The Cider House Rules Novels & Stories

Well, other than frown, I almost let out a chuckle to be honest. Rules of the household 1.) Don't enter my room (Cypher Kurt) 2.) Don't ever touch my things 3.) Don't ever put the name 'Cypher Kurt' in shame 4.) Don't ever defy Cypher Kurt 5.) Don't ever tell anyone that we're married 6.)No physical contact 7.) Mind your own business. 8.) Don't ever tell anyone about this 9.) You're going to cook 10.) If Mom and Dad are here we will sleep in the Master's bedroom

“I know that now, and even if she did send you just to mock me, it would still have been a mistake nonetheless. That woman didn’t understand my rules. The presence of male companions isn’t my issue. It’s the loud sex that I hate so much.” Will cleared his throat. “Um, I understand your point, Ms. Miller. So… What are the rules?” “Rule number one: you can’t bring in your boyfriend or girlfriend or anyone you could potentially have sex with. Rule number two: no swearing, shouting, or making any loud noises. Rule number three:, drugs and alcohol are strictly not allowed. Rule number four: no dogs or any animals inside the house,” Una rapped. “Rule number five…” Will waited and noticed how Una b

Great idea. Of course, my new playroom is a cellar - ideal for storing wine, and I made sure it was well stocked. Michael checks the store cupboard, cocking a brow at me as he sees how much I put in there. Humming as he does so, he inspects a couple of labels, chooses a bottle. As he pours, he's thoughtful. Each with a glass, we enjoy the moment as we take a gradual descent to reality. Michael swishes wine around his mouth, then, "Charlotte. You trip out too easily. And then, you don't use your safe words.... So, there are going to be rules, and the two of you will abide by them...."

I put it on speaker, dread pooling in my stomach. “Zira,” Marcus said, voice silky and venomous. “Congratulations on finding an ally. But I still hold the final card. One last video. The one where you begged Tristan to ‘ruin his professor’ while he fucked you on your desk. I’ll release it at midnight unless you agree to my terms.” Tristan’s jaw clenched so hard I heard it crack. Marcus continued. “One night with me. No cameras. No recordings. You give me what you gave him. In return, I delete everything. Tristan keeps his scholarship. Your father gets peace. Refuse… and I burn you both to the ground.”

"You mean business in the early morning, right? Why else rush off?" The crowd stirred again. "I agree! It'll be morning soon anyway. I get it, Cici!" "Come on, tell us all about it!" I was a little surprised. They all seemed tipsy—probably a bit too drunk. Claire flushed bright pink and tugged on my hand, ready to leave. Her friends didn't stop her. They waved goodbye, laughing in their drunken joy. Then a man suddenly stood up and glared at me. "Wait. Since when are you seeing a man, Cici? And how could you forget our rules? Anyone who brings their partner here has to drink at least once." His voice was loud and filled with hostility. Everyone turned their attention to him.

“Tempting. But you deserve the wedding you want, not the one everyone else is planning.” Before Aria could answer, Caelum jumped onto a chair. “Attention, everyone. Wedding rules.” The room went quiet. Cedric muttered, “This should be good.” Caelum held up his paper. “Rule one: Grandpa Shawn is not allowed to cry.” Shawn frowned. “I wasn’t planning to.” “You will,” Caelum said. Laughter broke out. “Rule two: Super Grandpa Orion has to smile.” Orion lifted a brow. “I do smile.”

Thankfully, it is empty. As I look around, I notice it isn’t merely empty; it looks unlived in. “Don’t you have a roommate?” He smiles, but the smile resembles pain, not joy. “Nope.” Everyone has to have a roommate. It’s one of Aton’s rules that no one should be alone. I can only grunt, “Hmm.” I pluck the bottle from his grip, setting it on the table. The photo of me and Timothy kissing flashes in my mind, accusingly, and I push it away.

“These are the rules, Rule one: You are subjected to me whether you like it or not because you owe me. Rule 2: You should be awake very early to serve breakfast. Rule 3: You are not permitted to leave this house under any circumstances. Rule 4: You address me properly as Sir Marcello. Rule 5: Henceforth, you are to attend to me; serve my meals, answer even if it's not convenient. My eyes narrowed, my ears were getting full from the rules, yet he still went on. Rule 6: You will not talk back or question my orders Rule7: Disobedience will have consequences and I will decide what those are. “Do you understand?” He asked, authoritatively. I sniffled back the anger that was growing in my chest. H

“Classic Mom.” “You’re twenty, Ivy,” she said tightly. “You’re not cute. You’re not interesting. You’re a liability.” “Wow,” I said. “Touching.” “If you want to stay in this house, there will be rules.” “Oh, I can’t wait.” Her eyes sharpened. “Don’t bring boys here. Don’t sneak out. No parties. No mess. No drama.” “So I should probably stop talking to you?” “I swear to God—” “I’m joking,” I said, tossing my keys into the glass bowl on the console. “Mostly.”

Her hands left the kind of neatness that felt like attendance, an evidence of ownership. I learned the rules without instruction. Some were obvious, shoes removed at the gate, praise reserved for elders, but others were smaller, and their weight surprised me. Dishes were to be rinsed the moment a plate left a mouth; towels never dried on the bed; visitors who came after dusk must be greeted in the living room, never the courtyard. Each tiny decree looked harmless until I layered one upon the other until I could feel pressure building in the seams of my day.