Small Stories Novels & Stories

Shayla resisted longer, peppering me with last-minute questions about whether clouds slept and if frogs had birthdays. Lucas waited until the others were settled before speaking quietly. “Can you tell a story?” Something in his tone—hopeful, vulnerable—unlocked a memory deep inside me. “My mother used to tell me stories,” I said softly. “Would you like one of those?” Three heads nodded eagerly. So I began. I told them about the moon that fell in love with the sea but could never touch it, about the brave girl who taught the stars how to sing, about the fox who tricked winter into leaving early.

She was right on the precipice, the world shrinking down to the heat of Claire’s tongue, the friction, the desperate, unholy connection… Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic knock-knock-knock echoed through the room, cutting through the haze like a guillotine. Colette froze, her body seizing as the interruption hit her. Claire paused, her breath hitching, looking up with wide, terrified eyes. A voice sounded from the other side of the door, muffled but perfectly audible. "Reverend Mother, there's an urgent matter with St. Rita's orphanage. There's a problem with the donations.”

and I intended to keep it that way until I died. "Fine," I said. "Just stuck on something." "She's very stuck," Dane said, not even looking up from his plate, twirling pasta . "Real technical difficulties." I kicked him under the table. He didn't flinch. "You writing anything good?" Xavi asked, oblivious, reaching for the parmesan. "It's fine," I said again, too fast. I loved how he cared for me since our parents were always soo busy with work coming back late "It's dry," Dane said. "That's the technical term, I believe."

THIS NOVEL WILL SERVE AS A BONUS FOR THOSE WHO WANT IT... IT IS LIKE A PERSONAL STORY ON IT'S OWN AND IT'LL BE LONGER THAN THE REST, THANKS. don't be confused, the numbers in the chapter title in the bracket are the total chapters of this novel altogether, the ones before the bracket is the amount of chapters of the current story you're reading...thanks loves, enjoy! TITLE- SWEET SINS OF BELLA BLURB

The girl who didn’t say no. I got tired of hearing it. Tired of waking up sticky and sore and already thinking about the next time someone would tell me to open my mouth. So I left. New city. New apartment that still smelled like paint. New name on the application because the old one felt like it belonged to the version of me who dropped to her knees the second a hand touched her head. Sienna. Quiet. Employable. Far enough away that no one would walk into a bar and already know what I tasted like.

I learned that the first night. I started keeping a notebook. Not fancy. Just a cheap composition book from the drugstore. Times. Places. What she wore. How long the shower ran in the mornings. The sound of her laughing once through an open window when some guy was over. That one I wrote down twice and then crossed out hard enough the page tore. I told myself it was just curiosity. That it would burn out. It didn’t.

The small shortbread is the kind of small shortbread the woman the small shortbread is the small shortbread of made on the night before the night before the day the woman the small shortbread is the small shortbread of married the man the small shortbread is the small shortbread of. There is one more small thing on the small silver tray. The small thing is small. The small thing is the kind of small thing that is on small silver trays at benches in small parks on hills in Los Angeles on Saturdays in November in Los Angeles when the small things are the kind of small things the women the small things are the small things of are the kind of women who are the kind of women the small things the

Alain casually sat down on one of the sofas, but René had a moment of disgust before sitting next to the young student. Brielle was living in a humble place. The place was small with minimum furniture. It was just a standard flat with a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. There was nothing special, and it seemed that the owner of the place didn’t want to make her place special either. “So...” Brielle sat on the sofa opposite the two guests. “Mr. Huang came here to see me? Mr. Huang is so nice. I’m just a poor student, but Mr. Huang is willing to visit me.”

That sounds great. After we bought groceries, we walked to his house, but it wasn't like anything I expected. It was a small apartment that looked a little run-down. When we got inside, it was cramped. It wasn't like our house, but it somehow felt comfier. Is this why he was thinking so hard if he should make beef stew or something? "Sorry for our house." Al said as he placed the groceries down in the kitchen. "It's just my mom and I, so we can't really afford anything fancier than this."

She likes it when he is rough on her. Rome's gaze was drawn to her clothes when their lips separated again. He yanked her clothing down quickly, although it was clear that he was trying hard not to rip it. Rome was impatient, so she anticipated him to ruin her clothes, as he always did when they made love. Fortunately, Rome appeared to have known she had no spare garments in case he wrecked her clothes. After removing her garments, Rome claimed her lips again while his two palms fondled her breasts. Then Rome kissed her on the neck from her lips. He kissed, lapped, and sucked every part of her neck that would leave a mark, and Channy's breathing sped when Rome's fingers began to play with he