Poetic Nicknames Novels & Stories

I silently remarked. And honestly, Dogman’s nickname was pretty catchy. Maybe I should give myself a nickname too. “Queen Kate”? Cold, sharp, and all business. Yeah. I think it suits me just fine.

I plucked the name out of thin air, possibly because of another movie I’d watched with Mom. “Bad luck. I would have allowed Algonquian. Her people were the Powhatan.” “If you say so,” I sulked. “It says here that Pocahontas was a nickname, meaning ‘playful’. That’s apt. Three strikes and you’re out.” He wasn’t making any sense now, though I got the baseball reference. Unless there was another, hidden meaning. Then he told me to take off my skirt. I understood that all right. This was it: playtime.

I mean, it’s considered lucky for an African—according to him. My father nicknamed me Little Rose. But, my uncle insisted on calling me in a much more unique way. He said that I should have a moniker that would let every head turn around as soon as I have been called. It was Christmas and I was wearing a bloody red dress that day. My father, my uncle, and our neighbor Thalia Turner unintentionally called me Little Bloody. But, out of nowhere, my uncle called me Bloody Rosie. My uncle Onai nicknamed me eventually as Blood Rose and eventually people know me by that nickname, instead of calling me by my birth name. I don’t know but I kind of like that people call me Blood Rose instead of my rea

‎ ‎And that nickname ‎that awful, forgotten nickname ‎slammed into me like a truck. ‎Before I could speak ‎ ‎A gunshot shattered the night. ‎ ‎Everything went dark. ‎

“Oh… Oh, Nicky--” “Nico,” I rasp. “The people who really get close to me… If you want to use a nickname, call me Nico, alright? Nicky was just some stupid kid…” “Hey… Hey Nicky.” And James was the last person to ever fucking call me that. “Nico,” she tries on. And fuck, that feels wrong. It is creepy as fuck hearing that name coming out from these lips in that breathy, feminine voice.

He said, laughing. “Yes, that’s what they call me. You know, it has its own secret code. When I put ‘Ginger’ at the end of a letter, it means I’m safe. If I put ‘Gianna’, they’ll know I ain’t safe. But I never got to use it, actually.” “So… since it’s your nickname, shall I call you ‘Ginger’?” “Noooo!!! I don’t want you to call me by that. Only my friends are allowed for that.” Gianna screamed.

His laugh rumbled through his chest, warm and deep enough to make my stomach do something embarrassing. Once we reached the other side, he finally set me down. We spent the next hour wandering through the forest. At some point he started teaching me random Lycan words that I immediately forgot. Then somehow that turned into an argument about nicknames. "Casp." He stopped walking. Slowly. Very slowly. Then he turned toward me. "Casp?" I shrugged. "It's shorter." "Casp." "Yes." "That's your nickname for me?" "Do you hate it?" He stared at me for several seconds. Then he sighed dramatically. "I imagined something better." "Such as?" He started counting on his fingers. "Handsome. Magnificent. Br

Gracie was just right in-front of me, I needed to clear my head. “Bitch, you’re going to act like you didn’t see me?” “Not today, Satan.” “Satan insists.” “I resist,” “I…bitch what’s another word that has the sist?” “Desist?” “I desist?” “Fool. Little wonder your parents named you Cassava.” I breathed deeply, maybe I should’ve just replied my emails. “It’s Ca-ssa-fucking-no-va!” “Of course.” “There’s no point in correcting someone who already knows they’re wrong,” the long mouthed Nick chipped in.

"Well, it's not as funny just sayin' your name normally, so I always try and think of a new way to say it on the spot!" "I see...do you have any nicknames for yourself?" I questioned, feeling it was unfair for her to have all sorts of nicknames for me, but none for herself. "Nah, I never think of jokes for myself, but if ya can think of anything, you can run it by me!" She responded, excited at the idea of a nickname. "Hm… how about Pop? Popster? Poppers? Popgoes? Poo-" "Ok, Jesus stop, those are all cringe." Poppy responded, disgusted at the horrible ideas. I laughed in response at my own stupid nickanmes for her.

the earlier whispering was replaced with their normal voices and I listened attentively, “Mr. Calmar doesn’t show off. He is probably hiding in an open spot, waiting for us to catch him and deal with him.” “Then, do you think it is Cockeye?” Eduardo made a tsk sound. “Cockeye is a pussy. I would be surprised if this is his doing.” What kind of name is Cockeye? That’s a weird gangster’s name. But then, from the movies I have watched, I think gangsters are meant to have funny nicknames like Pencilgun or Dickmachine. I wonder if Alessandro has a nickname. I am sure it will have the word ‘death’ or ‘evil’ in it. Who knows, maybe his nickname is Evil Lord.