Unspeakable Water Bottle Novels & Stories

I kicked Malachi painfully under the table when he wanted to open the bottle of water. “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” I said to him and he gave Cade a look. Cade gave him a firm nod. “What's going on?” Malachi finally asked. “The water for this table has been tainted,” I said,

Sebastian said as he stepped closer. Alethea turned and just now noticed that, indeed, there was a sealed bottle of mineral water on the nightstand. But even if she had seen it earlier, she wouldn't have dared to open it, assuming it belonged to Sebastian. "Open it and drink," he ordered. Alethea nodded and grabbed the bottle, realizing just how thirsty she was. The sound of plastic tearing and the crack of the bottle's seal breaking filled Sebastian's ears. In the silence of the room, even the sound of Alethea swallowing as she drank was clearly audible. Sebastian's lips curled slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Dominik returned the second empty bottle on the table and wiped the remnants of alcohol with the back of his hand before standing up and leaving. But he didn't take ten steps before he staggered and luckily supported himself on a pillar. Malachi smirked, his emerald eyes falling on the bottle’s logo; a human skull with bones across it where words written on it read, ‘Poison 101’.

Liam grabbed an empty bottle and hurried to the water dispenser nearby. He filled the bottle quickly and rushed back to the tent. In his haste, he didn't notice someone walking in front of him and bumped into them, causing his water bottle and the other person's phone to fall. Since the cap of the bottle wasn't screwed on properly, water spilled all over the phone. "NO!" "FU*K!" they exclaimed simultaneously, glaring at each other in frustration.

Lita put on a pitiful expression again, "You are my sister. How can I kill my sister?" She turned her hand upside down and used her index finger and thumb to pinch the thing she had just taken out of her pocket. It was a small tea colored glass bottle. The bottle's body was made of glass. The liquid inside was shaking. Because the bottle was of tea color, I couldn't tell the color of the liquid inside. There was a layer of plastic wrap between the lid and the bottle. It seemed such a design was to prevent the liquid from being spilled out. What is that?

God, I’m becoming a pervert. His cough brought me back from my not-so-dinner-worthy thoughts. I looked up to find his beautiful grey eyes watering as he stood up and took the water bottle from me. Actually, he snatched it to be accurate. As soon as he took the sip, his eyes widened comically and he spit out the water on the rug. “Fûck! I forgot it was hot!”

This is one thing about crying, my nose would probably keep running till the end of today. And FTR, I am an ugly crier. "Just drink." He sighed out before dropping the water between my tights. I rolled my eyes as I picked up the water, glaring at the cold plastic in distaste. Why's this bottle so ugly anyways? It's probably ugly like my face right now. Bleh. I tipped the bottle over in my mouth, gulping down a little of the water before dropping it down on the counter beside me, wiping my lips of the few drops of water that escaped the sides of my lips.

"Oh my goodness, I see why it's the most ordered milkshake. Thank you so much for getting me this meal, honey; you're the best." As they continued eating, Marianne suddenly felt cramps and held her tummy tight. "I don't think the baby agrees with this meal as much as I do," she whispered and ran to the hallway restroom to vomit. Greg followed her, and when she saw blood, her biggest fear came to light. "We need to go to a clinic now...!" she yelled, got up quickly, and started preparing, but everything turned pitch black, and she was completely unconscious.

Give your captain some space for the trophy ceremony! As the wild festivities came to a halt, Harris's florid mug emerged, decorated with a paternal grin of such unashamed love and pride that it temporarily alleviated Caleb's nagging existential dread. "Well I'll be triple-banded," the craggy war dog of a coach grumbled in his signature gravel growl, "but it appears I have in my possession a certain hunk of metal meant to commemorate the return of an empire to its ruling class." The extended "State Memorial Trophy" gleamed under the high beams, as if it had just been fashioned from the cosmos' burnished center. Even the slightest reflection off the engraved chalice felt like a laser etching

The image of her collapsing on the field after drinking from my poisoned water bottle flashes through my mind. “Cassie,” I say carefully. “Don’t you ever think about the day they poisoned my water? Doesn’t it make you nervous to drink from water bottles now?” Cassie pauses with the bottle halfway to her mouth. “I think about it all the time,” she admits. “Every time I take a drink, I remember the taste of whatever they put in that water and how sick it made me feel.” “Then why do you keep drinking from bottles? Aren’t you scared it might happen again?”