My Little Poplar Novels & Stories

Ophelia sat cross legged on his pristine white couch, his shirt hanging off her shoulders, her bare breasts peeking out. He handed her a hot chocolate, sitting beside her. She smiled, taking it from him thankfully. She blew on it. She heard a click, looking up. Adrian shook out the picture, the image of her appearing. "A Polaroid? I haven't seen one of those in forever." She remarked. He stared down at the photo. "I bought one last night. I was thinking...you look like you would be in an old Polaroid picture, laughing. No one would know who you are, just that you were beautiful."

Pinning her to the table, he trailed rough kisses on her skin with his lips. “You asked for this, Mi amor. I will ruin you till you don't feel your legs..” He whispered in her ears. A smirk formed on her lips as she challenged him. “Ruin me, daddy. That's exactly what I want..” He smirked and slapped her ass, causing her to shiver. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” ********************* As the church members filed out of the dimly lit Catholic church, the warm sunlight spilled across the steps, illuminating the vibrant flowers and lush greenery surrounding the building.

So I keep walking without a destination. I stop by the fountain. The moon stands full in the sky, its reflection sparkling in the water. I sit and stare at its reflection. “You are so pretty.” “Oh my, I almost thought I saw an angel.” Startled, I jump up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” I turn around and stare at the pretty face in front of me. “Hello, Little Miss.” He smiles. “It’s you.” “Yes, it’s I.” He walks closer, closing the distance between us. A strand of hair escapes my tight high ponytail. He picks it up and rolls it on his finger.

I learned where sound traveled and where it died in the stone, where my breaths could hide among the rafters and where they would shout like trumpets. At first my plotting felt like childish rebellion—a small, defiant thing against a house that had become a tomb. But repetition turned it into something steadier, a map of possibilities sketched in the margins of my days. In the morning, I performed the role they forced on me: ate the bitter tea, chewed the mint until my mouth bled, kept my face composed, answered only when spoken to. Then I waited until the shadows lengthened and I could move. The small things mattered most. I began with scraps.

Even though he was older than Pops, he still looked strong and healthy. Pops took out a small gun and pointed it at his head. “Don't call me brother, idiot!“ He said. “Today, I'm going to kill you. It may not fully pay for what you did to me, but it will make me feel better.” Gregory looked back at him without any fear. He was even pushing. “You are weak, Little Brother. Your family was, too. I helped you get rid of them,” he said. “Shut up!” Pops shouted and kicked him in the belly.

“Dear Dove I already have you” He patted my legs open like a pregnant lady with both hands. Then moved his body in a precise way.

He pulled his phone out, and his large, scarred face had softened, his lips shifting from their grimace into a warm smile. “Look,” he’d said, his eyes melting at the corners. “This one, the eldest girl there, she’s my Poppy. We named her that because my mate and I were brought poppies as a baby shower gift, and we decided that it was just perfect. We live in a little cottage, down by the woods, and we have a small garden. We make sure the garden is always full of poppies.” I felt my eyes pricking with tears, but Bloodlust gave me no time to respond before he was showing me his next daughter.

The doll came with a built-in recorder. When she played the tape inside, she heard a voice that sounded drearily familiar. "Wow, you got a doll for me, Mommy! I’m going to sleep with this doll every night. I love you, Mommy!" She felt like she was reliving the pain again. Every word struck her with the force of a sledgehammer. The tears she had been suppressing all this time burst out in an instant! She hugged the doll tightly and curled up on the bed, desperate to feel the slightest trace of Anya’s warmth.

Here he is - a witness to the rites of the flock. I carefully ran my hand over the old bark. It was very hot and sunny, but under the poplar branches it was as if its own microclimate reigned. Perhaps, and indeed, this is not an ordinary tree. - Why are we here? I asked Reed. The poplar was so big that it completely hid Reed from me. I went around the trunk. - I convinced Ba not to arrange a circus then, but we must perform one ceremony with you.

The three kids sat like Rodin’s famous Thinker. “Doesn't this dry poplar have the root at least as deep as the crown height ...? Or am I wrong?” Johnny asked, hoping that this time he misunderstood or didn’t memorize correctly one of the lessons he studied at Mrs. Harmony's classes. But Elizabeth's approving gaze that he was right, frightened him. Why was he right at that moment? “But, the poplars outside are over 100 cubits high. And then the tip of the roots is at ... 100 cubits in the ground?”