This Week's Featured Stories

If you're looking for a laugh, a midday pick-me-up or a dose of inspiration, you'll love our featured stories. You can read three free stories every month by picking from the selection below or by searching through every Chicken Soup for the Soul story ever published using the box to the right. You can also have stories delivered right to your inbox with our free, featured story emails. If you'd like to have unlimited access and be able to choose the perfect story for any moment, sign up for a premium subscription and have the freedom to enjoy any of our 20,000+ stories any time!


Title:

61: Little Black Book

Little Black Book Are we not like two volumes of one book? ~Marceline Desbordes-Valmore “You don’t want to date him,” my ex-boyfriend Joe said. “It won’t work. He’s too predictable. Steady. Why, he probably carries a little black book in his back pocket. A schedule. A life-syllabus.” “He does not,” I said. “I’ll bet he does. I’ll bet it’s a rule book. A rule book on how to do exactly everything in exactly the right way.” “Not true,” I said. We were talking about my new boyfriend, Lonny. Prince Charming. The man I eventually married. And spent the next several years trying to separate from the black book that lived in his back pocket. It’s not a little black book, really. It’s more of a way of doing things. A way of living. It is, well, sort of like a set of rules. The way to do everything, just right. Early in our marriage, this caused some struggle. “Lonny, why is it taking a million years to paint the house?” I asked as I scrunched my toes in the too-long grass and peered up at my new husband, who was dangling, paint brush in hand, from a ladder that was propped against the peeling exterior of our very first home. “There’s a right way to do... (more)
Tired of browsing? Click here for a random story.
Title:

62: Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler. ~Albert Einstein Ever since I was a child, my parents fed my precocious reading ability. The real treat was every Thursday afternoon. My father and I would drive into town to make deliveries for his watch repair business and we would stop at Clay’s News Agency. There, I would always choose the same thing: a coveted copy of The Wall Street Journal. And ever since that childhood, I have been a newspaper hoarder. As a child, each of those newspapers was a precious gift. The articles were written for and about important people — people who’d made something of themselves; people who made decisions and ran the world. I had to savor every succulent morsel of that paper. Even if it would take me the rest of the week, I’d read every article, sometimes three or four times. I’d internalize the business leaders and politicians and all the important decisions they made. I imagined what I would do in each situation, what decisions I would make in each case. As I devoured the contents, I dreamed that one day I would be among the decision-makers of the world. I would leave my parents’ one-horse town and make my mark on society. Each Thursday, when I brought home the latest edition... (more)
Title:

63: Six Parts of a Pot

Six Parts of a Pot It destroys one’s nerves to be amiable every day to the same human being. ~Benjamin Disraeli After dating for eight years, and reaching near-senior-citizen status, we find ourselves married and living together for the first time. It doesn’t take long for our cohabitation incompatibilities to manifest themselves: me, the fastidious, orderly type; him, well… the opposite. A few tête-á-têtes lead us to sharing the household chores, beginning with after-dinner cleanups. The fruits of his labor linger on the dish drainer. Reaching for a washed pot to dry and put away, I see… fruit. Caked onto the outside of the pot. So I ask, “Honey, did you just rinse this pot and set it here so you’d remember to wash it later?” He says, “Oh, no, that’s washed, hon. You can just put it away.” The same conversation takes place night after night. Each time, I think, no way is this cruddy pot going back into the cabinet where it’ll surely breed salmonella and botulism. But not wanting to become a newlywed nag, I hold back my thoughts and rewash the pots — after asking the did-you-just-rinse-this-pot question, thinking he might eventually ask why I’m asking. Weeks later, on an otherwise... (more)
Tired of browsing? Click here for a random story.
Title:

64: My Fortune

My Fortune Tell me what you eat, I’ll tell you who you are. ~Anthelme Brillat-Savarin One of the unspoken “duties” in a good marriage is to be there for your spouse. Whenever I had a work-related social function, my husband accompanied me. He’d smile and make appropriate small talk and I did the same for him. That’s just part of married life. I attended one such event after my husband Frank got a huge promotion at work. His employees loved him and before Frank left for his new position, they wanted to show their appreciation to him for everything he had done for them over the years. The people in his old laboratory decided to take him out for dinner — and they invited me too. I was happy to go. They chose a very authentic Chinese restaurant that wasn’t open to the general public. You had to know someone who knew someone who was friends with someone in order to even make a reservation. One of the people in the lab knew the owner and reserved a table for twenty. The night of the party we arrived at the restaurant right on time. As the guests of honor, we were shown to our table — a table with just a white linen tablecloth on it… no silverware, no plates, no water glasses. Nothing. It was big round table with a Lazy Susan... (more)