Romans & histoires Will You Tell Me A Story

"What do you guys want to talk about? I think we still have twenty more minutes, and I've stated enough about my friend." "Got any stories to tell? I think I'm fed up with the love story of a water fairy," Jai said, looking at the sky. Darrion laughed loudly after Jai said that. "Hmm... What about the Tale of the White Lady?" Naoki offered. "The White Lady?" Jai asked. "What kind of story is that? I've never heard of it," Darrion added.

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.

What should I say? ** END OF FIRST STORY, MORE STORY COMING UP SOON.. STAY TUNED...

“Why isn’t mama telling the story? She is the one who says it at night. Why is she not here?” I exhaled slowly, because every question felt like another weight pressing down. Another answer I didn’t want to give, an answer that I couldn’t. I brushed her hair back gently, keeping my movements steady. “It’s going to be okay,” I said instead. “I am the one who will be telling you the stories from now on. Can that work for a while?” It was not an answer. Just… something that they can hold onto. A hope that they can think about as children, something that they can try to understand; even if it wasn’t enough of an answer.

she points out. “Umm, how about I tell you my favourite tale?” I offer, not knowing what Knox could have possibly told Arabella but I don't intend on contradicting it at all.

Hazel said. “Of course my princess.” I replied and then started telling her the story that I have told her a million times now, the story that my aunty would tell to my cousins to put them to sleep when they were younger, the story that I would hide at the corner of my cousins Brynn and Brian’s room just to listen to.

“Enough. Time to sleep.” “But I can’t sleep! Tell me a story, Sir, please.” She looked at me with those wide, pleading eyes. I couldn’t recall the last time anyone had asked me for a story. I’d heard of parents doing this for their children, but I’d never seen myself in such a role. Begrudgingly, I indulged her with the simplest tale I could think of: “Once upon a time, there was a mountain…” “That’s not enough. Tell me more,” she protested, wriggling around again.

Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. Two years later, I was pregnant again. Time seemed to have passed by so quickly. Sometimes Horace would ask me, "How many years do I have left?" See? He was sharp, too. Just because he didn't ask often didn't mean he couldn't sense something was off. When he asked, I'd answer, "Only tomorrow. You should hurry up. When you're gone, I'll use your money to fill the house with young men. You know I could do it, right?"

Hopefully. "I will tell you. It's a long story." --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

I'll just call him when he have time tomorrow. [ Why don't y- ] [Hey, why don't you share some stories?] [Stories? I'm not really familiar with stories, I also don't read always so I can't] [ I see, then, why don't you tell me some stories about yourself? It's better to listen than those fairy tales. ]