Story Books Novels & Stories

For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes. The w******l policy does not allow me to remove or delete those books, so they will remain there but as a "paused" book. You can find only the introduction of those books on w******l and no else more. But there you can find some covers I made for those stories and that I can not upload here. The stories of a single chapter will continue to be published, of course. Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short 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.

"It's better than I imagined . You are not actually mentally unstable , you are just scared and turn to have illusions of the people who caused you harm . This is termed as post traumatic stress disorder. It is a disorder that may occur to people who have witnessed or experienced a traumatic event .'' So what are we going to do . '' That would be a tale for another day.Right now i only have one question that is , what did you like doing before all this happened ?'' I loved to read. I remember reading Nancy Drew's stories and they were simply amazing. '' Really i love reading too . Why not give you a book to read and you would come and tell me what happened every day?'' That would be amazing

he questions. I nod my head. "Yes," I say again. "I've always loved reading." "Book," he says in a gruff voice. "Liffatin. Can you repeat that back to me?"Liffatin," I repeat. "That's a beautiful word. You know, back in my kingdom there was a little shop called a library and it harbored many, many books. Some were sad, some were happy, some were full of action and tales of courageous princes and princesses, fictional tales of fire-breathing dragons and fairies and demons. A book is where imagination takes flight."

These stories ranged from tales of triumph and resilience to accounts of cultural traditions and the bonds forged through shared humanity. Luna compiled these stories into a book titled "Voices of Seoul," a testament to the diverse voices that make up the vibrant tapestry of the city. Through the publication of the book, Luna aimed to not only give a voice to those whose stories often go unheard but also to provide a platform for readers around the world to connect with the people of Seoul on a deeply personal level.

Images of Youyou leaning on the headboard and lazily flipping through the comic books appeared in his mind. The school recommended this list of books to parents. Yuna specially purchased a few series at the bookstore according to the booklist and placed them on the bed stand. Before going to bed at night, she would cradle the boy in her arms and gently read him stories from the books. Usually, the little lad had a distaste for these comics and books that were like child’s play to him; he found them to be a tad boring and dull, but because he loved his mommy’s storytelling, he tolerated listening to them.

"Really? And what stories does Mommy tell you?" Brandon tilted his head, thinking. "The Three Bears, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and the Prince and the Frog." He hesitated a little. "Mommy knows lots of stories too, but she only tells me one each night, so she finishes them quickly." Peter grinned. "Is that so? Do you really like listening to stories?" Brandon nodded enthusiastically. "I love it." "Then, how about letting Grandma tell you stories from now on? Sometimes, Mommy gets very tired."

“That’s a beautiful story, Mommy. I bet it is going to be a smash hit like your other books.” Admiration filled my son’s voice. Since they were born, I would always tell them a story and the habit stuck. They were so proud when they learned that I had written most of the stories that lined up my bookcase. After badgering me with too many questions, the kids closed the book we were reading. Oakley walked slowly on the bed, balancing the book she carried in her arms. The book looked enormous in her little arms, but it did not deter her from her task.

I was dressed in a comfortable summer dress and the flowers in my hair made me look like some kind of creature from a fairy tale. I met with the children who were all excited about grabbing a piece of cake and joining me for story time. Each year, I read them the story about the dragon king and the werewolf princess falling in love. I thought they would eventually get bored with the book, but they never did. Each year, all the children would gather around me and wait eagerly to hear the story.

"They have books! Remember how we used to go to the used bookstore when I was a kid? ‘Storybook Land’. Oh my God, I loved that place!" "Of course I remember," she said with a chuckle. "We used to spend hours there. You were obsessed! I swear, we spent more money there than we did on food the summer you were in kindergarten. You loved that series about the puppy. What was it called again?" She was right. My mom had taken me there almost every weekend. And when things started to go wrong with my dad, it was our haven. We hid there and immersed ourselves in the pages of other worlds. Worlds where no matter what the problem might be, whether it was vicious dragons, evil monsters, or even puppies