Story Book Novels & Stories

"Bed time story!!" shouted Hans while holding a picture book that has a green dragon and a white bird on the cover. The title said: The Scale and The Feather. "Yes! Bedtime story!" shouted Ina. "Bedtime stowreeey~!!" the others sang excitedly. The Matron chuckled and took the book from Hans' hands. "Ventusien tonight? You must be loving this story so much, don't you Hans?" The Matron kindly said.

I punched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my temples, telling the stress that had chained me to release me from it's shackles. Jade's turn and she told a story that had already been written by some author known as Godwin Hosanna Aga. The book was named in the deep and it was about some girl named Hephzibah and it was pretty interesting and scary the way my baby sister had told it with a touch light under her chin, illuminating her face and weird canines. "And that is, in the deep!" Jade screamed, stomping her feet on the floor and howling like a wolf.

My brother by blood, Eric Wilson, was having an affair. I found out about it. However, I chose not to tell his wife. Instead, I blackmailed him into buying me three luxury handbags.

I had chosen a small town in southern Italor, a place where Mom had lived as a young girl. Mom often told me stories about this place when I was little. She'd tell me about the white houses surrounded by lemon trees, an azure coastline, and the peace of church bells echoing through the mountains at dusk. After Mom passed away, Dad had wanted to bring me here to settle down, but he was always too tied up with the family business to make it happen. Now, I had come on their behalf. I rented a small apartment facing the sea, with its white walls slightly warmed by the sun. On the windowsill sat a pot of blooming bougainvilleas.

“So that way.” 16B was a much larger section than I expected. Still, it made sense since wolves were always passing down stories to the younger generations, true or not. “Found it,” I said. It took forty-five minutes but I found a book on the Moon Blessed that was not a kid's bedtime story. “When the Goddess becomes a man,” I read out the title. From the cover, I could tell it was still a fiction story for the most part. But it was better than nothing at all.

Aria tried to apologize. She had them dressed up in their night clothes and tucked them into bed. “Mama, can you tell us a story…?” Laura coughed. “Yes, baby. Where are your story books… found it.” She stretched her hands toward the night stand. Aria flipped the book open and started reading from it. “A long time ago in the animal kingdom, there was a little lion prince called Simba, whose parents ruled over the forest, but died after the betrayal of his uncle, Mufasa…”

I can tell Uncle Leo we aren't ready yet. 'I'm sure. I don't think it will help us, but it won't hurt either.' She said. I picked up the book. It was an old, deep brown, leatherbound book with the title in gold leaf. 'Tales of Olde'. It was heavier than I expected. Uncle Leo hadn't told me the title of the story so I skimmed the contents page. None of the titles mentioned an unnamed wolf. I sighed.

Brianna’s little hands grasp ours like we're a family. “Alright, Bri,” I start, holding the book out in front of us. “What story are we reading tonight?” “The princess and the frog!” she declares, eyes sparkling. Kevin groans dramatically. “You always read that!” I smirk, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “How dare you complain about such a masterpiece?” As I read, I exaggerate voices, making Kevin act as a cute frog, Brianna squeals in delight, clutching her blanket tighter when I narrate the part where Tiana becomes a frog too.

he said. Inside were pages full of pencil sketches and short, clumsy sentences—none of them professionally done, all of them exactly him. There was a crooked family on the first page with two parents and a rescue dog named Bix. The second page had a sketch that looked suspiciously like our penthouse couch, with the caption: Where Tuesdays live. The book was a hand-made children’s story: The Little House That Held Tuesdays. Each page held a tiny adventure—the first puddle jump, the first burned pancake, the time a kite escaped and came back with a ribbon.

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?”