Novel & Cerita Plot Stories

Seeing that she would not give up from siding the night roamer, he decides to tell her a story to compliment her belief. “You know, according to our popular children stories, some believe he is a handsome prince from a far away kingdom made of gold, and enchantment and magic. While others believes he is a demon that haunts evildoers and people of little conscience until they give up their evil ways, or pay for their sins with blood” He narrates, captivating her attention. “Tell me more please?” She pleads with irresistible eyes. “You are in luck, as I am a lover of myth!” he gestures towards a dry piece of log just opposite them.

I'll just call him when he have time tomorrow. [ Why don't y- ] [Hey, why don't you share some stories?] [Stories? I'm not really familiar with stories, I also don't read always so I can't] [ I see, then, why don't you tell me some stories about yourself? It's better to listen than those fairy tales. ]

I said, small. "Great," Dr. Hartman said and pressed a second star on my sweater. "Two today. You're being brave." Miss Vivienne's smile folded the air. "Do-Over Stories help us make better memories," she whispered. "When you tell them, they get stronger." After a while, the stories became like a repeated song. Miss Vivienne would tell one version and then ask me to say it back three times. Each time I said it, Dr. Hartman stuck another star. My hands got sticky with the shine and my chest felt both full and empty.

he asked, disappointment laced in his tone. “Tell me a story,” she said, watching as his expression shifted from disappointment to confusion. “A story?” he muttered. “What kind of story?” “Don’t you know what a story is? Bedtime stories, novels, memoirs, biographies—things like that.” “Is that a joke?” he laughed. “Your lifestyle is so boring. How does a story entertain anybody? Horror, thrillers, silly romance, history—blah, blah, blah. It’s a waste of time.”

I replied and she smiled again. "No one would ever believe us or our story. That you married me forcefully. We look more romantic than the couples who have done love marriages." She said and giggled. I chuckled hearing her. She was right. No one would ever believe us. Not our future kids and grandkids. No one would believe our Stupid Love Story.

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

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.

“When you tell a story you are setting a contract with your audience. You don’t say to them ‘Let me tell you something that happened in real life,’ you say, ‘Let me tell you a story.’ People look to stories to give them the things that real life doesn’t.” “Such as?” “In real life your problems are rarely resolved, you don’t get closure on the situations or relationships that have most impact on your life. Your father never explains why he didn’t say how proud you made him. Your ex-wife never apologies for cheating on you repeatedly. Bad people aren’t punished for their crimes and good people go unrewarded for their virtue. We look to stories to give us the closure and the resolution we so de

Contact you later. I lay alone on the cold floor, my hair messy, my pajamas dusted. I felt a little helpless, but more than anything, I wanted to get out on my own. I did not want to trouble anyone, let alone let strangers enter my bedroom. So I began to adjust my position calmly: first relax my shoulder and back muscles, tuck my arms to my chest to reduce the space my body took up, then slowly support the floor with my elbows and shift my center of gravity back little by little.

“Well… They just wanted to know.” My lips widened. “Then come closer.” I filled his head with stories that were both true and not, exaggerating my first meeting with Jay. He gobbled everything, eyes wide, gasping when it called for it, and smiling when he felt it was cute. I didn't know I was such a wonderful storyteller until I started spinning the lies. “Wow. I bet they would shed tears just listening to your story,” he said when I was done with my lies disguised as the truth.