Story And Question Novels & Stories

“Do you like me?” The words that came out of Tales' mouth froze the atmosphere. He felt it turn even more awkward, but he needed to see and hear Raja's reaction and answer. Raja stared at him for a moment, as if debating whether to answer or not. He then sighed, tried to open his mouth, but shut it again. "Answer me," Tales demanded, pressing Raja to respond to the question. Raja stared back at him and answered, "Yes."

He asked looking at me questioningly. "By just doing nothing. I just have extra curricular activities nor do I study so there's no where my strength goes to." I answered. "Well now I'm hear and if you want to hear who helped then you'll have to finish a burger." He said then raised one for me. "No." I started and he raised a questioning brow. "Then I won't tell you anything." He concluded. "No, what I meant is I'll eat the burger while you say the story. I promise to finish it before it ends." I promised.

I cleared my throat and removed my hand that has been on his head. "Do you want a romance story or an adventurous story?" I asked inaudibly. "Take a good look at me, do I look like someone that enjoys romantic tales?" He questioned and I mentally slapped myself for asking. "I apologize, your highness" I cooed with a faux smile. He beckoned on me to go on with the wave of his hand. I took a deep breath racking my brain endlessly for a story. Hmph. Here goes nothing; "There was a mean evil slave master. He had thousands of slaves and was cruel and heartless. He had a son...

She knew what she had done was so crazy and spontaneous, that it was too unbelievable to tell Nadia that it was she who did all of that. "Wait. Aren't you reading the book? Why are you asking me all these questions if you can read it directly?" Nadia suddenly realized and asked her, "How did the story end, and what is the title? I'm interested." Stacy turned her watering eyes to Nadia, totally clueless about what to give her as an answer. Her head tried to quickly think of a plausible answer that she could tell her curious friend, and it seemed like she had run out of what to say until an idea struck her.

Aside from Evelyn, everyone had had a few drinks, their faces flushed, clearly a little tipsy. No one knew who started it, but all of a sudden, the conversation shifted to ex-boyfriends. Some people doubled over with laughter. Others had tears in their eyes. A few stories were so ridiculous that Sophie could barely breathe from laughing. She nudged the only sober person next to her. "Evelyn, what about you?" For a moment, Evelyn's expression went blank. Unbidden, memories surfaced in her mind.

END. Couldn't think of a perfect way to end this, anyway __ all in all, we have come to the end of our story , if you haven't said anything since we started , come on, this is your chance, please say something, anything, whatever , just anything you think about it... thanks for reading, don't forget to vote and thanks in advance for your feedback❤

she asks. Elizabeth takes a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's a difficult story to tell," she says. "But I want to be honest with you. So, here's what happened." She takes another deep breath, and begins to tell the story. It's a long and complicated tale, but she tells it with as much honesty and compassion as she can. As she speaks, Samantha listens intently, absorbing every word. When the story is over, they sit in silence for a moment, taking in everything they've just heard.

“Grandma, can I ask a question?” I asked. “What is it darling?” she smiled at me then, held my hand. I looked at her. “In all of the stories you told me up until now that I’m close to a grown up woman, I’m 17 now, if you’re missing it grandma. So, why does the girl in your story always die?” I curiously asked. I wonder why the girl in her story named Avis like mine, always dies. The happenings in the story changes, but the ending is still the same, I’m getting pissed off by that.

The kidnapping story takes forty-five minutes to tell properly. Not because Maya embellishes — she doesn't, she has never needed to, the actual facts are sufficient — but because Daniel asks questions. Good ones. The specific questions of someone who is paying attention and wants to understand the architecture of a thing rather than just its surface.

he asked, his tone neutral. Amy glanced at me quickly, like she wasn’t sure how I’d take that. I let out a small breath, leaning back. “People are really stuck on that, huh?” “It’s a fair question,” he said. “Is it?” I asked. He held my gaze. “Yeah.” I shrugged lightly. “I think people like stories,” I said. “Gives them something to focus on.” “That’s not an answer either,” he replied. “It’s enough of one,” I said, my tone still calm.