then. I hope you'll cook me up something sometime?" "Sure."I looked at a picture sitting neatly on the sideboard.The only picture I've seen in this house so far that was of an actual person.It was of a man with his arm around an older woman."Who's this?" Michelle's heels made a click-clacking noise off the hardwood flooring as she walked across the room towards me.She looked at the framed photo I was holding."That's my boss Zachary Evans and that's his Grandmother. He's a fine piece of ass.. Everyone thinks so"

He bowed in the direction where Morrigan went before walking towards the opposite direction of the princess, towards the slums of the kingdom. Morrigan hissed when Lydia pressed on her wounds from the whip, forcing the blood out of the wound and cleaning it. "It hurts!" Morrigan exclaimed. "Then why did you help that slave?" Lydia asked her, Morrigan looked out of the window from the inn they were staying in. The memory of the young man crouched on the ground with countless lashes of a whip on his skin that slowly tore it off from his flesh came back to her mind. Those glaring eyes resembled the eyes of a tiger with the determination to fight and live. "If I didn't save him, he will die," Mo

“Father became angry because I lacked the warrior spirit. But, hey, I told him, not all men survive with shield and armor. Some destiny survives the brunt of hardship without spears, bows or arrow. Here, 56 solid moons and I proved him wrong. It appears my words were right after all. Look at me, the richest farmer in the whole land of Dota. Who could have guessed? Now, I can buy warriors and weapons if it pleases me. Armies, swords, bows carved from the hands of the finest blacksmith.” Mbakwe paid no mind. He swallowed as the longing in his eyes, followed the man’s arm, which reached for the wineskin. The Man uncorked the skin carefully and filled to the brim, the cup made from a cow horn. H

It was a masterpiece of a facade, a beautiful, polished veneer that hid the rot beneath. Outwardly, he was all pleasant smiles and cultured decency. But inwardly, he was a kingdom of chaos, a man who found joy in the symphony of another's breaking point. The man who could tenderly kiss a woman and extract a man's teeth with the same detached satisfaction one might feel pruning a rose bush. Regan slid into the driver's seat, letting the engine roar to life with a turn of the key. As he pulled away from the warehouse, he glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Unarmed. Dressed in the filthy tunic of a castle cook. He says he’s carrying a private 'relic' that belongs only to our Alpha." I leaned back against the rough wooden chair, my spine protesting with every inch of movement. I pulled the leather mask back over my face. The inside still smelled faintly of copper and sweat, pressing cold against my skin. "Bring him in." The man who walked in was Old Miller. I remembered him. In that gray, suffocating fortress, he was the only one who didn't go out of his way to spill hot broth on my hands during rations. He stood there hunched, clutching his cap with gnarled hands, his eyes glued to the dirt floor.

"I didn't realize that you'd just take the first person who walked into town today, father." The man whom John Crowe hadn't snapped his neck was already on his feet. His body was stained with his own blood. Lucas Miller ignored him. "Stay away from him if you know what is best for you," Lucas warned her and turned to leave. She watched her brother then went back to where she had been standing. It was under the awning of a library. The man who stood beside her was Michael Smith but everyone called him Old Mickey because of his age. Old Mickey was busy reading a book and smoking his pipe.