Story's Or Stories Novels & Stories

Half a month later, in the middle of the night, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from Lex. [Audrey, I'm sorry.] I stared at it for a moment, then put the phone down. I didn't reply. Our story had ended long ago. I closed that chapter. From now on, our lives will go their own way—like two roads that'll never cross again.

Hope asked as he stared at my teary eyes. “I am not; Mama just got something stuck in her eyes.” I lied, dampening my tears with the pocket square I held. “Mama, you don't look like you're telling the truth. Is something wrong?” He asked with his little voice laced with concern. “Hope, I think I'm stressed. Why don't you go and play in your room? I'll get your dinner ready, OK?” I said, forcing a smirk as I walked towards the end of the hallway. It

My name was Lola Sinclair, a young wife from a small farming town. My husband, Dominic DeLuca, used to work at a construction site. He was honest, hardworking, and willing to take any job as long as it could keep our family fed. We had two children, a modest home, and a life that was never rich but still peaceful. Then everything changed. Dominic fell from a height at the construction site and badly injured his leg. The contractor responsible disappeared soon afterward, leaving us without compensation. Instead of receiving help, we were forced to cover nearly one hundred thousand dollars in medical expenses ourselves.

Side by side, Christina and I strolled through the gallery, taking in the vibrant artwork. Christina's love and knack for art were off the charts. She had a way of uncovering the hidden tales in each piece from angles no one else seemed to see. "Erick, check out this painting." She gestured towards an oil painting named 'Nirvana', her eyes alight with excitement. "It's a phoenix rising from the ashes, feathers scorched but eyes blazing with hope and strength for what's ahead. It reminds me of you." Her words caught me off guard, and I turned to her.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

Tension flowed through my body. The only thing on my mind was this: Impress them. The man in the middle picked up my file. “I can see here that you have written several stories. “Yes, sir.” “And you want to work with us?” “Yes, sir.” He leaned back slightly. “Then tell us something, Miss Molley. Why do you think storytelling is important?” For a second, my mind went blank. But then the words slowly returned. “Stories help people understand themselves,” I said. “Sometimes people cannot say how they feel, but they can see themselves in a story.”

I'm so glad you all enjoyed this story! 💖 As an adventurous writer, I'm excited to try something new—and I’d love your input! ✨ I have two stories in the works, but I can only write one at a time: Vampire Book A WEREWOLF BOOK These stories don’t follow the usual popular tropes, but I truly believe you’ll enjoy them just as much (if not more!). Please let me know which one you'd love to read first. Your feedback means everything to me! 🖋️📚💬

"We'll accept your challenge. Who starts?" One of the arts and entertainment students, a girl with dark hair and piercing green eyes, stood up. "We will," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "Now, gather round, children. This is a story about love, betrayal, and revenge. It's a story of two kingdoms, separated by the sea, and the prince and princess who dared to defy their families for the sake of their love…” The arts and entertainment student's tale was captivating, weaving a story of love, intrigue, and betrayal with a flair for the dramatic. As she finished, her peers erupted into applause and cheers, impressed with her storytelling skills.

he says with a smirk plastered across his face. “Please no …no. Stop.” *SMACK* “Ahh…I'm a whore. One” *SMACK* “Ahhhh.. I'm a whore. Two” …..Five,....SIX…..Ten…... .Twelve….. Nineteen. “So this is the final deal” Clover fondled her head gently stroking her hair and caressing her ass cheeks with the stick. Her ass was all red and bruised. *SMACK* “Ahh.. I'm a whore. Twenty.”

Sanket asked They all nodded. "then I'm successful in it. I'm a good story teller." Sanket jokes "now you all go to sleep it's late night," Mishika said They all nodded and went to their rooms. "Why did you tell them this story, Sanket? They don't need to know about our past." Khwaish said and Mishika noded "I didn't tell them that it's true. I just shared It as a story that will help them in future. Now come on don't waste time you have to check on Ekansh as well if he need something or not," Sanket said