Story About Father Novels & Stories

Father knows. "You know why." "Fascinated still? It's just your curiosity, son. Curiosity of what could have been." "Aren't you curious too? On what could have been?" I teased. I was only joking, but father took it seriously. He gave me one hard look. I thought it was okay to talk about Astoria Vazquez, dad's past lover, but I was wrong. Father has told me their story, after accidentally watching them fight one time. It was after a business meeting with Vazquez Group, the two of them were left in the meeting hall. Astoria was crying while father stood there, stressed.

I held Rome harder. “Mommy, can you tell me about dad again.” Where did I even begin? The tragic story of his father and I. “Your father had a hard life growing up.” I said, Rome staring at me with his big golden eyes. He had heard this story a few times. I wanted him to know he had a father just like all kids but talking about it was difficult. “But he grew up strong despite all the hardships he came across.”

I vaguely remembered a conversation I had with my father after I first heard of King Theodore’s love story from my mother. I had felt indignant that he mistreated his mates and marched right into my father’s office unannounced. Father had been in the middle of some important paperwork and seemed annoyed and confused when I barged in and walked straight up to him, blood boiling in my veins. Back then, my temper had been a blazing fire, much to the dismay of my parents, but I couldn’t put it out easily. Before Father could utter a word, I repeated what I’d learned and asked why he would support a king like that.

I said, waiting for the part where he asks for something in return. "Well, I'm doing this because bigger boss kissed my wife and claimed it was an accident which was definitely a lie," he replied in reference to father. This wasn't the first of its kind, father committed a lot of atrocities and always got away with it. I was really surprised he wasn't holding it against me. "You've been a good person, generally and to me personally so I plan to help make the people believe your story," he continued. I was lost for words, I had no idea what he was referring to. "What story?"

Vincent asked. “Sorry for what?” I said, resting a hand on my still-flat stomach. “He made his bed. Now he has to lie in it.” “You’re right.” Vincent leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “The past is past. We have to look forward now.” I closed my eyes, feeling the warm Mediterranean sun. In my heart, I spoke to the sky. Dad, you can rest easy now. Your daughter is happy. A gentle breeze rustled through the olive groves, as if my father was answering me from beyond. And here, on this ancient land, a new chapter for the Moretti family was just beginning.

“He is telling his son the story of how they met. She…was a painter. Apparently, she was looking for a muse when they found each other.” The five-year-old seemed to have found the sand more impressive than his parents’ love story as he vainly tried to paw at the heap. “That is a beautiful story,” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder. Dominic kissed into my beach-messed hair. “Well, one day, you can tell our son or daughter our story as well.” A sad smile crossed my face. “It will be hard to explain why I wanted to torture and kill their father.” “Or the fact that I woke up naked in your bed with no sense of location,” Dominic added, causing me to slap his forearm.

After taking a deep breath, she started the story. “My father used to work in a construction company. An accident at work took his life. As far as I know, my father wasn't in any pain because it happened so fast." Max's heart suddenly broke when he saw the sadness in his wife's eyes. "You don't have to continue," he whispered to the woman who then shook her head weakly. The story was still not enough to overcome the curiosity of the father-in-law. “Since becoming a single parent, my mother worked harder. She didn't want to use the compensation money. In one day, I don't know how many times Mama moved from house to house, teaching piano lessons. Until one day, she ... she ...."

Thomas says. “Can you tell a story?” “What story?” Thomas asks. “Anything,” He nods, “But it would be boring, are you okay with that?” he asks. “Yes,” he nodded. “There was a boy like you, he was born in a very poor household in a far away land and he comes here with a hope of finding a better home. He struggles, fought many battle, lost many people and at last he found his beautiful home. Maxine realizes that this is his story and watches his son doze off without understanding anything from his father’s story.

They had cheese and bread to fill themselves up, a typical poor-man’s meal, and his father’s cheesy laugh and large body was enough to shelter under the baking summer sun. At home, his father was a very different man. He is a very committed reader while daily tending to their crops and other flora. When he’s on the road, however, he opens like a book. Telling stories like how a traveler gathers his stories and shares them with others. “Hey bud, I have something to tell you…” He would start before sliding into stories which included myths and monsters. He will not remember these stories, but he will remember the way his father shares them. The words flow as smooth as silk dangling down his sk

“You're such an ass licker yet you don't even know who your father is. Do you think the king loves you so much or gives two fucks about you?” I hated using people's weaknesses against them but I knew my father's head guard's story. His mother was a well-known whore and he was born out of wedlock. His eyes widened and he flinched before pinching his lips tight to keep them from trembling. “Javier, don't tell me this little brat’s words hurt you. Come on, don't be a sissy,” my father laughed. “Hand him over, Father,” I said, pointing at Chadwick. My father laughed again and I felt rage build up inside me.