Question Stories の小説・ストーリー

Suit pouted childishly at Anderson, and continued, “Do we have a deal, Mr. Anderson?” Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive ten stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation.

Not a perfect story. A human one.

Shayla resisted longer, peppering me with last-minute questions about whether clouds slept and if frogs had birthdays. Lucas waited until the others were settled before speaking quietly. “Can you tell a story?” Something in his tone—hopeful, vulnerable—unlocked a memory deep inside me. “My mother used to tell me stories,” I said softly. “Would you like one of those?” Three heads nodded eagerly. So I began. I told them about the moon that fell in love with the sea but could never touch it, about the brave girl who taught the stars how to sing, about the fox who tricked winter into leaving early.

It was coming from her—my stepmom Sarah—and him—my stepbrother Jake. I lounged on the big sectional couch in the living room, legs stretched out, my nipples already hardening against the thin white fabric of my tank top. No bra. I hadn’t worn one on purpose. The wine had me flushed and bold, my pussy tingling with that slow, forbidden ache I’d been ignoring for months.

“You’re serious? The school saint wants the biggest player on the football team to pop her cherry? That’s a bold ask, Harper.” “I’m serious,” I said, my cheeks burning but my resolve firm. “I know your reputation. I know you’ve been with a lot of girls. That’s exactly why I’m asking you. I want it to be memorable. I want the whole school to know it happened. I want them to stop laughing at me.”

Two Months Later: Emily’s POV It's been two months since the incident. My bruises are starting to get healed. Luckily, my husband didn't notice them as we rarely have sex and he is out of town right now. As I'm recovering, a fear is lingering around. He told me we will fuck after I recover. I'm scared, really very scared, what will Clover do if I refuse him again? Will he punish me, AGAIN? What will he do with me , even if I don't refuse him? Can I trust him? Definitely not , after what he did.

More, and more. End of Book 1

Screaming I closed the door to my room. I waited there in silence. Crying and trembling. What if mommy dies? ”Mommy?!” I whispered from under my covers when somebody entered my room. The smoke made it hard to breathe and the screams of different creatures were so loud like they were next to me. Mommy always told me that, good girls don’t cry. But I couldn’t stop the tears. I want my mommy. I uncovered my face and there was a male. Showing his sharp teeth he approached my bed with a sword in his hands, raising it over my head. But something came out of his chest. A sword. And when he fell I saw mommy. She ran over to me. Soothing my panicked state.

Zahra whispered, not minding to hide the fear in her voice, “But why had they set fifteen huts ablaze?” “I can’t say for sure,” Dodo turned her attention to Zahra, “But my mother told me a story of how the three Kingdoms, after hunting, danced around a campfire. You want to hear the story?” “No,” Zahra and Ginika said in unison. They were not prepared to hear Dodo’s unending tale. She would only end up telling them of how her great, great, great grandmother, told her great, great grandmother and her great grandmother, to her… Her stories usually leave one hungry and light-headed, or it would knock you out.

Who knows what we'll run into? The End