The Book The Story Novels & Stories

"He always has an excuse." "He doesn't know I'm only seven diary pages away from leaving him." "I got my period today, and the cramps were so bad I couldn't get out of bed. Dexter came home and brought me some painkillers without me asking." "He said it was the same kind he'd gotten for Brianna last time. She said they worked great, so they'd probably help me too." "I said thanks, but no thanks." "One page left. Then I'm done." The last page had only two lines.

She poured herself another glass of cheap red, already on her third, and dropped onto the couch in her pencil skirt and blouse, buttons half undone. The city lights through the rain-streaked windows. Her laptop was still open on the coffee table, case files glowing like accusatory little rectangles. She should sleep. Instead she reached for the dusty old book she’d bought on a drunken whim two years ago at that weird occult shop downtown. *Daemonologie for the Modern Woman.* Stupid. But tonight it felt like the right kind of stupid. She flipped it open, scanned a page at random, and slurred the words under her breath. Latin? Probably, didn’t matter.

At first, I found it funny—how could a grown adult get stuck under a bed? But after gently trying to move, I found that the more I struggled, the tighter I was stuck. My arm was pressed under my body, and I could not use any strength at all. I immediately took out my phone and called Shen Zeyan, but he was in an important high-level project meeting. The call was hung up, and he only sent a short message: In a meeting. Contact you later.

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.

Since White had a coupon, we could go for 2 hours, but were we really gonna sing for that long? I can see why this kind of place would be fun with students but I think it'd be better if there were more people. It's kind of weird with just the two of us. "Do you wanna order something some food or a drink?" White asked as he looked through this weird book that had a list of songs. "Can you do that here?" I replied. "Here." He handed me a menu. "You can use that telecom over there on the wall to call somebody to make an order."

My father opened the bag . There were many books in that bag .He picked a book and gave it to me . He said to me "Go and read this book ." I asked " Which book is it ?" He stood up and replied " There is a true story written in it " "Which story "I asked . "The true story of that weird house " "True story?" "Yes , true story ". "But...…but …,how …..?" "You know what " "What?"

Hindi siya makatingin ng diretso sa mga mata ng mga ito, but everyone greeted her boss who was behind her. “S-Sir. `Yung book ko pala.” Bigla siyang huminto at lumingon dito nang nasa harap na sila ng kanilang mga opisina. “Everyone Has A Story, written by the Indian Author: Savi Sharma. This was the author’s debut novel and was first published in August 2015. Sharma self-published her book, which quickly became popular and bestselling. Later it was published by Westland publishers. By February 2017 more than 100,000 copies of the book were sold,” sabi nito sabay abot ng aklat na iyon sa kaniya.

he asked in an indifferent manner. I came in amazed by how huge actually this place was. There were books stacked on shelves, which were a few meters high, around five maybe. Books on several desks. Books piled everywhere on the floor. And more books near the fireplace. For all that was sacred sake, I would love to just spend the rest of my almost immortal life here. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch a fly.” He said clearly amused. ”Now, are you going to apologize or what?” “Why would I do that?” I instantly scoffed. Crossing my arms. I took a sit on the floor across from him.

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.

“Claire, it seems you are so busy these past few days. I barely see you here in the mansion,” her mother said. “I’m very sorry mother. I’m just having so much fun on the book I read. It has really a great story. So I always look for a place where I can be alone.” “Oh what story it is?” “It is titled, Against the Tragic Fate. It is the story where the lead character was given a chance to relive her life again and fight the tragic ending of her story in her previous life.” Claire lied.