Moveable Feast Novels & Stories

So on Tuesday morning, I went to my math teacher and asked him for some extra work to do so I could practice the formulas. On Wednesday, I spent after school in Ms. Wilson's office hours. She was one of the rare teachers that actually offered extra hours after school, and she loves it when students attended. She says that it shows they're committed. So for the hour and a half that I usually spend hanging out with my friends, I sat and analyzed A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway for the nth time. In a metaphoric extension, the term a movable feast was used to represent a place that one has experienced and continues to hold with them for the rest of life. In a

Marvelled, Mel finished the meal in a matter of minutes and had one more serving of the delicious meal before she was fully satisfied. “I…I have no words,” she breathed at the end of the meal. “I have never tasted something this good in such a long time!” She shifted, placing the bowl on the grass beside her. The women beamed. “We’re glad you enjoyed this, my lady,” Nora, a young woman spoke up, the excitement evident in her tone. “Thank you, really,” Mel insisted, her hands coming to rest on her slightly bulging stomach. “I hope to have more of this when we return to the settlement.”

The Academy never sleeps. Misha walks beside me, her limp more noticeable now that the run is done, but her eyes are bright as she scans the buffet like it might disappear if she blinks too long. We grab plates from the stack. The ceramic feels solid in my hands. I move down the line, scooping food without hesitation. Scrambled eggs. Bread. Something that looks like potatoes. I do not overthink it. Food is fuel. Food is comfort. Food is not something I waste time being polite about.

My name was Rachel Summers. The gaming company that I founded, Cosmo Network & Tech, was well-known amongst the people in the industry for being the "dream company" to work at, simply because of our generous employee benefits. They were exceptionally envious of the free lunch buffet program that I had insisted on for every employee in the company, amounting to 100 dollars per head per day, in collaboration with a five-star hotel in the center of the city. Every day at lunch time, the admin department would wheel in carts of the catered dishes through the office floor, smelling absolutely heavenly.

At the sight of everyone seated, the maids stepped forward in smooth, practiced lines—silent as moonlight, but swift, efficient. Each maid knowing her place, her duty, her timing. They bowed their heads in respect to the Spiritfang first, then the Alpha and everyone else. My eyes drift over to Raven again, and the shock was evident on her face. The amount of food placed on the table always surprised me and I had been here for years and this was her first time seeing it. I found myself smiling at the look on her face. Trays of roasted meats—boar glazed with dark honey—were placed first. It was tradition: protein at the heart of every feast, honoring strength.

Claudius glared at Miguel even more. "I was starving, I could eat a whole cow. I hope you prepared a feast for me, Claudius?" Miguel flashed a teasing smile at my mate. "It's the least you could offer after I did the favor that you asked me years ago." "Every meal in the realm is considered a feast, but if you're craving for a particular dish that wasn't served at the buffet. You could request that from our private chef. They will accommodate any of your cravings." "Ah." Miguel clicked his tongue, "A golden luxurious life. We had reasons why we had to move out of this place before, but our days here were a blast too," Miguel reminisced.

said Daphne and held the spoon and fork. "This served as an apology for what I did to you before," retorted Maverick. "You know, I should not have remembered such, but it already happened. All I could do was apologize." "Apology accepted," said Daphne and smiled. "For the goodness you did, it didn't stop me from forgiving you." "Anyway, let's taste the food together. All foods rated five stars, especially their specialty Creamy Chicken Roulade," explained Maverick and held the plate with the recipe he had mentioned.

Men—shirtless, some muscular enough to make me momentarily forget Edric was sitting two inches away—danced beside bagpipe players. It was a whole festival. Free food trucks with signs like “Steak for the Queen!” and “Luna's Lemon Pies” rolled through the cobbled roads. Roasted boar on spits, giant cauldrons of creamy potato stew, baked bread with honey-butter. And coffee—oh gods, the coffee. Rich. Smoky. With a punch that could make an immortal cry. “Is that… bagpipes?” I blinked. “Welcome to Red Valley,” Edric chuckled, as our convoy stopped in front of a mansion that could’ve hosted an entire opera.

If that be the case, then what can I do? We can’t allow them to get ahead of us. Let’s plan to escape as soon as possible. “Yes,” I agreed with Moonrose. “We need to have a ready plan of escape in case they move funny. Everything seems too good to be true.” Yet I dug into the meal, starting with the rice. After eating a few spoons, I moved to the garlic bread. It was soft, and pairing it with gravy sauce was like heaven. “Mmm,” I moaned aloud.

she was already getting up to leave, “I’ll send a driver to pick you up when I’m done at the event.” I didn’t even get a word in before she blew me a kiss and strutted out. *** “Don’t you like the steak? You’ve barely eaten a bite,” Maeve’s eyes shone with curiosity as she watched me eat. We’d arrived over an hour ago and she’d practically stuffed me with a thousand meals from different cultural cuisines while she religiously sipped only lemon water because she was on a diet. “I’m sure it’s really tasty, I’m just filled to the brim,” I patted my tummy tiredly.