The Cider House Rules Novels & Stories

"What are we gonna do today? Milk run?" "Nope," I responded. "Father and I took care of it yesterday. But we can head over to Old Fez's house. Maybe he has some new board games we could check out." "Ooo and free apple cider," he chimed. Riley was obessed with apple cider. He could drink gallons of it and never get tired of the taste. I, on the other hand, couldn't drink more than five cups without feeling nauseous. "Yeah, that," I laughed. "Let's go."

Look away, cupcake. Do not say Ryder Dane’s name. Do not— I stopped reading. There were thirty rules, where about twenty of them were about Ryder and how he belonged to Chrissy. “What other supposed rule did I break?” Chrissy lifted a hand and stabbed a finger over rules 9 and 10. No talking or touching Ryder Dane. “Well, come to think of it. You broke three.” “You are literally the most unhinged person I’ve met.” And that was saying a lot, as I’ve dealt with my fair share of crazy. “And you really expect everyone to follow these dumb rules?”

When I shook my head she threw her hands up and huffed, "well that sorts it then. Grease it is." She grabbed a bottle of expensive vodka from the bottle rack and fetched two shot glasses, setting them firmly on the table between the two reclining chairs next to the half empty bottle of champagne. "Rules of the game: if anyone says Danny, Sandy or Sandra, you take a drink of champagne. If someone touches their hair, it's a shot, same with whenever a song starts." Cassie grinned evilly. That should have been the only sign I needed. Instead, I agreed wholeheartedly and launched into ordering the pizzas while Cassie went to hunt down another bottle of champagne.

An outsider playing pretend in someone else's family. We all gathered around the table. Derek sat at one end. I deliberately chose the opposite end, as far from him as possible. If he noticed, he didn't show it. Sophie explained the rules. Most creative house wins. Dad judges. No sabotaging other people's houses. "That last rule is specifically because of the Great Gingerbread War of 2015," Derek said. "Which we don't talk about." "You started it," Sophie shot back. "I did not. You put gumdrops on my roof when I wasn't looking."

Willow I got that godforsaken video taken down. Bullshit IT guys pretend they know how to do something, then they can’t figure out a password reset to get into THEIR WEBSITE? It’s fine. I’m going to murder Devereux when I see him, though. Fair warning. We’re setting some hard rules next time we get drunk in public. Number one: no Jack. No boys. NO DICKS. I chuckle. Those are good rules. Willow Number two: No boys. Wait, I said that already. But I really mean it.

"So, is this a sign? A thaw in our rather cold relationship? The male fighting for his mate?" "Not hardly. Just remember that this is my house too. I won't put up with shit like that in my own home. You had best make sure that the trash you bring home with you know the rules before you bring them in the door. Rule One is don't fuck with Dave and Rule Two is memorize rule one."

I sniffed in, just once, and the smell of soap, gun oil, and coffee hit my nose almost immediately. My pulse kicked against my throat. He dropped my bag, turned, and slapped a laminated sheet already waiting on the fridge. I followed his gaze to find the most absurd thing I had ever seen in my twenty years of living on this fucked up planet. HOUSE RULES No swearing. Every curse = 10 cane strokes. Address me as Sir or Uncle Gabriel at all times. Eyes down unless I say otherwise. Break these rules and suffer whatever consequences I see fit. “Are you serious?” I asked, studying him carefully. “What do you think this is? Military bootcamp?”

And it stayed between them longer than expected. A few days later, Clyde came home with something tucked carefully under his arm. A drawing. Three stick figures—uneven, imperfect, clearly done with urgency rather than precision. But unmistakable. Katya recognized herself immediately. Ethan beside her. And Clyde in the center. Above it, in large uneven letters, he had written: NO INTERRUPTIONS HOUSE Katya stared at it for a long moment. Then turned to him. “What is this?” Clyde straightened proudly. “It’s the house rule.”

I took it from her, and what I read as the head title made me chuckle. “The rules if we have to continue living in this house together. I want you to know that if either of us breaks those rules, the one who broke them has to pay the other half a billion dollars. Deal?” “Princess, that’s nothing, so deal.” She smirked before she closed the door. I sighed as I looked at the set of rules. ‘Rule number 7: no flirting or seduction.’ I scoffed as I headed downstairs. I was quite certain, and would wager a sum of money, that Camilla would be the first person to violate the established rule.

I replied. Then the maid showed me my room and the guest room. "Madam, the rules of the house are: no one is allowed to enter sir's room without knocking, the rooms at the end of the floor are off limits, no one is allowed to enter them, everyone must have dinner and breakfast together, no one is allowed to talk back to sir." I nodded my head trying my best to remember everything.