Formula 1 Short stories

  • Genre： Other
  • Author： River
  • Translator：
  • Status： Complete

  • Rating(4.3 / 5.0) ★

So HEY! This is just going to be a bunch of random short stories and scenarios that I have though of and decided to write. REQUESTS CLOSED Enjoy!? My favourite rankings: #19 in formula1 #18 in mclaren #68 in ocstory #3 in alexalbon #2 in georgerussell #5 in landonorris #7 in charlesleclerc

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Popular Reviews

  1. GrandM3244
    GrandM3244 rated it
    I'm not the biggest sup of the MC but except for that, a really well written Story with a big World Background!
    0 0 Reply
  1. LoneclownYa
    LoneclownYa rated it
    Author's note: Hello, everyone. I hope you're having a great day. I just want to let you know that I aim to respect everyone in this novel. I do not intend to disrespect anyone's beliefs, country, or race. Therefore, there will be no mention of religions or racism in this novel. Everyone is welcome to join in, and I have made an effort to make it easier for you to decide if this novel is your cup of tea or not by the end of Chapter 7. I wish everyone a great day.Sneaking a 5-star over here nvm, XD.
    0 0 Reply
  1. Damaker
    Damaker rated it
    A journey
    0 0 Reply
  1. Deltta
    Deltta rated it
    Who would it be? Tell me in the comments. The next part will be based on the comment.
    0 0 Reply
  1. EvanYudistiro
    EvanYudistiro rated it
    "Daddy! Where.. is.. My.. Mommy?!" Samar asked hesitantly, in a soft voice.
    0 0 Reply
  1. Nathan547
    Nathan547 rated it
    "Sorry, What's that. You're gonna have to be louder." Arthur stood up and studied Chris who was now in the fetal position. The people watched in horror as Arthur did a full power spinning kick straight into Chris's spine. Multiple cracks and crunches as Chris screamed in pain and his legs went limp.
    0 0 Reply
  1. A4KLQDv
    A4KLQDv rated it
    Feng Chen groaned.
    0 0 Reply
  1. GoldenHeir
    GoldenHeir rated it
    I think perhaps you chastised me in my dreams last night.  It began with Holmes.  I was searching for him throughout the shabby field hospital, amongst the wounded – and finally, amongst the dead.  I looked at that long row with their feet all exposed because their meager blankets had been pulled up to cover their faces.  I felt a deep, anxious, certainty that Holmes was dead.  A wealth of fear and premature grief as deep as when I ran up that steep path at Reichenbach, having found my errand a hoax.  But when I pulled down that first rough woolen shroud, it was your wide mute eyes that accused me.  My unthought-of wife lying on the damp ground looking as you did in your coffin.  Wasted and worn by illness as those boys were from war.  Those whip-thin and haunted youths that I had all but forgotten.  Why was I looking for Holmes and finding you?  Perhaps I am finding the depth of my love for you at last.  Like Hamlet, finding it too late.
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