Short Imagination Stories & Novels

A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall. My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof. The blizzard knocked out the power. But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party. In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker. But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said. She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde. Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones. He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child. The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest. He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning. Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies. I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones. "If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!" I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.

I'm the female protagonist of a spicy novel. One day, the system tosses me into an innocuous novel to be reformed. What a joke! I turn to the male protagonist. "Hi there. Want to make out?" He has me thrown behind bars and accuses me of molesting him. Much later, he does even naughtier things than the male protagonists in spicy novels do.

After transmigrating into a horror game, I realize I can hear ghosts' inner thoughts. "Oh, look, a human! I need to give her a pet!" "Why can't I touch her? Move! I gotta touch her!" "Humans! She's so tame that she's even letting us pet her!" My inner thoughts scream, "Damn it. Now I feel like a monkey in the zoo."

While I was tangled with my boyfriend in bed, I heard violent thumps coming from the door outside. I opened my eyes in a daze. "Is… Is someone knocking on the door…?" The man nibbled my earlobe, his voice hoarse and slurred, "Must have been the wind, baby…" In front of my eyes, the comments flew past. [Sweetie, look at the man in front of you a little closer, won't you?] [This is hilarious! The MC thought the contract only works one-on-one, but he forgot he had a twin brother from the very same bloodline, haha!] [Heh! Why just one brother if you can have both? She won't have to worry about going hungry ever again. What a lucky girl!] As my brain worked to process the information, a man's trembling roar came from outside the door, "Hyde, you scumbag! Get out here right now!"

To pay off my student loans, I started doing spicy streams online. I never thought I'd actually blow up. Every night, my audience floods the chat, fawning over my face and my body. I love the attention, and I work hard to give them what they want. Until I was dropped into a horror game. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a rotting corpse. And for some reason, my livestream was still running. When the game’s Boss told us all to pick a weapon to die by. The other players all chose to die of old age, or peacefully in their sleep like a baby. I turned my phone to face the boss. "My fans think you're hot," I stammered. "They want me to be killed by... well, by the weapon between your legs. They said 'deeply.' Is that... an option?" The other players whispered among themselves. “This woman must have a death wish.” “Just watch. The Boss is about to tear her to shreds.” But no one expected the Boss to blush.

I ordered an incubus online, but when the package arrived, there were two of them. One was gentle and obedient, the other was hot-tempered and unpredictable. I immediately messaged customer service to ask if they'd sent the wrong one—I had only ordered the gentle kind. The reply came cheerfully. "Congratulations, you've unlocked the hidden variant! This model is a bit special—buy one, get one free!" Wait… what? I remembered hearing people say that raising an incubus is like raising a puppy, only better—they keep you warm at night and don't shed. Well, if that's true, whether I had one or two made no difference. So I ended up paying the price of one and getting two—what a steal! Or so I thought… until I went to feed them. That's when I realized I was the cookie in the middle of a sandwich. Apparently, "keeping me warm at night" was a strenuous activity.

"My incubus has been with me for a month, but he still won't let me touch him. What could be the reason for that?" I type my questions into the customer service feedback form and wait for a reply. The customer service representative replies at once in a very helpful manner. "Dear customer, our incubi are all very eager to stick to their owners like glue! I'm afraid your issue might be due to a malfunction on his end. "We can apply for your incubus to be replaced with a new one instead, and he will arrive in a week." I look at Riven Sterling, the incubus whom I had made tailored specifically to my tastes. After a moment of thought, I decide that maybe I can just wait and observe for a while longer. If he still doesn't change for the better, then I can perhaps send him in for repairs. After all, Riven is just too perfectly aligned with my tastes. I can't bear to give him up. However, at the family dinner, I quickly realize that Riven is having a reaction toward my younger stepsister, Teresa Ashford, who is sitting across from me. It's only then that I recall that Teresa is the one who opened my parcel the last time Riven arrived at the doorstep. That night, I contact the customer service representative again and say, "You said that the new replacement would be arriving in a week, right? Please send it out, then. Thank you."

I'm the most sought-after makeup artist in horror games. Before each round begins, the bare-faced NPCs sit obediently in a row, waiting for me to work my magic. With my makeup skills, they're twice as intimidating to players, and their performance soars. Even the Demon Boss seeks me out. As I face the Demon Boss with all 16 heads and 32 eyes staring at me, the corner of my mouth twitches. "Sure, I can do your makeup, but it'll cost extra."

When I pester Sean Sackman, my childhood sweetheart, for a second time, he rejects me. "I don't have time for you now," he says. "It's Valentine's Day today, and the campus belle just agreed to go on a date with me this afternoon." Just as I am about to pleasure myself, his housemate, Chad Huxley, comes back. Several comments suddenly appear in front of me. "This is hilarious. The second male lead is literally burning with desire when he sees the female lead in her nightrobe. But he still has to hold it in and pretend to be unfazed. He's like a grumpy little puppy!" "I think the female lead should turn to the second male lead instead. Every time she goes to find her childhood sweetheart, the second male lead ends up taking a cold shower. Poor guy." "The second male lead might have an addiction, but he always keeps his hands to himself. Girl, a feast is literally right in front of you. Stop getting hung up on that idiot!" My eyes light up as I stare at Chad. "Can you help me with something?"

It's 11:30 pm. Home alone, I decide to order some takeout. When the map shows the delivery guy is zero miles away, I receive a call from him. I pick up, only to hear unsettling silence from the other end. I hang up, annoyed. The next moment, the guy texts me, "Sorry, I'm hearing-impaired and unable to speak. I called to notify you to pick up your food as soon as possible. I can't explain things over the phone, and I apologize for that." Then comes another text. "You must've been waiting for a long time. I've left your order at your door, so please pick it up as soon as you can." Just as I prepare to open the door, I see bars of live comments—reminiscent of livestream chats—floating right before my eyes. "Don't open the door! That dude isn't a delivery guy at all! He's a murderer!" "He called you to check if you're a woman living alone!" "Seriously, why are all thriller story protagonists always so dumb? The delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she still wants to open the door."

After being chosen by a horror game, I took over a food stall in a small town. A ghoul tried to eat me, his huge, bloody mouth a gaping maw, but I quickly shoved a focaccia sandwich into it. He chewed and then said, “Oh, forget it. With food to eat, I’ll kill her tomorrow.” The next day, I made delicious pierogies, then skewers and stews. All the ghouls who stopped by gave up on trying to kill me, focusing on eating instead. The audience watching me was shocked that I could survive all the way to the end with just my cooking.