Realistic Novels & Stories

I can see the wheels turning in her pretty little head. “I accept the offer for being Crazy’s photographer. I am also willing to help with any graphic designs or art that is needed.” She answers. “Ok, I can respect that. I will have a contract written up for the other two offers. I need official paperwork.” I reply.

Rachel “Jayce, are you going to tell me where the heck has been driving us for a long time?” I sighed, resting my head on the headrest. “Calm down and just relax,” Jayce said, giving me a small smile before turning his focus to the road. “It’s been one hour,” I complained. “No, to mention this place looks pretty damn scary,” “It’s not scary, it’s calming.” I scanned his face, only to find him smiling. “Calming yeah, more like horrifying,”

“Crystal.” I exhaled, steadying myself. “Rule Four: One hundred and eighty days. Six months is enough to sell the story, not enough for it to rot. After that, we stage the breakup. Irreconcilable differences. Mutual respect. Everyone walks away with their reputations intact.” He pushed off the sofa and stepped closer, his presence filling the room in that maddening way it always did. “You’ve thought this through.” “This is what I do,” I said, chin high. “I build stories people believe. And for the next six months, we are going to be just another story.”

That's how I felt, like I'd been floating on the highs of my daydreams and suddenly yanked back down into reality. I couldn't believe I had been naive enough to believe that Cain had liked me. It was a hasty assumption that I made based on one action he'd later admitted that he regretted making. I couldn't believe that Zak was right. I shouldn't have followed those men in the car that night and I never should have left my home and family to chase ghosts. It'd gotten me nothing but a concussion and false hopes. There was only one reason that I still sat in Cain's dark bedroom on the couch staring into the fire. That was to assure myself that I wasn't lousy enough to bail on something just bec

he rasped, each word dripping with the primal force clawing its way to the surface. The first snap of bone echoed like a gunshot. His arm twisted unnaturally as it stretched, muscles knotting and tearing only to rebuild themselves thicker, stronger. Another crack followed as his shoulders broadened, his body lengthening with each agonizing jolt. The chains groaned, then screamed under the mounting pressure. His breaths became raw and animalistic, each one dragging him further into a place where thought ceased and instinct reigned.

Melissa pressed. Her exaggerated tone amused me, but I deliberately put on a serious face. "Hero? I think you're just trying to take advantage of me," I said. She pretended to think for a moment, then said with mock seriousness, "Let me see… How about you cook me one meal every day until school starts?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Dream on. Besides, my cooking is pretty mediocre, you know." Melissa looked at me with a grin. "That's fine. I'm not picky. Plus, even if your food tastes terrible, I'll eat every last bite."

This is free, this is unjustified and it has to end, but NOW! I notice how time seems to slow down and I see everything as if in slow motion. I hear my mother screams from afar ISABELLA!!!! A brown wolf runs right at my neck. I raise my paw, with a lost look and I wish to break his neck, like someone breaking a dry branch, to which my wish is translated as reality. I notice that I can manipulate the elements at will. The anger I feel materializes in the weather. Gray clouds threaten our heads with desires for a storm and I long for the hurricane winds to wash away all the destruction that my eyes observe. The fire begins to settle, while the rain dances over our heads.

he asked, his voice as cold as ice, "Why hasn't she come to yet?" Unnerved by that piercing glare, the doctor hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Medically, there's nothing wrong with her. If I had to guess, well… it could be an emotional response? Or perhaps she's just… taking a nap?" "Taking a nap?" Joseph echoed derisively, clearly annoyed. "Are you saying she's faking it?" Sensing danger, the doctor waved both hands nervously. "No, no, no! I'm not suggesting anything of the sort! It's just that, as far as conventional medical knowledge goes… there's nothing at all wrong with Miss Charlotte Lane."

Dean thought, of course it's good to do charity, but it's better to teach them how to fish instead of giving fish away. Charity like giving fish can only solve the immediate problem, but the underlying problem still exists. Doesn't solve anything. If Daisy knew Dean's thoughts, she said; “too many reasons. If don’t want to give whoever anything, don’t say any words, let the air be fresh.” Because people like to analyze, give a lot of reasons, and never do any practical actions.

he ordered with total conviction. The weight of his hands felt like a brand burning through her cotton pajamas and sinking into her bones. She realized he was talking about parading their fake intimacy in front of the most vicious cameras and critics the world had to offer. "You want us to put on a show for the press before the sun even rises," Maren deduced, her pulse racing with fear.