Stalk Stories Novels & Stories

“It fell apart after two days.” He held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I was ten! That was my first construction project.” “And your last,” I teased. We both laughed until the girl sitting across from us gave us a curious smile. I felt heat rush to my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure why. We’d always laughed like that. It wasn’t new. And yet, it felt different here, like our bubble was more obvious to everyone else. That night, we gathered around a massive bonfire. The flames danced into the sky, throwing sparks and shadows across everyone’s faces. Counselors told ghost stories with dramatic voices, making the younger kids squeal and cling to each other.

The Bali Girls of course accepted him wholeheartedly afterwards, especially because he and their outside blocker Trish are actually an item now, but, and at Babylee’s own suggestion, he no longer joined their sleepovers. From Mrs. Lapuz, Kate had heard stories about an unspecified hometown as Kate was growing up. During bedtime storytelling, Mrs. Lapuz, who liked going all out, getting into character and changing her voice, told her tales a la Hansel and Gretel, but the grimmer and definitely scarier version because it sounded like it had been lifted from real-life superstition – or what was, in Kate’s own words, “rural legends”, because they retained distinct motifs of countryside animism.

I consoled him and gave him some water. “She locked me up in the store room” “WHAT? IN THE STOOR ROOM? HOW DID YOU COME HERE! Tell me everything.” I questioned. “I was locked inside since morning and when she opened me up, I ran and hid here. She warned me that she’ll lock me again if I told this to anyone.” I stood up and as I went forward Zac held my leg and started to cry. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to get locked please.”

She laughed and thought to herself "my weakness is teachers". -Well, I already told you my whole life story. Of course, when she told her life story she didn't include Gabriel. -Well look my life is not that interesting it is very common I have a family that does not live here my family is European I came to visit this country and I stayed here my family is a very traditionalist family they come from time to time to see me and I also go there from time to time I have two more brothers they live with my parents and I am a professor at several universities, so as you see my life is not very interesting.

He looks really stupid now. Adam put his pot on the table roughly and snorted in annoyance. Looking back at Uncle Austin. “You should throw away this useless and broken stove.” Uncle Austin looked at the maids and cooks. "Didn't you guys report the broken stove to me?" Ask uncle Austin to them.

"How did I know? Of course, I was so close to you but I didn't feel any air coming from your notrils, that's why! Haha" This guy is amazing. He sure notices even small details. When all was quiet, my stomach suddenly growled. How embarrasing. "Ohh tummy, we are near the gasoline station. Just one more block. There's a bakery near there to grab rolls and coffee." He said while touching my tummy. I felt some weird sensation with his touch. Again, we are not werewolves but still there is that sort of magical spark that they talk of when a mate touches you.

I replied and she smiled again. "No one would ever believe us or our story. That you married me forcefully. We look more romantic than the couples who have done love marriages." She said and giggled. I chuckled hearing her. She was right. No one would ever believe us. Not our future kids and grandkids. No one would believe our Stupid Love Story.

“I told you, I won’t force you.” “But we must, I mean we can’t fake the-” “We’ll mark each other. It'll be enough to sustain our story. I know how you feel about it, but the mark will fade away eventually. We'll renew it once in a while.” By the end of this talk, he was only in his underwear. A small whimper escaped my mouth causing me to slap a hand over it. His laugh filled the room. Despite the turmoil of emotions that were ravaging my mind, I couldn’t deny the fact that his body was nothing less than perfect.

And he falls silent. Waiting for my response? "That's good," I say, "because I don't want to share you either." He smiles and sits back, sipping his wine, his expression thoughtful. "Tell me about 'redbreast' and 'ravens'," he says. "I expected you to simply give me 'yellow' and 'red' or something similar. It sounds as though there is a story behind the two words." "It's from when I was a little girl," I say. "There were ravens at the bottom of our garden, and when I was small, they seemed so huge."

Don't get it wrong. Sometimes stereotypes were spot on correct and sometimes they weren't. This was again, another case in Brianna Samuels. She wasn't one of those bitches that everyone knew about because of stereotypes, that lived for gossip and brought people down just so they felt better about themselves. Okay, well Brianna did live for gossip, but mostly the harmless type of gossip and she definitely did not live to step on people. The type of gossip she lived for would basically be classified as petty theft in contrast to murder. Basically who dated who and who's hot and whatnot.