Stories Cover Novels & Stories

F - First U - Uncommon C - Classified K - Kriminal (I am using 'K' instead of 'C' because it's my story, so no offense) Take care of yourselves, my readers !! Tell me what you like, tell me when I was wrong :-)

By evening, the news had spread through the circle. The engagement between the Harmons and the Reeses was probably over. Conrad had already caused a stir by publicly calling off the wedding in front of the media. Today, the heiress of the Harmons had actually called off the engagement at her own birthday party, in front of everyone. It was rumored that Conrad's expression at that moment was quite something. The head of the Reeses family had picked up a teapot and smashed it over his head, blood spilling everywhere.

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.”

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect the insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

“You scared the poor boy, dude.” That was the first response he got from Damien Lau after he finished telling the whole story. The doctor visited him today, and he served some mineral waters to him. He was just a bachelor who didn’t really care about food at home and only had mineral waters with him. Despite being a bad host, the painter still dared to pour his heart out by telling the story that bothered him since yesterday. Yeah, he had told his friend about his ‘experience’ with his student yesterday.

“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.

Keith and Trina sat nearby, quiet but alert, their presence grounding her. Alexander stood near the fireplace, phone in hand, posture as straight as a blade. “The story’s gained traction in forty-eight outlets,” he said evenly. “Mostly online tabloids, but three of them have credibility—Daily Wire, Celebrity Ledger, MetroView. They’re all running versions of the same narrative.” “Let me guess,” Cameron said from where he lounged in a leather armchair, one leg slung over the other. “The ‘Cross family staged a sob story’ theory?”

My heart is beating very wildly as he is sitting very close to me now. "You go first!" I whispered. "Okay." "I sing so well. I play the guitar. I have never been in love." "Which one is the lie?" "you play the guitar." "Aww. You are wrong." "Ohh. So which one is the lie?" "I have never been in love." He said. "I have actually been in love. It ended in tears sha. Hot, premium tears." He added. I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you mind talking about it? I'm sorry for laughing though."

Photographs covered the walls portraits of strangers caught mid-smile, moments of stillness, and little stories told without words. “Wow,” I breathed. “It’s beautiful.” Ethan shrugged lightly. “It’s just life through a lens.” He motioned toward a chair near the window. “Sit. Want coffee? Or tea?” “Coffee’s fine,” I said, and he disappeared for a moment, returning with two steaming cups. When I took the first sip, he leaned against the table across from me and asked, “So, how’s your story going now?” I smiled. “Better, actually. The words are finally moving again.”