Random Stories Novels & Stories

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The sun was hidden across the mountains, in a villa in the floral city, a traveler walked down the main street, looking for a place to spend the night, the mysterious traveler sat near a campfire, where there were people sitting around it. The traveler put his belongings next to him, then a small one approaches him, "excuse me, sir, they are 5 copper coins, they are to be entitled to the heat of the campfire, in addition to a ration of freshly prepared oatmeal," the traveler took the coins and paid the little one, the little one went with an older person and I give him the money, she gave him a tray with a plate and a glass, "sir I have" the traveler took it and continued to eat it, during h

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.

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.

"Fine by me, so what is your name?" "I am Nora. Ehm sorry to ask, why are you the only one alive? Were you the one who had killed them?" "No, my sister did that to them." Daisy said sadly. "Your sister killed all these fairies? Why?" Nora asked. "A long time ago, in the once great kingdom of Uprigralon lived two sister who ruled the kingdom, they were the only fairies dancers in the entire kingdom. They welcomed all types of fairies, Brownies, Pixies, Leprechauns, Elves, Kobolds and every kinds all lived in this wonderful kingdom.

“Here, it’s almost time for dinner.” “Thanks,” the boy replied before taking a huge bite. “Did your father ever tell you any stories concerning an old man and a foggy hill?” Rhina inquired. “Nope,” Ishida answered plainly. “How many stories about old men did he tell you?” the girl asked. “Quite a lot! Seven, if I remember correctly. ‘The Woodcutter and the Door of Fates’ was one... ‘The Old Man and the Desert of No Return’ was another. Oh yes, there were ‘The Legend of King Makarael the Great,’ ‘Hayami’s Grandfather,’ ‘Heroes of Aquarius,’ ‘Sir Kharkin of the Seven Seas,’ and ‘Aram the Master Sage.” Ishida recalled. “None of them were about a gravestone or a hill.”

I love stories a lot. Do you? Since I have been writing this diary of my life, I have been able to create wonderful stories that has touched both of us deeply. Do you agree? Now, I ask, who doesn’t love a short love story about meeting random people? Especially the very unique ways that people can get connected together without putting much efforts.

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.

It was coming from her—my stepmom Sarah—and him—my stepbrother Jake. I lounged on the big sectional couch in the living room, legs stretched out, my nipples already hardening against the thin white fabric of my tank top. No bra. I hadn’t worn one on purpose. The wine had me flushed and bold, my pussy tingling with that slow, forbidden ache I’d been ignoring for months.

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”