Story Letters Novels & Stories

she said again. When her Mom first told her that she was going to be changing schools, she wasn't happy, she hated being the new girl at school, the one that everyone stared and pointed at but now, she was determined never to let some spoiled brats at Maverick High bring her down. She finished with breakfast, picked up her backpack and went out to the car, her Mom got into the driver's seat and they were off.

“Would you tell me a story? My friend Dustin says his mom and dad tell him stories every night, but no one will tell me a story.” My heart melted hearing his request, and I smiled. “Of course, Liam. And you are in luck. I know so many stories.” I picked him up in my arms. “Really?” he said excitedly, burying his head in my neck, making me sigh in content. “Yay.” I tucked him into his bed. I began weaving a tale about a courageous knight who embarked on an epic adventure to save a kingdom from a fearsome dragon. Liam’s eyelids grew heavy as he listened to the tale, and soon he was fast asleep.

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.

Chapter 1 The bookstore smelled like fresh coffee and old paper, the way it always did on event nights. Elena Reyes stood at the front of the packed reading room, microphone in hand, watching twenty kids and their parents lean forward as she finished the last chapter of the bedtime story. Laughter rippled through the crowd. A little girl in the front row clapped so hard her pigtails bounced. Then her phone buzzed on the podium. Once. Twice. Three times. She ignored it until the applause died down. Only then did she glance at the screen.

It was a collection of stories never told. She called it: “Flames That Almost Were.” She asked each family member to share something they hadn’t said before. Hope shared a letter she wrote but never sent, to a Seed Center student who dropped out and disappeared. Ayden shared a poem he wrote in a refugee camp that he was too afraid to perform. Liana shared a lullaby her grandmother whispered only once, the night before she passed. Even Damon contributed. His story was simple: a fear he once had that he would never be a good father. He wrote it down, folded it carefully, and handed it to Grace with a smile.

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?”

She untied me quickly and pulled me into her arms, kissing me softly for the first time that night. “You did so good, baby,” she whispered, stroking my hair. “But we’re not finished yet…”

Lily scoots closer and leans against my arm. “Tell me a story.” “What kind of story?” “Prince and Princess.” I pause for a moment to think. “Once upon a time, there was a prince who lived in the huge castle. He was strong and brave, but he was lonely.” Lily listens, her eyes wide and attentive. “One day, he found a Princes in the rain. She was lost and scared, and he brought her home. They fell in love and then—” Lily interrupt “That’s like you and that Scary Eyebrow Man?”

“And did your love story started? Say it fast! Hahaha I really wanted to know it dear.’ She faced me happily. But she tasted what she cooked. What kind of story am I going to sew. According to Jeoff, her Aunt is so good about it since she is writing romance novel. It is so hard, I am going to find it difficult. And if I am in trouble again, Jeoff will be dead to his Dad again. It is already me who has no heart with Jeoff if I am just going to let him be in trouble again. How did Jeoff and I meet. “It is, one day…” “Yes, stories always start with one day, but dear, a, storyteller tell story which is storyteller meaning was telling lies. Are you good at it? Try me Lily?" and there seems to be

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.