Stone Soup Book Read Online Novels & Stories

I laughed at what she said. "Okay, let's stop talking about this. I want you to have the perfect night. Stop worrying about finding or not finding your mate. Let's worry about getting you fed. You haven't eaten at all today. You promised me you would eat tonight. Now go find your brother and Jason. They started cooking the ribs an hour ago. I'm sure they are tender and just how you like." "Okay mom" I said to her without arguing. She was right. I hadn't eaten all day and my brother Zeus' ribs were my favorite. I slowly started walking towards them when I got a sinking feeling.

When the sun the up? Oh, well. I throw my phone carefully on the blue pillow on the bed. I haven’t read in a bit, so I take one of my favorite books. Though I have read it numerous times, it’s an epic book. I run my finger on the letters on the cover page of the book. The letters reads: THE OUTSIDERS. I sigh satisfyingly and begin my book. In a minute, I’m already lost in the world of ‘Ponyboy Curtis’, the book’s narrator.

The noodles were congealing in their broth again. Seren jabbed her chopsticks into the soggy clump, lifted them high, and shook her head like she was disappointed in humanity itself. “Pathetic,” she muttered. And she wasn’t sure if she meant the noodles, the book glowing on her laptop screen, or her own sad existence — hunched over her desk at two a.m., hair in a nest, bathrobe stained with soy sauce. On the screen, bold italicized letters announced the chapter title: The Mate Ceremony.

Don't just skip this book again; add to library. Enjoy! Your loving author; Natasha Gwen

“You need to warm your insides up. For the baby’s health, if not your own.” Something about the way he said it made me open my mouth. The soup was good—hearty and warming, with chunks of potato and carrot. Before I knew it, I’d eaten the entire bowl. “Better?” he asked after polishing off his own bowl and both of our pieces of bread. I nodded, but now that my stomach was full, I became acutely aware of how disgusting I felt. My clothes felt like they were fully cemented to my skin at this point, and I swore there was a thick film of grime covering me from head to toe.

The city sky had grown dark to a mellow gray, the kind that swathed everything in gentleness—buildings, trees, people. Rain still lingered in the air, shrouding the windows of **Chapter & Soul** in a soft mist. Inside, the world progressed more slowly, more softly. It was perfumed with old books, chamomile tea, and something sweet that Lena had baked and not labeled.

Slowly and gently, she helped me lift the bowl up, up, until it touched my dry lips. The first sip of hot soup hit my tongue. A wave of pure life went straight through my body. It was warm, salty, and tasted better than anything I had ever eaten in my life. As the hot liquid went down my dry, raw throat, it felt like fire melting the thick ice inside my veins. It washed away the horrible taste of dirt and old leather. I took another big drink, and then another. Sophia held my hands the entire time, keeping the bowl steady. Then I reached down with one shaking hand and took a bite of the bread. It was so soft and fresh. It soaked up the last bits of soup in my mouth.

"Annie, look at you. You've been so busy handing out milkshakes that you haven't even had a sip yourself! Go on, have a sip." I took the milkshake from my roommate's hand and brought the straw up to her lips. "No, Sienna, you should drink it. I bought this to welcome you, after all." Annie Redwood waved her hands quickly, pushing the milkshake back toward me. However, I saw how her eyes lingered on my lips, unable to hide the anticipation as she waited for me to take a sip.

I love this book. I'm having a blast, reading my book, drinking my Coke, and eating my cheesy mushroom and sausage pizza. The wind feels lovely on my bare legs, shoulders, and face. I am so engrossed in my book that I don't see who is standing in front of me. Before I can look up, he has dropped to his knees on my blanket. I feel my panic starting to rise.

I had spent ten years in his company, but it was nothing compared to Yulia, who had just come back. I kept caressing my pregnancy diary in the gloomy and dark basement. The book ended up counting down my last days in this world. “Miss Cooper, you have to deliver this bowl of soup to Miss Little,” a maid said with arrogance, then forced a bowl of hot soup into my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Mr. Graham. How could he let a murderer stay here?” The soup splashed a little and burned the base of my thumb, forming a few blisters.