Unscramble Alcohol Novels & Stories

Gertrude screamed out of joy. “Whisky? What type of name is that to give to wine? It’s rubbish!” I protested. “Loosen up a bit, will you? This is mankind’s newest. This is called Whisky. It’s not wine, it's alcohol.” “An alcohol?” I asked with a puzzled look on my face. “Yes, Alcohol! One needs to drink thirty bottles of wine to get drunk, but alcohol? You just need two or three glasses of alcohol and you’ll be long gone,” Gertrude praised the weirdly named wine.

And there it was, a bottle of wine, beckoning me with its promise of temporary oblivion. I knew deep down that alcohol didn't sit well with me, but in that moment, I needed it more than ever. I wanted to drown out the pain, to silence the thoughts that tormented me. So, without hesitation, I uncorked the bottle and took long, desperate gulps, savoring every drop as it burned its way down my throat.

Wes' head pounded as if he had spent the night in the bottom of a bottle of his best scotch, and as he stretched, the bottle he forgot he drank fell from the bed, landing on the floor with a loud crack. He rolled over, his body groaning as he did, and stared down at the dark brown bottle. Or rather, at the pile of dark brown bottles. It took a lot of alcohol to get a shifter drunk, and from what he saw on the floor, he drank a lot of alcohol last night.

Zack's mum asked, "Tomorrow morning" the doctor replied, "Thank you," Zack's mum says, "Does he take alcohol?" the doctor asked, "Yes, but I don't want him to take alcohol again" Zack's mum replied, "Your desires required him to take alcohol" the doctor replied, "at least, you want grandchildren," the doctor says "Okay, I got your message, don't worry, I will get his type of drink before he arrived," Zack's mum says, "that is good, I will take my leave," the doctor says and he left Zack's mum's house, and he returned to his hospital,

Her focus was retrained as his reflection past across the glass bottles, his image changing color with each bottle he reflected through. She straightened her spine as she stood to examine the bottles closer. She grabbed two glasses off the self to her right before turning her attention towards the alcohol bottles. Scotch, Grey Goose vodka, Tequila, even a bottle of what looked like Absinth. Runa was unsure of what was good so she thought to play it safe with a bottle of Jack Daniel's. She leaned down to look in Ciaran's mini fridge for a coke. She grabbed a can and noticed a keypad on the back of the fridge, her curiosity spiked though she closed the door and returned to the drinks she'd bee

I exclaimed with delight. "Thank you." "What did you put it?" I asked "I whipped up some drinks with a mix of ingredients, including ice, cilantro, and whatever leftover wine I found in the fridge." "Is that wine alcoholic?" I curiously asked. "Nah, it's Austin's, so I'm pretty sure it's non-alcoholic. He's been off alcohol for a while now." "Good for him," I said taking another sip of the drink. "What do you mean by that?" He asked with a bit of laughter in his voice

He kept his unblinking stare. Ana shot back. "Why're you drinking alcoholic drinks with alcoholic percentage lower than your age? Drink something like pure rum or brandy or vodka." "No thanks, I don't drink vodka. And I like cocktails." Albert emphasized, “And you, aren't you driving home?" She looks past her shoulder and shoots a daze towards his eyes accompanied by a side-smile that would drive anyone insane. "Not if you drive me."

She said, and then tries to take the bottle of alcohol from him. "No! Leave my alcohol alone. You.. you are free! to go to your boyfriend's house, and take.. take.. take.. his bottle of alcohol... away. But don't you... you... you.. dare, take mine away." He stuttered in his drunken state, his eyes glaring at her. Alicia shaked her head disgusted, by his attitude. How come she never knew her best friend, had this side of him. How come she had never seen this part of him.

"Molotovs." We get to work. It’s frantic, messy labor. I grab the bottles—vodka, whiskey, rum. Anything with a high alcohol content. Zara grabs the tablecloths—the pristine white linens Andreas laid out for his treason. Riiiip. The sound of tearing fabric cuts through the shouting. "Pour half out," I instruct, grabbing a bottle of 151 rum. "We need room for the gas expansion. Stuff the rag in tight." The smell of alcohol fumes fills the small space behind the bar, stinging my eyes. It mixes with the copper scent of blood and the dry dust of pulverized drywall.

I can't break. I need a distraction anything please. As my eyes darted around the crowded party, and soon landed on the drinks Alcohol I couldn't resist the siren call of the alcohol table. The clinking bottles and swaying cups seemed to beckon me closer. My hand trembled as I reached for a bottle of whiskey, pouring myself a generous glass before downing it in one gulp.