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	<title>Short Stories Online &#187; short story</title>
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		<title>The Ice Blade</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/12/08/the-ice-blade/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/12/08/the-ice-blade/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 08 Dec 2011 10:05:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Short Stories</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Headline]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Online short Story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2332</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		

Tring…….Tring…….
“Oh! What a bother and that too in the morning,” thought Rohit as he put the alarm on his cell phone back to snooze mode. The holidays had just started for him and yet his mother insisted on him putting up an alarm for eight in the morning, knowing fully well that he was not going to get up so early. He snuggled up to his pillow. However, he found that he was only lazing about on the bed as sleep eluded him. Fed up of lying on the bed ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest Story-Romance Of Painting- The legend of imagination</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/11/08/guest-story-romance-of-painting-the-legend-of-imagination/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/11/08/guest-story-romance-of-painting-the-legend-of-imagination/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 08 Nov 2011 10:13:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Short Stories</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[featured]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2341</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
My eyes were drawn to one of the paintings are displayed neatly in front of me. Today is Thursday, right in the month of August in 2011. I walked to one of a very dark room, my feet stepped on something, I&#8217;m surprised, I turned around and lowered my head, look over there a middle-aged woman who was painting. I&#8217;m confused as to why in this dark room there was a woman who paints only with a speck of light candles in front of him. I did not dare approach ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – Carribean polar bears</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-carribean-polar-bears/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-carribean-polar-bears/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 17 Mar 2011 09:48:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2215</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
I bend over the bar. For her, not for drinks. She says: “Finnish”; and it all starts right there.
“Finnish”, I smile. “Finnish” I wonder and I smile. F-i-n-n-i-s-h, I let it drup in, drup, drup,
drup, letter for letter.
“Lapland”, I think;
“Cold”;
“Foreign affairs” (I just read an article that mentioned the Finland model, questioning myself
what that could be);
“Somewhere north”;
“Cold”?!;
“Bears”? No, no bears I believe, and I smile.
I take another sip of my Friday eve beer. It’s a pity for those bears, I like bears. Maybe I
should go to Greenland and find some ...]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-carribean-polar-bears/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – Almond eyes without oven</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-almond-eyes-without-oven/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-almond-eyes-without-oven/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 17 Mar 2011 09:47:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[featured]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2204</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
Laetitia is wearing colorful socks, a bit like mine, but wilder. Women have more choice when it comes to socks. Women have more choice in general. Her socks are pinky with yellow and green spots. I noticed those colors immediately, I’d describe them as bright little monsters devouring the pink. I am sure she disagrees with that statement. She ‘d call them cute little things. She is a girl. We disagree a lot, and often. Yet I fall about those raised eyebrows on her face, over and over. She chuckles, ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – The weight of the piano</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-%e2%80%93-the-weight-of-the-piano/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/17/guest-story-%e2%80%93-the-weight-of-the-piano/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 17 Mar 2011 09:20:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2210</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
She plays, ten fingers running up and down the ivories, filling the audience room with music. She sits straight, very straight, it is part of the technique. I feel a smile growing on me, stupidly happy, as if I am still surprised to find us here, almost every day for weeks now. I just love this moment: her piano on stage, Eline totally drawn in herself, that very same spotlight, the empty chairs, and me, watching from the silent dark. It is like a movie, and I feel part of ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – A matter of communication</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/15/guest-story-a-matter-of-communication/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/15/guest-story-a-matter-of-communication/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 15 Mar 2011 11:10:35 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[featured]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Humor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short romantic story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story book]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2194</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
‘Pay attention to me when I’m talking,’ she raged.
Her husband flung his hands from the steering wheel in disgust. ‘Want us to have an accident?’
‘You do know her!  Admit it!’
He stopped at a red light.
‘I’m so so sad,’ his new wife flicked long fingers up to her eyes to wipe away the tears that had started falling.  ‘‘You swore you loved me.’
‘Of course I love, you I married you didn’t I,’ he reassured.
The lights turned green and he continued driving.
‘But you’re still seeing her.  Her with the too tight skirts ...]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/15/guest-story-a-matter-of-communication/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story – The rose garden</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/15/guest-story-the-rose-garden/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/15/guest-story-the-rose-garden/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 15 Mar 2011 09:00:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story book]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2181</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
I heard her voice. I turned my head toward the main entrance door, attempting to identify where the voice was coming from. She spoke again.
“It’s my mother!” I exclaimed, racing to the door, as my husband remained on the couch, confused.
I was excited as I realized my mother had come to visit. I opened the door. She was on the front yard. She seemed in no rush to come in the house. She was too entertained with the unkempt rose bushes that had grown everywhere about the yard.
Mom! I approached ...]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2011/03/15/guest-story-the-rose-garden/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>10</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Goodbyes – Christmas special story</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/22/goodbyes-christmas-special-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/12/22/goodbyes-christmas-special-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 22 Dec 2010 06:53:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[christmas stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[christmas love story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fantasy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[romantic story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2134</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
It was Christmas again when the streets were covered with snow. And, everywhere you turned, things looked pristine white. Dana loved Christmas time. She thought Christmas was magical, and secretly believed in Santa Claus. She loved the colorful lights, Xmas trees, and the snow fall. It made everything even more beautiful!
Most importantly, Dana felt loved and treasured for it was the time when everyone showed how much they cared. Friends and relatives showered gifts on you too. And Dana knew that if you were lucky, your beloved would show you ...]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The happyness loop – gift a short story</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/11/03/the-happyness-loop-gift-a-short-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/11/03/the-happyness-loop-gift-a-short-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 03 Nov 2010 07:22:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short online stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=2051</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
Playing an agony aunt, and solving other peoples’ problem is no easy task. Ask Sarika! &#8211; The wise 22 year old.  She knows everything and as well…if you may, ‘better than anybody else.  At first she was reluctant about the very idea of social networking. According to her, the cyber space just didn’t suit her style of interaction. What she preferred more was, ‘real’ people.
“Internet is for lazy people like you, Sunita!” She once said teasing her elder sister.
Her elder sister was less social than she was and preferred it ...]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/11/03/the-happyness-loop-gift-a-short-story/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Guest story &#8211; I find my inspiration in myself</title>
		<link>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/09/06/a-guest-story-i-find-my-inspiration-in-myself/</link>
		<comments>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/09/06/a-guest-story-i-find-my-inspiration-in-myself/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Sep 2010 06:10:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writer1</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[guest stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[non-fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short stories online]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story book]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.shortstorybook.net/?p=1502</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
			
				
			
		
The day started off with my usual Aerobics class which I conduct in my house, and cooking and another set of Rope jumping for 30 minutes for my self, accompanied with some weight training and stretches. Husband says lets go pick up the curtains for our bedroom, (we have just moved into our new house) and we leave, finish shopping , have lunch in the house and after clearing up, I lie down to rest, for it is the month of February, very hot.
I doze off, and get up to ...]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/09/06/a-guest-story-i-find-my-inspiration-in-myself/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>22</slash:comments>
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