Story Theory Novels & Stories

“I knew that you were a greedy person but I didn’t know that you could take anyone’s life for your own concern! I will not let you live until I see you in the prison” “I didn’t kill him! it was just an accident” Keith started hesitating. “Stop lying you greedy man! You’re a thief and a murderer! All you love is money!” Henry accused. Keith slammed the door and went back in. “You didn’t go to work today? Asked his little daughter Victoria. “No.” “Why and who was on the door?” Martina came and sat beside Keith.

“Says the Alpha who gave his Luna oral sex in dream land.” “That would actually a very interesting story plot.” “Exactly why we should be doing more adventurous things while fucking…to spice up our lives and make good story plots.” “Hmm.” “Yeah, you mentioned one time that Everlery likes writing…she can write erotica stories with what we do and who knows? We might be the inspiration to a bestseller book.”

"And the war has truly begun. The Astropheles is yours now. Its core is a story-engine. It no longer needs my consciousness to guide it. It needs a new heart. A new narrative to fuel its light." The image of Lyra gestured to the dark filaments around us. "You must give it your story. All of it. The love, the loss, the fear, the hope. Woven together. It is the only fuel strong enough. The Archivists weaponize order. The void preys on chaos. But a story… a true, lived story… is a force they cannot predict and cannot control." The projection flickered. "You are not soldiers. You are storytellers. Now, go. Write your next chapter. I will be listening."

Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short stories. To make it easier to understand and more transparent, this chapter will be like a summary for this and the following volumes. Vol.2: medium stories: The antics of Bia's crew ( ABC) Bia comments on a crew of children of criminals, in an invisible ship. In this world full of magic, demonic beasts and restrictions, they live on the run, abandoned by their parents. Not being accepted anywhere in the world they have to survive on small illegal jobs and from time to time to plunder.

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.

Thea didn’t really want to die just because Anthony was pissed off at Ted. Thea sat down at the desk in the corner, pulling out the graphic novel she was close to finishing. A tale of a woman who discovers she has the power to see the future, the story had gotten dark and twisty with each panel that Thea drew. She’d intended this particular story to be one volume, but the story had expanded so much that Thea could see multiple volumes in the future.

The story of the cursed wolf was this. The story of the Alpha was this. The story of the manor was this. The story of the garden was this. The story of the flowers was this. The story of tragedy was this. The story of return was this. The story of rest was this. The story of breath was this. The story of recognition was this. The story of dissolution was this. The story of the reader reading this was this. All stories are this. Appearing as story. All non-stories are this.

Alas, his shaking body exposed the torrent of emotions rushing through him. All of a sudden, he recalled having once read in a book that the body scent of the merpeople could ease the symptoms of someone who had compulsive sexual disorder. At the time, he didn't believe merpeople existed and thought it was just a fairy tale. Thinking about it now, he realized that whenever he was with Sylvie, that unique body scent of hers would always make his breath hitch. Just then, his phone started ringing. Nick Henderson, Connor's assistant, exclaimed over the phone, "Something terrible has happened, Mr. Shaw! Quick! Check the latest headlines!"

Marcus and his friends became bolder. They forced Dominic to drive them along dangerous mountain roads after drinking. They demanded night trips during heavy rain. They ordered him to carry sealed bags and warned him not to look inside. Each time Dominic refused, Marcus waved the debt note. “Don’t forget what you signed,” he would say. “If you stop listening, I’ll tell the whole village your family borrows money and refuses to pay it back.” In a small town, rumors could destroy a family.

“Someone discreet. Someone who understands hospital systems.” There is a pause as he listened to the voice on the other end. “Yes. Domestic abuse cases. Private wards. Unreported incidents.” Another pause. “No,” Ethan said softly. “I need it documented.” He ended the call and leaned back, exhaling slowly. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was focused. Somewhere in the city, a man believed he’d won by force. Ethan Reed would teach him what happened when violence met patience. And when money meets truth. And if there's one more game he has to play, which he hates so much... It's to meet up with an old time frenemy.