Write A Story Novels & Stories

Back then, I told myself they were just like family, so there was no need to get jealous. However, all those little signs I had ignored played back in my head, over and over. When she came back, we launched our design studio. I landed a whale of a client, a deal that put us on the map overnight. On the night of our big bash, I had one too many and wanted her to pick me up. I called over and over, but got nothing. Finally, a coworker ended up driving me home. The morning after, she came to me with puffy, red eyes, spilling the story of how Yoel was heartbroken, how he had drowned his sorrows in booze at the bar, and how she had stayed with him through the night.

The possibility crystallized in my mind: what if Nadira was also from my world? She had mentioned how fortunate she felt that Julian finally chose her after years of waiting. Such specific knowledge suggested she understood this story's trajectory far better than I did. 'Damn it, I should have read the original story more carefully instead of skipping ahead,' I cursed myself. 'If I had paid attention to every detail, I could have prevented this catastrophe.' Before I could spiral further into self-recrimination, a familiar figure suddenly appeared at the bus stop…

Every story has a beginning, some good, some bad, mine has never been a happy one, no matter who, or how I tell it, nobody will believe me. I can't rely on the people in my life, My parents ignore me, or are cruel to me, my friends are unreliable, and aren't trustworthy either. So what happens when I turn 16 years old, and run away from my problems to another world, only to find myself in the same magical world I played make belief in as a kid? With heartbreak at every turn, and a possible new relationship on the horizon, what could possibly go wrong in this world that hasn't happened to me on Earth?!

I could hear Athena’s laughter. I tried to stabilize my emotions. One day, he would love me. He would understand that I loved him so much and that I was his wife. I knocked. The laughter didn’t die down, but no one responded. I pushed the door open and said, “The food is ready.” And I was greeted by the sight of them embracing. He was feeding her fruit, and she was giggling, touching his chin. My hands were shaking. I was boiling inside, but I still timidly said, “I made something for you.”

She showed me how to make the story come alive, how to make it breathe, how to make it matter. I wove and wove, my paws moving through the threads with growing confidence. Finally, the story was complete. I looked at the Story Weaver. "What now?" "Now you share it. You tell it to the wolves of Silvermoon. You let it become part of their existence." I gathered the wolves in the great hall. "I have woven a new story," I said. "A story about love. A story about endurance. A story about the connections that bind us together."

Not that I don’t like them or I’m being rude, I just learned something when I saw my female classmates bullying someone just for being friendly. Through all the introductions above you might think that I am a lonely highschool girl but actually I'm not (except to the fact that I don't really have any friends in real life). "Ohayō gozaimasu,my babies. Megasameta bakari de, gakkōniiku hitsuyō ga arimasu. Watashi wa mada anata-tachi to hanashitai nodesuga, watashi wa hotondo okurete imasu. Sayōnara," (I just woke up and I need to go to school. I still want to talk with you guys but I'm almost late. Good bye.)

Laura: I’ve always been good at pretending. At school, I’m the quiet girl who gets straight A’s and smiles politely when teachers praise me. At home, I’m Daddy’s little helper—setting the table, folding laundry, saying “yes, sir” when he asks me to do something. But inside my head? It’s a different story. Lately, the thoughts won’t leave me alone.

I rolled over and grabbed my journal from the floor. I told myself I was going to write about what happened today. About how Lane saw through me. About how it made me feel exposed, vulnerable, disgusting. But that’s not what came out. Instead, I wrote a story. A scene. A fantasy. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I was already halfway through describing how he stood up from his chair in his office , walked right straight to me, and pinned me to the wall. His mouth found mine like he couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands undressed me with a quiet kind of urgency, as he plunges his dick into my pussy.

Why does she feel like a stranger when she stares at the busy street of Athens, she wants to be like one of them and without learning their language, she will never be one of them. Lucky her, Hussain did try to teach her but damn, the language was not as easy as she thought it will be. She could only get the basic things like please and thank you. "What are you thinking about my love?" Hussain asked kissing the crock of her neck. That was her weak point and he knew it but he decided to be using it against her.

She assured me that everything will go as planned nothing will spoil our plan, I needed to hear those words I desperately needed someone to tell me that everything is going to be alright, I need to find myself in Mercy's arms. I could not concentrate at work, I just packed my files and headed home, as soon as I was standing at the door I contemplated whether to go inside or just drive around, what am I going to say when I walk in, how do I stop the pending doom, I finally decided to face her, looking in her eyes and lie is hard now It is harder.