Scrooge Novels & Stories

Pidge knitted her eyebrows in anger. "Well, my brother loves to make an entrance..." she scoffed. "Anyways, let's get you ready. We have no time.." she referred to the beauticians. Getting a call from her best friend Winter, she answered, "Hello, Winter?" "Pidge? Are you okay? Where are you? Is Mr Dasher..." the worried voice of the friend came through the other side. "Mr Dasher is an asshole..." she blurted out making all of the beauticians stop for a moment.

But soon, she would understand the consequences of being miserly. One day, while Greta was mocking me as usual, Hilda gleefully watched on. She walked into the living room with a glass of water to keep her throat hydrated. However, her movements were cautious, and she shuffled around nervously. As she was about to sit down, I suddenly shouted, "Ah!" Startled, she plopped down onto the chair, and there was a loud popping sound. Hilda let out an ear-piercing scream. Trembling, she glanced downward and saw that her pants were completely soaked. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fainted on the spot.

Acting like his text hadn't gutted me. "Actually, I might skip the gingerbread thing. I have some work emails I need to catch up on." "Maya. No. You're not spending your vacation doing work. That's literally against the rules." Sophie grabbed my hand. "Come on. It'll be fun. And Dad makes the best gingerbread. He has this secret spice mixture that's amazing." Of course he did. Because Derek had to be perfect at everything, making it that much harder to get over whatever this was.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” I force myself to shake my head, heat creeping up my cheeks. “No, I just…” I stammer, suddenly forgetting how words work. “What do you mean, ask Santa? Who is Santa?” He chuckles, the sound deep “Santa,” he says, his grin widening, “is an Alpha who can get you anything you want. You know… just like this dress you’re wearing.”

Alan croaked out, “Who’s going to heal me if you’d died?” “I’m sorry,” I mumbled and squeezed his hand within mine. “I’m so sorry.” “You’re not forgiven.” He stubbornly replied, but it only made me smile further. “Don’t be like that,” I prompted, “Have my attempts been entirely futile?” “No,” Sniffing, he shook his head, “Douglas is in jail, as we speak.” I smiled, “You caught him.” “We did.” He said, “All thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

It might not be necessary to shift, and it will be much easier to fight if I’m not wearing a dress. As soon as I’m dressed, I step outside and immediately hear a snarl. I turn to the left and there is a brown rogue wolf stalking towards me. You can always identify the rogues because they look mangey and deranged, like a dog who’s been abused and beaten. His fur is filthy, with a few patches missing, and he smells like vulture vomit. The combination of death and decay mixed with the burning, acidic scent of vomit is the worst possible combination.

I'd been in the pack's territory for a few days now and they were still giving me the cold shoulder except for Scott. He was standing at the back of his cabin near a handmade wooden chopping board with the stone oven lit. He had a pile of cooked meat stacked on the board in front of him, shredding it apart with a fork and knife. "Hi," I said, folding my hands behind my back as I neared him. Scott was as tall as Hunt, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, looking like one of those men that lived in the mountains—which ironically he did—in his plaid shirt with those mesmerising lake blue eyes.

She walked in with the wind and caught my attention. I hid so she couldn’t see me. I knew she was here to see my father. Her mother signed her in and I caught her name, Sadie. My father doctor Joel Coleman. One of the most beloved psychiatric in Brockville. I sadly wondered what was wrong with this beautiful creature. She sat next to her mother, still looking towards the floor. “Jacob, where are you?” I heard my father holler out. Sadie turned her head slightly. I caught a flash of her blue-green eyes and then back to the floor they went. “I’m right here father,” I said as I stepped into his office. My father, a man in his fifties. Looked up from his glasses at me.

a man emerged from the shadows but he couldn't come close to me. He had brown hair with hazel eyes and a pointy nose with a scar just above his upper lip. And a really awful smell like rotten meat was coming out of him which made me scrunch my nose in disgust. I was getting bad vibes from him and I could feel my babies were also uneasy almost as if they were telling me to run away from the man

Axel: And you're sure you made no mistakes? Hyce: Do I look like a fuçking kid? Axel: That's fuçked up, and Banks kept it for this long? Hyce: Totally fuçked up, I hate that arsehole *rolling eyes emoji* Roonie: If hating me gets you coupons or free tickets, kept it up wanker. Hyce: When you die, "We lost a wicked motherfûcker" will be on your tombstone. Roonie: Add this... "He had a big dîck and used it damn well"