Doodlebob Saying Novels & Stories

Though we've been in love for six years, Arnold Porter, the Chief Legal Officer of the Werewolf Council, has canceled our marking ceremony 66 times. The first time he did so, he claimed that Erna Porter, his adoptive sister, was coughing blood in the middle of her heat. Decked in my gown, I stood in front of the Altar of the Full Moon alone until the moon had disappeared from the skies and everyone had left. The second time the ceremony gets canceled, it was because he suddenly received a message in the middle of the ceremony, saying that Erna was abducted by Rogues. He tore off his robes and shifted into his wolf instantly, rushing to save her, while I was forced to endure the laughter of our guests. Whenever we are to hold a ceremony, Erna will always get into trouble and then seek his help. Finally, when he cancels the ceremony for the 66th time, both my wolf and I give up. I break up with him and leave. Three days after I traverse the borders of the snowy plains riddled with powerful winds that conceal my trace, he seems to go crazy. He sends the elite guard of his pack on a mission just to find me.

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

Belle York, my wife, was pregnant, but on our way back from getting the diagnosis, she said, “I have something to tell you. The baby is Harry’s. I also got a notice saying that my health won’t let me have another baby after this one.” When she saw my smile freeze, she took out a paternity test. Harry Grant, my brother-in-law, was indeed listed as the father. Her voice was eerily calm. “On the day you fell asleep at the back of the jeep with fever, we did it in the passenger seat, right where I’m sitting.” In an instant, I felt like I had fallen into the abyss. I opened my mouth, but it was like something was blocking my throat. As she spoke, Belle cast her eyes on her swollen belly, and every word she spoke next was like needles stabbing into my heart. “If you can’t accept the baby, I’ll abort it, but my uterus will still be badly damaged, and I won’t get pregnant again. I’ve told you the truth now. You decide on whether I get to give birth or not.”

Lyssa was adopted into Zeta’s family when she was a child. Zeta always protected her as an older brother, and over time, Lyssa fell deeply in love with him but never said it to anyone. Later, the grandfather arranged a marriage between them because he believes she’s fit to be Zeta’s wife. Lyssa agreed because she loved Zeta, but she pretended she didn’t so he wouldn’t feel pressured. They have been married for three years, and Lyssa thinks they are building a real life together. On her 25th birthday, she plans to finally tell Zeta she loves him. But when he comes home, he gives her divorce papers, saying his college girlfriend has returned after 5 years of studying abroad and he wants to be with her again. Lyssa realizes she was only a temporary replacement until Isabella came back. Zeta thinks Lyssa never loved him and he feels he was doing her a favour by ending the marriage so she can be free to be with any man of her dreams. This hurts her even more. To find out more, read Fifteen Years of Craving The Wrong Love

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

My wife, Wendy, faked her death and took her younger sister’s identity, and I pretended not to know. I removed her from the position of general manager at the company and went to the police station to cancel her identity registration. In my past life, Wendy’s younger sister, Stacy, died in a car accident. Wendy chose to live as her, only because she could not bear to let Eric, her sister’s husband, become a widower. I confronted Wendy and demanded to know why she was impersonating her sister, but she refused to admit anything. “I understand that losing Wendy hurts, but you cannot treat me as if I’m her just because she is gone.” After that, Wendy spread rumors everywhere, saying I had lost my mind. She claimed that my wife had just died and I was already harboring improper thoughts toward her younger sister. In a short time, I suffered an unprecedented wave of online harassment. In the end, an overzealous netizen stabbed me to death in an alley. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Wendy was preparing to take her sister’s identity.

The first thing I do after getting off the plane is to text my wife, Ella Spencer, that I'm safe and sound. Since I'm too eager to send the text, I end up sending the text to my work group chat. Before I can delete the message, the new HR employee, Dexter Brooks, suddenly calls me on the phone. "You're fired." I question him immediately, "All I did was text the wrong group chat! How does that warrant a dismissal?" Dexter shouts at me immediately, "How dare you send such lovey-dovey messages on the company's group chat! I will not tolerate this behavior in my company!" His statement catches me off guard. "Your company?" Dexter's arrogance kicks up a few notches. "What, are you saying that this is your company? Ms. Spencer is my wife! Her company is naturally mine!" After a moment's silence, I send another text to the work group chat. "Ella Spencer, you must be feeling quite smug now, huh? Not only did you claim that the company is yours, but you also switched your own husband out for someone else."

Someone close once told me that our generation's love knows no bond. It's against all odds as the saying goes to say, strengthening the bent one, and right the wrong. As long as they love each other and were willing to bend rules, that is all that matters.As starters, I was gifted with a 6'4 ft height. Fair glowing skin, sinewy, metallic blue eyes, but most of all, I was dubbed as one of the living proof of the most beautiful man ever to exist in history. I love music that's why I chose to spend my time with my acoustic guitar and a band every night.With that one-of-a-kind gift, I have been with a lot of women, young and old, human or wolf. It is also when I learned how to differentiate between love and lust.I was collecting and picking women at the age of twelve, thinking I could find the right one. Not to boast off my confidence, I broke the Guinness Book of Record, breaking with a hundred and sixty girlfriends in three years.However, I never expected that the kind of love I've been searching for offered from the rest of the wolf and human world. And it all started at this very particular event. The Mating Night.

My mom gave birth to a pair of twins. While I lived with my grandma in the countryside since young, my younger sister, Katrina Coffey, got to live with our parents. I only got to live with my family after I got into a high school in the city. I thought I'd be able to experience what it feels like to be loved by my family. What I didn't know was that this would be the start of my nightmares. My family alienated me, treating me as though I were an outsider. My status was even lower than that of Katrina's dog. Later on, Katrina forcibly stuffed a piece of mango, which I was allergic to, into my mouth. Her excuse was that she wanted to help me get rid of my allergy. I tried to plead with my parents for help with great difficulty, but they merely glanced at me icily. "What's with the complaints? Are you saying that we can't have mangoes anymore because of you from now on?" "What allergy? All you have to do is eat more mangoes, and you'll be fine!" What they didn't know was that people actually die from severe allergies.

On Christmas Eve, our three-year-old daughter, Noelle Gilder, who has cancer, takes a turn for the worse. All she wants is for her mother, Ivana Lance, to dress as Santarina and bring her a gift. I frantically call Ivana, but she impatiently yells into the phone, saying, "Why are you calling me nonstop? I am helping Charles look for Bubbles! Do you really have to make a scene over this? If Bubbles is gone, Charles will be so heartbroken that he will not be able to sleep for days!" Bubbles? So she was looking for the dog of her first love, Charles Larsson! Suppressing my anger, I tell her that Noelle might not survive the night. She laughs disbelievingly, "Mr. Gilder, do not think for a second that I'm not aware that you've spoiled Noelle rotten! If she had not suddenly kicked Bubbles, he would not have run away. Make Noelle apologize to Charles tomorrow." After hanging up, I accompany Noelle as she spends her final Christmas Eve with tears in my eyes. The next day, Ivana publishes a post on Instagram, still looking for the dog. Meanwhile, my post is Noelle's obituary. Ten years of marriage melt away into nothingness like snow.