Storyteller Yaelokre Novels & Stories

I spoke softly to him, "Yael, this is home. You’re safe here. Mommy will always be by your side, and I won’t let anyone hurt you again." Yael looked at me, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Encouraged, I continued gently, "Yael, I know you’re scared right now, but it’s okay. We’ll get through this together. If you want something, just blink, and Mommy will understand, okay?" Yael blinked. Overjoyed, I quickly asked, "Are you hungry, Yael? I will make you something delicious."

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Freya asked worriedly. "Don't you like it mom?" Yael said sadly while looking at the floor. "It's not like tha–" Freya stopped speaking when Yael suddenly spoke up. "I put all my efforts into reaching the regional level because of that reward. I ... I want to pamper you, mom. You're my super-daddy-mom. That's still not enough for all the sacrifices and love you have given me. I know we are poor but you managed to get me into a prestigious school. Please mom, I want to go there with you," Yael pleaded.

It was a simple yet profound gesture, an invitation to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of new beginnings. Tala, with a keen sense of creativity, played a curated sound loop called “How Staying Sounds.” It was a symphony of life, a collection of sounds that captured the essence of perseverance and resilience. The loop ended with Yam’s line, a simple yet powerful declaration: “We stayed. That’s the story.” It was a reminder that sometimes, the most important stories are the ones we live, the ones we choose to tell through our actions and our presence.

"My car died about a mile back and the road just vanished behind me." "Sit down," he replied, already moving to the small kitchen area where a woodstove glowed red. He poured steaming coffee from a battered pot into a heavy ceramic mug and handed it to me, our fingers brushing. "Storm like this can last days. You're not going anywhere tonight." "I'm Nora Kane," I told him after the first careful sip burned pleasantly down my throat. "I'm a travel journalist. Supposed to be writing about people who choose to live off-grid, but I clearly picked the worst possible week to try it."

Ezra: “Let me GO!” Annalise yelled and I raised an eyebrow. I leaned against the table, looking at the woman whose eyes were wide as if in pain. The woman has been screaming since she opened her eyes two hours ago, and her voice simply grew louder by the minute to the point that I was surprised that she wasn’t tired already.

“No, I mean my real name. ‘Sky’ is a pseudonym as ‘Lylia’ is.” Their jaws dropped. Except for Tamor. “You knew?” “Just that ‘Sky’ isn’t the real one. You thought a bit too long the first time I asked for it.” “So what is your name then?” Jade questioned. “Lilith” There were a few moments of silence. As we processed information. “There is more.” I finally decided to confess to them. I told them everything about that horrific night. Highlighting the red eyes of my tonight’s intruder. “This can’t be the same male.” Tamor reasoned, ”The previous one would rather kill you.”

“You think I am old? Age is just a number. I still believe I am young. You never know, I might even outlive you.” Shiva’s face tensed a little. He looked down, avoiding the old man’s eyes. They stepped out of the store, filled with their own thoughts, and ambled in opposite directions towards their homes. Shiva carried a short-stories collection in his backpack from the shop. Mr. Ben had told him he could take any book from the shop to read. He planned to read it to his sister at night. She loved stories, especially those with happy endings. She loved to imagine herself as a character in those stories and live the happy lives vicariously. This was the only pleasure Shiva could give her – for

Elena's POV Suppressing my sobbing was the best way to ease the pain as tears flowed down my eyes. I sniffled and checked my phone again, my eyes widening at the lies the bloggers told online. As I glanced around the car, a sense of unease crept over me. I murmured to myself, 'How cruel can they be?' But at that moment, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by the newsmen. The pain that was threatening to overwhelm me was nothing compared to the blisters I had from the hot water burn.