Bottle Stories - Alfredoxrock - Wattpad

Story cover for Bottle Stories by Alfredoxrock

Bottle Stories

OKUNANLAR 42
Oylar 0
Bölümler 3
Süre 36m

OKUNANLAR 42
Oylar 0
Bölümler 3
Süre 36m

On a warm morning in mid-December, I was walking on the sands of Kenai Beach, Alaska. While I was lost on my thoughts, a tiny bristle draw my atention to a glass bottle half-buried in the sand. At first glance, it appeared to have a letter inside. I pulled out my swiss knife and removed the cork. To my surprise, it was more than a letter. A beautiful story written by a mysterious person somewhere in the world. Date was unknown, this inspired me to write my own stories, put them in a bottle and throw them at the sea for someone else to find it and enjoy a good reading.Tüm hakları saklıdır

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İçerik Rehberi

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You thought he was dead, the police thought he was dead, everyone thought he was dead, and it was your fault. You had only ever wanted to belong. You wanted friends, you wanted to be cared about, and you found that. Only, you found it in a cult that spat you out and left you to fend for yourself, just as they had to 𝙝𝙞𝙢.

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The girl, who found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, experienced a stroke of misfortune. Following this incident, she was drawn into a world completely foreign to her, where she struggled to adapt to her new life. I was face to face with death. I knew it. I hadn't even realized when his hand had grasped mine. Fear overshadowed all my senses. But after what felt like an eternity, I finally felt my wrist. He was gripping it so tightly that blood could no longer flow to my hand. As I lowered my head to look at the hand clutching my wrist, he used his other hand to grab my chin, turning my face toward his. Then, he pressed his lips to mine. I stood frozen for a moment. Then, I let myself go. For a fleeting instant, he seemed to let himself go too. And then, just like that, he was gone. In an instant, he had vanished. The hand gripping my wrist, the lips pressing against mine-gone. And I was left standing there, completely stunned. It felt as though I had forgotten my own name. I started to tremble. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed to the ground. Sitting there, shaking in shock, I finally understood what he was.

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The letters had strangely stopped from my long-time American pen pal, until I got another letter to explain the sad reason why. Devastated to learn that Sara had tragically died, I could only mourn her untimely death and her faraway loss. Now, the long-distance letters have slowly began to arrive back through my door, just as they used to before. They are now coming from the brother of Sara...the one who first wrote to me about the truly sad passing of his sister. One word at a time, this man is beginning to intrigue me. One word at a time, he is making me want to read more from him. But Cary Dean lives in New England, and I live by the sea in Dorset. I can't let him intrigue me. I can't want to read more of his words. I'm Rosa Summers - a hopeless romantic who is totally hopeless with all things romantic, and yet, Cary Dean is managing to write his way deep into my heart, and with Christmas just around the corner, I can't let my silly heart run away with itself. Christmas is all about kindness and laughter. It's about sharing goodwill and spreading joy.... it's not about falling for someone I can't ever be with. But the magical spirit of Christmas... well, let's just say it has other ideas! A KISS UNDER THE KISMET TREE Published by K B Mallion Copyright © 2018 K B Mallion

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She always wanted to write letters to strangers. She wanted them to be old fashioned, like those messages in bottles or the ones written with inked quills. The anonymity of it all seemed so delightful, the girl would tell them her stories and they would do the same in return. They'd never meet and hear each other's voices but they'd learn many new things together. It was supposed an innocent idea, leaving a letter on a tree for a stranger to see - so why was he so keen on following her?

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Imagine a box. Any box you want. It could be a vintage chestnut chest imported from France, or a simple moldy cardboard box. Either way, it serves the same purpose, being shoved away in the corners of your dusty attic, with a variety of miscellaneous forgotten treasures. You never realise it's up there, abandoned in the thick coating of dust and neglect, until one day, it's all gone. It's always gone just when you discover that its contents may have been key to uncovering the troubled past of that box. But how much would it matter? How far would you go to retrieve the lost broken reveries? My name is Sea. It's a strange name, I know, especially since I can't recall ever being near a sea, but my folks have always been rather strange people. At least, from what I can remember. I've never really known them, but my whole life has been formed around their existence. The things I have learned from them could be looked at as troubled lessons of the world I lived in, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. However, accepting that fact could only be the beginning. This is all that I had gained from my life, and everything my parents gave me. This is all that they had left behind.

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Slide 1 of 10

ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ ᴍᴇ (ᴇᴊ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) cover

A Kiss Under The Kismet Tree cover

Offenderman x female!reader {Book 1} cover

Letters To You // Eyeless Jack x Reader cover

Peter pan's lost girl cover

Male Survivor Reader X Female Creepypasta cover

Creepypasta Lemons cover

ALL THAT WAS LEFT BEHIND cover

ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ ᴍᴇ (ᴇᴊ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

You thought he was dead, the police thought he was dead, everyone thought he was dead, and it was your fault. You had only ever wanted to belong. You wanted friends, you wanted to be cared about, and you found that. Only, you found it in a cult that spat you out and left you to fend for yourself, just as they had to 𝙝𝙞𝙢.

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