The Cider House Rules Novels & Stories

“How about apple cider instead?” I might be the first person to drink apple cider at a bar. It was so sour that it felt like it was burning my insides. The music was loud, and the colorful lights made everyone look like they were in a weird dream. Sophie shouted over the noise, “Cassia, I’m throwing you a huge party! I’ll invite all our friends and make it even bigger than your wedding!” I relaxed on the couch and sipped on my apple cider. I allowed her to do whatever she wanted.

"Dad, can you let me run the World Cup book this year?" Sophie Bell's voice was sweet, but her ambition was impossible to hide. The huge living room went quiet the moment she said it. Everyone knew why. The World Cup brought global traffic, and for the Foster family, it was the most important six-month revenue line of the year. Whoever controlled that book was, by default, the next core heir of the family business. My father held an unlit cigar between his fingers and looked at her with helpless indulgence.

Mentioning to her how much he was enjoying the meal and the iced tea. “By any chance, do you have any wine?” Lyle asked excitedly. “Yes, it's in the wine cabinet. I don't allow heavy drinking in my house. You're limited to two glasses in this house.” Chuckling as he rises from the table, he says, “You have a lot of rules, don't you? Well, I only want to drink one glass. Is that okay?” “Sure, one glass is fine.”

I even had on blue underwear that matched, although I doubted the Queen Mother would care about that. I hurried down the stairs, going over the rules for how to address the Queen Mother in my head. I was supposed to curtsy and always end my sentences with a “Your Majesty.” I needed to keep my drink in my left hand so I would never have a clammy handshake. I was only supposed to nibble on the food, and not if I had a drink because then I wouldn't have any hands to greet people with. The soft sounds of music and people chatting wafted through open windows as I hurried down the corridor toward the garden entrance. It was a surprisingly warm day and the castle had as many windows open as possibl

David cussed himself for making such family rules. "Family rule number 11 says... I Mr David Westwood shall never drink alcohol again. " David said lowly as if he's a kid caught in doing wrong. "Good point... Now what about rule number 23 and 24 ?" Jane questioned her father. " The rule number 23 says Mr Westwood is not allowed to come home late. Mostly he's supposed to be in the house latest by nine.... Rule number 24 say Mr Westwood should be awake by latest 8 am." David stated the rules correctly since he knows his kids as intelligence as they are have already memorized all the 99 rules.

There was also a letter that accompanied it. She woke up early in the morning and set on foot. She did not even have a taxi fare. It was hot that day and the thick clouds appeared from the north indicating that there would be thunderstorms that in the afternoon. She walked a long distance in the scorching heat of the sun. When she arrived at the house of the relative there were two creepy men who were drinking beer in the verandah. She greeted them and asked if there are people inside the house. They ignored her and carried on with drinking their beer. That gave Mary more reason to be afraid of them. At some point she thought that they were deaf or dumb. But when she was inside the house, s

in my this house , you only wear those clothes which I have selected for you . Rule no. 3 - you're not allowed to step out from this house without my permission , in simple words you're grounded . Rule no. 4 - you're not allowed to cry infront of me , whether you're in extreme pain you won't weep if I am around you or I am the reason for your pain. Rule no. 5 - you always obey me ... Means .. you will be my puppet . That's it these are the rules which you have to follow till you're married to me , and if you brake any rule than you will be dead .

It swings back open and whacks my shin for good measure. “I felt bad for you,” I tell the door, hopping on one foot, “but now I think you deserved it.” Great. Talking to furniture. Totally fine. That’s when I notice the paper taped inside the door. Big black letters at the top. RULES. Ten of them. Neat. Precise. Ruthless. “Oh.” I read them. Try to understand them. Control. That’s what it’s all about, I realize. These 10 points are a way to manage every aspect of his life — from racing to sex.

I said, handing him a list of house rules. "Read this and follow it. No exceptions." " What is this? " " Rules that you need to follow if you want to live in my home. " " Rules?? Let's see. " Rain skimmed through the list, a smirk forming on his face. "No spontaneous dance parties? No late nights? No guests or girlfriends should visit here. No loud music? No flirting? No pillow fights? Have to keep the house neat and clean? Emma, you're killing all the fun! " He said making a shocked face.

For the past two hours, Jack's eyes have not left his work screen. Occasionally, the window behind him provided a temporary distraction, where the bustling Flown could be seen returning to its usual state. Jack greatly enjoyed the constant stream of guests entering after passing through rigorous security checks. Flown nightclub was pulsating once again. However, Jack enforced a rule for its visitors. Initially, many protested, but the owner had entrusted the decision to Jack. No one could object to anything Jack wanted in Flown, including the tight security measures.