Short Stories To Read Novels & Stories

he adds. Can I really read these out loud?

she added without waiting for a reply. "Aunty hand bag , go and read your books. I wonder how you will pass your exams"Her mother bawled. They talked for what seems like forever before Hussain entered his mother's room. He greeted her happily. "Hussain, why didn't you tell your wife about the journey" his mother scolded him.

I also hope we get to read their stories like mine. ***************** THE END. ***************

He said and hurried to wipe his tears. "Tss. Why did you cry? You can't even remember my life. This is more like a fantasy story like you read in w*****d stories." I promise here. I don't read W*****d. Misha is the lover, I only hear about his stories. He likes to read gangster stories. Then he imagined that I was a female gangster. He has a story he wants to tell, what is the title now?... Monster High? No, that's not it... Mon... Mon... Montello High? Yeah, that's it because he has reread it several times and he still wants me to read it too like what the hell? I don't like reading that mushy stuff, and besides the stories are exaggerated too much, but Misha is an addict, or maybe I just d

Thank you for reading Ademide stories ******************************

" Alexa yawns. (Cooyright:The short story isn't mine. Copied it from a bedstories website. Please rate and comment.love yal.ADIOS.)

HA! You only get one life. Follow your dreams. NEVER APOLOGIZE for setting a goal and coming up with a plan to achieve it. I will help you. I promise. If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that we only get one. Life is short. And no matter how hard you try to soak in each day, today is the only day that’s promised. Yesterday is for memories and learning. And tomorrow is never promised. Don’t live in fear, sweet girls. Fear is a liar that will steal your joy. So live each day with love for others, love for yourself, and faith in something bigger than yourself.

“Good girl. But we’re not done yet. Mom won’t be back until tonight.” He fed me the sandwich he bought for me…. End of book 38

I'm afraid I know the answer to that. “I only borrowed two hundred thousand dollars.” Dad screams. “Interest rates are high. Didn't you read the agreement form?” If not that my life is in jeopardy, I will snort again. Dad wouldn't have read the form because he hates to bother with a book. Dad's expression falls and he slumps on the couch, looking defeated. “Get her.” The man whispers to one of the men with him. I glance around, wondering if I can make a run for it but it doesn't seem like that. I doubt I can run far from the men if I want to.

Sofia Reyes killed the engine of her rented Jeep outside the dusty warehouse on the edge of the port city, notebook crammed in her back pocket, camera slung across her chest. Six months chasing this story had taken her from quiet mountain roads to flashy nightclubs to lonely beach towns. Women vanishing. No bodies. No clear pattern at first. But the deeper she dug, the clearer it got and all of them had been restless, bored, aching for something sharper than their safe little lives.