Who Is The Main Character In The Thing On The Doorstep And Other Weird Stories?

What is scarier than someone living in your walls? How about finding out the boy in the walls has seen a monster in there? What will the Count's daughter and her two unusual friends do to protect her home? Rated 12+ for light violence, kissing, sexual reference

Seeing nothing but the bare self of a girl in his kitchen, his thought suddenly went blank, even her grumbling stomach couldn’t get to him. A strange nude girl in his kitchen was something he hadn’t thought he would see in the next hundred years. She was weird, her long unraveled reddish brown hair was covering her face. Her body held, different old and new scars . And when she lift her eyes to look at him. The eyes was something he hasn’t seen before burning in flames. And a mixture of gold and blue. In a flash it swipe to deep sea blue eyes. The mop stick he held fell from his hands, leaving his mouth ajar. “Who are you?” He thought a thief had sneak in here, probably a food thief in his kitchen, but he ended up seeing something else. And she blinked her long and full lashes at him. Innocently. “Who the hell, are you?” He asked, his eyes running up and down her naked body again. He gulped down an invisible lump on his throat. What’s he gonna do? Her stomach growls. And she whined, giving him pleading eyes. He suddenly felt his knee went weak. “What are you doing here?” Was this some kind of nightmare, or what the hell was it?

I found an old quill in an antique shop and decided to buy it since I have always wanted to write with quills. However, as soon as I touched the quill to the paper, I was transported into the book. I wasn't the only one there, though three males who always hide their identities behind masks were in the book with me. They claim the quill belongs to them, and I must return it. Since I refuse, they follow me into every book I go into. One day, I was debating which of my mature books to write when I accidentally spilled the ink onto my book, 1001 Dark Tales. The only way they'll help me out of the book is if I give the quill back, and there is now a fourth. As I go through more of the book with them, I start noticing things. Things I had never planned for in my book, and it concerned me because even though I hadn't written those parts yet, none of the other stories I had used the quill on had ever gone that off track. However, when we tried to leave the book, it wouldn't let us back out. It seems we're stuck in the book until we finish all 1001 Dark Tales.

"Who the hell are you?" "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" A story between two neighbors and an incident that slowly draws them together *Disclaimer* this story has strong language and violence

Living with my aunt and her family was meant to be a temporary, quiet arrangement just helping out and keeping to myself. On the first day of the new year, while everyone else was out celebrating, I stayed home, enjoying the rare silence and catching up on sleep. But when we ran out of water, I reluctantly stepped outside to fetch some, and that’s when I saw him. He stood by the gate of the house next door, effortlessly commanding attention with just a glance. A smirk played on his lips, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes behind his blue-ray glasses. At that moment, he was impossible to ignore. Meanwhile, I felt disheveled and barely awake, my hair was a mess and still shaking off sleep. But he didn’t seem to mind. There was something about him an air of mystery that made me wonder who he was and why he was there. Before I could look away, he spoke, “Hi.” Caught off guard, I managed a quick, “Hi,” while trying to pull myself together. “Can I know your name?” he asked. I hesitated but replied, “I’m Clara,” and kept walking. “Can I have your number?” he called after me. “Just as friends.” I almost refused but reluctantly agreed, entering my number into his phone. “There,” I said, handing it back. “I’ll call you,” he promised with a smile, as I turned to leave. What began as a chance encounter soon became an inexplicable connection. He had secrets, but there was something about him that saw through me, understanding things no one else did. The man I met next door wasn’t just a fleeting stranger,he became the reason I started questioning everything I thought I wanted.

I live double lives, but with one very strict rule: never get involved with the clients. By day, I plan weddings I'll never have. Every bride who calls on me gets the wedding of her dreams. And even though no man's ever wanted to end up with me, watching the joy on my brides' faces is enough. By night, I put on a mask and become the comfort I can't find anywhere else. Just an hour of quiet, honest company for strangers who've run out of people to trust. It's not romance - not even close. But I get my own kind of comfort from it too. Then three men walk into my carefully guarded life, all at once, all determined to break my one rule: one I used to hate, one I'm not allowed to see, and one who's already trouble next door. I have a very terrible feeling I only need to be afraid of one of them - the Stranger in My Bed.