Short Stories Coming Of Age の小説・ストーリー

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?”

They had wanted a boy, had planned for a boy, bought for a boy and what did they end up with? An embarrassment if their tales were to be believed. I had always been on the larger side, struggling to control my weight ever since I was a child. It was all too easy to steal into the packhouse kitchen in the dead of the night. The chef there took a liking to me, telling me her stories of a childhood abroad as I ate all the snacks and then some. I laughed along with her as she told me her life and imagined a world far away from the Hell I was living

I was definitely putting the cart before the horse. As soon as I dropped Charlie off at Middle School Wednesday morning I headed home. My heart was already beating a little faster thinking about lunchtime. Sandy was coming over! I'll admit I didn't get a lot done on what I was working on, although it was definitely better than that horrid manual had been. This was an anthology of short stories from an independent publishing house that I'd worked for before, with all the authors under twenty-four years old. The clock seemingly was moving at a glacial pace, but eventually my phone chimed.

The words flowed more easily, the sentences grew longer, the stories unfolded. She wrote about her childhood, about the small town she grew up in, about the warmth of her grandmother's embrace and the quiet wisdom of her grandfather's gaze. She wrote about her dreams, her aspirations, her fears, and her hopes. She wrote about the city that had become her home, its vibrant energy and its hidden corners, its bustling streets and its quiet sanctuaries.

Clover’s POV Ever since I hit my puberty I have always dreamt of having sex with my sister even though she was nine years older than me . 10 years Ago: One summer afternoon, the sun was shining brightly in the sky. I was supposed to be at my swimming club at this time and mom was out shopping and dad at work . I forgot my swimming glasses and swimsuit at home. So I had to go back home to get them. *** When I arrived at home I heard some weird noises coming from my sister's room and went to check it. The door was slightly ajar and what I saw shook me to the core.

I was laughing—barefoot, covered in dirt, holding a cracked pot we were trying to mend together. I looked alive. Whole. Like someone beginning again. And maybe that’s what this place was. Not a refuge. A rebirth. River – POV She handed me a story. Not long. Just two pages. Folded three times and creased like she’d been holding it for days. “Can I read it aloud?” she asked. We were in the sunroom. Morning light poured in like applause. “Of course,” I said. She read. It was about a girl born in the middle of a question.

Such as, Randell, the oldest, had the sexiest smile that could make girls drop their damp panties if he so much as looked their way; Lance had an ass you could bounce quarters from and looked moving-violation fine in a pair of boardshorts; and sweet Kingsley had a perverted side to him that totally appealed to my inner bad girl. It was right after my eighteenth birthday that I decided I’d waited long enough for the boys to notice what was twitching right beneath their noses. My opportunity was almost gift-wrapped and handed to me with a bright shiny bow when my parents decided to go away for the weekend, leaving my brothers in charge.

I helped care for them until they passed away when I was seventeen. I've never understood why so many bunny parents toss their children aside. I did have a few run-ins with some questionable characters that I'd rather not think about. When I met the Biker Bunnies, I finally felt like I was part of something I believed in. I graduated from nursing school a few months ago, just after my twenty-second birthday. Taking care of people is what we all love to do, in addition to riding our bikes.

I patted Chloe’s icy hands and ruffled the pale hair of the hungry little boy. “Let me tell you all a story. Back when I was still living in the village like a regular person…” I started my tale. I told them about the freezing winters in my small village, the cozy warmth of my little house, the big barrels of pickled vegetables, the lively feasts during the New Year, and the daily gossip of neighbors… I even talked about how I scrimped and saved to send my adopted boy to school, watched him get married, and dreamed of holding my grandkids someday…