Nine Stories Novels & Stories

The movie was scary to fawaz, he wasn't familiar with such big fishes. The movie ended in two hours , nafisa and fawaz were already sleeping. Khadija sigh before joining them. They woke up around four in the evening, prayed and they sat talking. "Naffy, it is getting late. Let me get going " Khadija said to nafisa . "Okay"She replied and run off to her room. She got chocolate cake, and chocolate biscuits for fawaz, then Khadija's favorite square veil. The house felt empty, just like her an empty soul when her husband left her. she flipped through the cartoon channel , sighing heavily. She missed her husband.

The extended family dinner at the sprawling suburban house in suburban Chicago was hitting its fourth hour. Thanksgiving leftovers were being reheated, football highlights blared from the living-room TV, kids chased each other through the hallway, and the adults were deep into their third round of wine and stories about “the old days.” The dining table was still crowded with half-empty casserole dishes, cranberry sauce stains, and crumpled napkins.

The next story Laura Figures. The night I drag myself here, Fantasies is suffocating with bodies. The one night I need release after a week from hell, the place is pulsing with noise and sweat. Everywhere I turn, heat and perfume press in, laughter cutting through the bass. It is not just crowded; it is overwhelming—the kind of crush that makes me wonder if I have lost my mind thinking this is the cure for burnout.

(Dahlia POV) “Dahlia…” “Yes?” I open the stove. Put the pan on fire and the oil is starting to heat that makes a sizzling sound. “The story that I tell you is not fiction.” I smiled at what I heard. “If a writer is as invested as you are in her story, she’ll surely get a lot of readers. Can you narrate it again Grandma? I almost feel like believing in your old story.” “Tss. I’m not joking around. I’m warning you.”

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.

His steward stepped inside carrying correspondence. “Letters from London, my lord.” Edwin took them without interest. “Anything important?” The older man hesitated. “Rumors are spreading again.” Of course, there were. Edwin broke the seal of the first letter calmly. “What rumors this time?” “That you have become… involved with Lady Arabella.” Edwin’s jaw tightened instantly. Already. Craneford was small enough that even shared glances became gossip eventually. And Edwin knew precisely how cruel society could become once the scandal began.

💦The First Night 💦 I never meant to become addicted. It started innocently enough, or at least that’s what I told myself. My name is Mia, 24 years old, living alone in a small but cozy apartment in Chicago. I worked from home as a freelance graphic designer, which meant long hours at my desk with headphones on. But one night, three weeks after I moved in, I forgot to wear them. That was the night everything changed. It was a Thursday, around 11:40 PM. I was lying in bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, scrolling through my phone, when I heard it for the first time.

“Do you think that he wants to die? He loves his life just like you love money and it is just circumstance that made him not to be able to meet up with the deadlines we gave him.” He stopped talking and looked up to me for a response. “I get your point, Gregory and I respect you like an elder brother and a father but, you know the rules.” I straightened my shirt, heaving a sigh and waiting for his reply. “Every debt must be paid, whether by collateral or by blood. Rule number nine.” “You made the rules.” I squinted at him, standing up and going to the bar to grab a drink and a glass cup. I poured it in slowly, my eyes heavy from all the sleepless night and the Mafia meetings that have been h

Nora's POV My husband knows how to make me feel like a goddess. The diamonds on my body feels even better without the clothes, my ass is presented for him and he gets down on his knees behind me. This is the man who once told me that I wasn't his type, now he's kissing my ass like it's his goddess. The press of his lips and the heat of his breath against skin has my breath hitching. I only wanted to tease him and make him breakfast and spend time with him but the second he walked in with his shirt stained with precum.

You're welcome in advance. It was just texting. No voice. No video. The method her words settled in his chest, it felt like presence. Later in the day as he was icing his knee, he picked up the book again and noticed a scribbled note in the margin. “Some stories aren’t about escape. They’re about returning as someone new.” He didn’t know if she wrote it or if the author did. But either way, it hit. He looked at the untouched tea up until it went cold.