روايات وقصص ضمن Short Stories Coming Of Age

I'll be posting prompts for story openings based on our ongoing contests, successful outlines and designs, and if you are up for it, take it and write it out~ Come back to me with your own story and I have contracts to offer~ (well, if you already have a senior editor with GN, go to them :P ------- She's the baby her parents lost when she was switched at birth; She's the girl from the country side that the rich family took back when she was already 18 years old;

She requested answered by a brief silence. Considering it she nodded as she came up with an instant plan and said further. “Okay...okay before that...lemme tell you a story. It isn't too long but...its something very interesting and cute. So...don't say anything just listen to it carefully.” “Once there was a small kid, all alone in a small village. He had no parents with him. How they died no one knew except for the boy. He had no one whom he could hug at night he was scared of thundering and lightening. He had no one who could buy him some delicious bread. He used to cry at his fate alone each night. Then one day...an angel came into his life.”

Like I was part of something bigger than myself. "You sure?" Axel asked. "I'm sure." "The compound isn't exactly I*******m-worthy." I looked around the simple office. Concrete walls, basic furniture, the smell of leather and motor oil drifting in from the garage. "Maybe that's what I need." --- That evening, I posted my first story. A video of me sitting in what looked like a coffee shop, talking about childhood fears and small-town legends. I mentioned growing up where people believed in monsters. How that shaped your worldview.

That was all he said as he took his briefcase and made his way out of the house while I watched him leave helplessly. “I could be good for you.” I whispered in frustration and stomped my feet before clearing the table and dumping them in the sink. I spent the rest of the day as usual, stealing Nick's shirt and hiding it in my room so that I could fuck myself to it at night. When 6 PM struck, I got a text from Mom with a message that had me sighing in despair. Mom: “There's unfortunately too much work. I think I'll be home by midnight. Or in the morning. Take care baby, xoxo.”

The captain greets us with a nod and disappears below, leaving us alone. Aragorn leads me to a thick white cushions on wide loungers. A low table with chilled white wine, strawberries, a bowl of ice. He pours two glasses, hands me one. “To seeing each other,” he says. I clink. “To that.” We sit side by side, legs dangling, watching the city shrink. He tells me stories about him sneaking out at sixteen to a concert in the old quarter, getting recognized anyway because some girl screamed his name during the encore. I tell him about the time I accidentally dyed an entire batch of white roses blue because I mixed up dye packets. We laugh.

For them, CMP felt less like a market and more like a small festival that never ended. Teenagers liked it even more. They came to hang out, to sit and read the latest novels and to lose themselves in stories that were no longer the same tired tales of noble heroes going to war while weak and sorrowful women waited endlessly at home. These stories were different. The worlds were wider, the characters stranger and braver in new ways, and the imagination behind them left teenagers starstruck. There were stories for children, for youth, for adults. All these stories that made people feel seen.

I grew up in a house where I I had to rebel to get out of it,it was strictly school and back for me . I wasnt allowed to go anywhere else,because “ there are predators all around and I am too pretty to go unnoticed”. I’m 19 and I’m in college but I went to one close to my house cause they wanted to watch me grow . My life was boring up until recently I walked into the hall and took my usual front seat,I I brought out my books and looked up to the front expecting to see old miss daisy.

Noah Callahan was nineteen and still believed love happened the way it did in the books he read in secret. He lived in a small apartment above his aunt’s bakery in a quiet coastal town two hours from the city. His parents had died when he was twelve; since then it had been just him, and Aunt Mara, flour-dusted mornings, and the soft click of the register. He worked the counter, delivered bread to local cafés, studied online for a literature degree he wasn’t sure he’d ever finish.

'Where the sun doesn't shine by Marvens Jeff Bonhomme. This was a story of a tall dark girl who struggles to live in the year 1990's. Hindi gaanong maganda ang takbo ng buhay nito. She was even into drugs and all. A teardropping story that she had and blah blah blah.. I just love the part of how she'd survived from everything. At dahil sa gusto kong tapusin agad ang librong to, hindi na muna ako pumasok sa eskwela and just hid here.

“I believe in you but what’s important is do you believe in yourself?” “I do.” “That’s what matters. As long as you believe in yourself, everyone’s opinions don’t matter.” “Do you think so?” “I know so.” “I have written a lot of short stories which i haven’t shown to anyone.” “Really?” “Yes.” “I would love to read them.” “I’m excited about the new story i thought of.” “What is it about?” “It’s about the most notorious crime family in Zambia.” “That sounds interesting.” “I don’t know where the idea came from but each and every day, it grows stronger,” Ludo smiled.