Public Story Novels & Stories

END. Couldn't think of a perfect way to end this, anyway __ all in all, we have come to the end of our story , if you haven't said anything since we started , come on, this is your chance, please say something, anything, whatever , just anything you think about it... thanks for reading, don't forget to vote and thanks in advance for your feedback❤

“I won’t tell your wife, Mr. President. Or anyone. If you sue me, your wife will know about this and she will suspect you two, and there is a high possibility that you and Mr. Morgan will never see each other in bed again. Do you want that?” I gritted my teeth and my hold on my cup tightened. Fuck this woman. I imagine knocking her down to silence her... but I’m not a murderer. “Don’t worry, Mr. President. I won’t tell anybody about this. In one condition.” I stared at her eyes. “What is it?” I asked, controlled and irritated.

"Then, one day, I was cleaning up his study and accidentally knocked over a wooden sculpture on his desk. He shoved me away and told me I wasn't allowed in there anymore. That was when I noticed the name 'Beatrice' carved into the base." By the time I finished, I couldn't stop crying. All these years, I never dared tell my parents any of it. I didn't want to worry them, and more than that, I was afraid they'd tell me to leave Declan. After all, I was the one who had shamelessly pursued him back then. And now, here I was, pouring my heart out to them about the same man. Wasn't that just proving them right all along? After listening to my story, my parents fell silent.

Her words flowed effortlessly, painting a new story—the story of Theo and Mama Hazel, of nighttime adventures and endless dreams, of love that knew no bounds and a bond that transcended the ordinary. As she penned the final lines of the story, a sense of peace settled within Mama Hazel. The power of storytelling had once again worked its magic, not only in Theo's dreams but also in her own heart, reaffirming the timeless truth that the greatest stories are those written with love, shared with joy, and woven into the fabric of our lives.

“Well, please do tell me the great news, Emma. What’s this unexpected thing that happened at work? I’m dying to know” “Okay, so it was a regular day, right, I’ve just come back from vacation, and I’m catching up with my co-worker, and all of a sudden she tells me that the boss, Mr. Williamson is in, and he’s not in a good mood, so I should try and avoid doing anything to piss him off. Better still, I should just avoid him in general, right?” “Mhm. I get that. So what happened next?”

And that was our story. *** THE END ***

She realized that stories had the ability to transcend language and cultural barriers, touching the hearts of people from all walks of life. With this newfound insight, Luna embarked on a project to collect and share stories from individuals in Seoul. She sought out locals, immigrants, and travelers alike, listening to their personal narratives and experiences. These stories ranged from tales of triumph and resilience to accounts of cultural traditions and the bonds forged through shared humanity.

I smile at my daughter and say, “Over medium, please.” Then she looks at Gabriel, fighting a smile. “Can you eat better than you can dance?” The girls erupt into laughter, and Gabriel holds his hands up in defeat. “Look at it this way, ladies: I gave you a great story.” Britanya looks between me and Gabriel and winks. “Doesn’t seem like the story’s over.”

Back then, I told myself they were just like family, so there was no need to get jealous. However, all those little signs I had ignored played back in my head, over and over. When she came back, we launched our design studio. I landed a whale of a client, a deal that put us on the map overnight. On the night of our big bash, I had one too many and wanted her to pick me up. I called over and over, but got nothing. Finally, a coworker ended up driving me home. The morning after, she came to me with puffy, red eyes, spilling the story of how Yoel was heartbroken, how he had drowned his sorrows in booze at the bar, and how she had stayed with him through the night.

And that is a story that will last forever. END OF BOOK