Stutter Stanley Novels & Stories

Maddie nodded and turned around to leave but was abruptly stopped a small stuttering voice, "Mama can't y-you stay a little longer? We d-didn't even talk... I m-miss you." She tilted her head to see her child. Her head hung low and she had tightly clutched her fabric. Maddie was confused---Elena wasn't a kid who stuttered but infact she was energetic. However she shrugged and left without answering or even acknowledging her. "I hate you." My eyes fluttered open.

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO, YOU TRUNK OF A MAN!” A low, sinister chuckle leaves his lips at my lame insult, his wide shoulders shaking slowly at the motion. “My name is Santino Ricca.”

Suddenly in a fit of fury, Stanley lashed out, “You’re a fucking, stinking coward! Why did you run away?” The room, still silent and nothing sounded. Stanley let out a deep breath. His nostrils flare in a madness he couldn’t control! Silence continued to spill over the house. After certain nothing else occur Stanley turned, bolted toward the staircase. Stumbling into the bedroom, he hated admitting his knees buckled. Stanley leaned onto the towering oak wood dresser, shut his eyes. He promised to get the bastard opening attack on him.

I blinked and almost turned back to be sure he was talking to me. “I have a party tonight. Want to come?” I clutched my books against my chest and hesitated. “What? Are you blind, Zane?” Reagan’s voice cut through the air. “That’s the spear-freaking chucker,” she let out. I clutched my books harder. I waited, expecting laughter, sneers, but none came. “Well, she looks like a model to me,” Zane said. My face broke into an uncontrolled smile. Reagan scoffed again, shock-stricken.

Let’s gather petals from every whisper that’s ever dared to be heard. The second anniversary of the studio wasn’t planned with streamers. It unfolded gently, like the pages of a well-loved book, each moment a quiet celebration of creativity and connection. Visitors arrived with folded notes, old zines, sketches drawn on receipts and tucked in pockets, each item a testament to the studio’s role as a sanctuary for expression. Someone brought a typewriter and offered to write impromptu letters on the spot, capturing the essence of spontaneity and the beauty of words in their raw form.

‘That man’ did say that they would picked up abilities and some sort so he wasn’t that surprised. He glanced at his defense stat and wondered. Just one plus, he endured a half an hour torture and he only got one plus?! F*cking hell! Why are systems so selfish nowadays? Stanley fumbled on his pants pocket as he searched for his usual cigarette. However, he felt nothing and eventually became irritated. Even my cigarette was removed beforehand! He peered towards the door as he clicked his tongue. That guy was also taking too long! Stanley strode towards the door and twisted the knob. He look outside seeing no one and quickly stepped out.

he didn't understand what was happening so he started to ask questions but his mouth was taped so all Patrick can hear was muhaaa mauhaaaa. Patrick singled one off his man to remove stan's tape from his mouth. when the tape was removed stan started shouting "what the fuck is this Patrick let us go. stop playing this drama. you know about father if he finds out he will kill you " stan think Patrick is using his lottery money to hire some people and cars to scary him while he was shouting Patrick singled his men to make his shout up and he stood up and turned towards stan and said "I don't care about Susan or anything else but if you ever cross your line I will not let you go " Patrick turned

Now it's almost three years since that but I am barely out of shock. I was always called and referred to as the 'stutter boy' and it makes me feel sick. I can't get used to it or stop minding it. It really hurts me. Okay, I agree I stutter while speaking. I tried a lot to stop stuttering. But I couldn't do anything about it. And it worsened after Alex's death. I don't really know what to do about it anymore. But I am not stupid or anything. Why do I have to be called the ‘stutter boy’ when I actually have a name?

"Oh, that...dead mice, probably store-bought. You know the one reptile keeper buy for their snakes and such. The sick psycho smears its blood on the box. We are having the box examined, but until we find our stalker, you're not going anywhere alone. I prefer having you here, and now that you're sick I think it's better if you rest." Brice continues on Grady's explanation. "Grady and I already talk about Clara's announcement tomorrow and our pictures and a statement from her as my agent will suffice and she said the silence from our side, will be better as if we are attempting a low profile on our engagement and it's perfect for the stalker situation."

Rose set this date up to loosen me up and make me happy; Instead, it added to every bad thing already happening to me. “Aww…” I screeched as I bumped into someone who immediately stood in my path. “How fucking blind are yo—“ My words went back into my throat immediately as I looked up at him. My stalker was staring at me, his brows furrowed, and fists folded. “You gave me a week; you said I was free for we—“