قصص قصيرة Imagination وروايات

Six months into my pregnancy, I heard my baby's cry for help. 'Mommy, save me. Please, do the C-section early. I have a congenital breathing condition. If you don't get me out now, I'll suffocate.' I listened to my baby's desperate pleading, gritted my teeth, and agreed to an early cesarean. In the end, my daughter and I both died. Right before I went, I heard the doctor say, with real regret, that the baby had been perfectly healthy. There'd been nothing wrong with her at all. When I opened my eyes again, I was pregnant once more, and once again I heard my baby crying for help. Only this time, another voice answered—soft and sweet, like a much younger child. 'Mommy, don't believe that voice. They want you to deliver early so they can give my umbilical cord blood to his illegitimate son. That boy has a blood disease, and without cord blood this month, he'll die. That's the only reason that lowlife husband of yours is so desperate to rush you into labor.'

When I found out about Kenneth Hale, I didn’t argue with Claire O’Neill. I simply handed her the divorce papers. Her eyes turned red as she sat there. After struggling with the decision for a moment, she tore them up. "Give me ten days. I’ll send Kenneth far away, and he’ll never appear in our lives again." So over the next ten days, Claire went whitewater rafting with him, climbed snow-covered mountains, bungee jumped, and went skydiving. They did every thrilling thing they could think of. They watched the sunrise together by the ocean and went to Silver Pines Retreat to meditate, filling those days with every romantic experience imaginable. Then, on the ninth night, after I had packed all my belongings, I accidentally answered a video call from myself ten years in the past. "You really are me ten years from now! Then Claire and I must already be married with kids, right?" Pain flickered in my eyes. I walked straight onto the balcony and pointed the camera down at Claire and Kenneth, who were holding each other tightly, unable to let go. "This is what happens." Finley Morton looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. "That’s impossible…" My voice was exhausted, as though every last bit of strength had been drained from me. "Finley, please. Don’t marry her."

After creating a social media account for my newborn daughter, Natalie Graham, I made her first post. "Welcome to the world, Nattie." Three minutes later, a notification pops up. "Mom, I miss you." I frown. It has to be one of my friends messing with me. Then, another comment appears. "Mom, why did you die when I was one month old? Aunt Wanda said it was because I was naughty. She said you jumped off a roof because you hated me. "I'm five now, and I've been really, really good. Aunt Wanda said I had to fall down the stairs one more time for Dad to come home. Will I get to see you too, Mom?" My mind goes blank. My fingers tremble so badly I can barely type. Wanda Levine is my husband Zane Graham's secretary. The first time he mentioned her was while he was peeling an orange for me. "Wanda was one of the students my family sponsored," he casually starts. "She's done well for herself. After graduating, she earned a spot in the executive office." The room is perfectly warm, yet a chill runs straight through me. Without thinking, I quickly fire off a reply. "Don't go anywhere near the stairs!" Her response leaves me speechless.

At our engagement party, Regina Horton walks toward me through the crowd, arm in arm with Larry Dickson, and says, "Since you love me so much, Dominic Carlson, I will ask Larry Dickson to proceed with the engagement with me in your place instead." I meet her unyielding eyes as a mechanical voice echoes in my mind. "Hi, Dominic. This is the 1000th day since you failed to win over the female lead. Do you wish to give up on being her sugar daddy?" "Yes." "Got it. You may choose a future path for her as well." "I want her bound to Larry for the rest of her life."

Everyone said Finley Floyd was a total family man. His dad had been dead for twenty years, and he still found him a wife. Then he started calling me—someone two years younger than him—"Mommy." Yeah. My hand slipped. I accidentally assigned the affection points to the wrong role. And somehow, Finley really believed I was his mother. When I told him—again—that I wasn't his mom, he snapped. He yanked me into his arms and buried his face against me. "You are Mommy!"

I'm a man of principle who doesn't curse someone else without good reason. Even if I do curse them, the curse is only active for three days. In elementary school, my seatmate steals my eraser. When I flippantly tell him that he'll slip and fall in the next three days, he falls into a cesspool on the third day. The class representative accuses me of cheating during an exam during middle school. When I say that the entire school will learn something humiliating about him in the next three days, his love letter to another female student is pasted on the notice board. A bully kicks my desk during high school. When I tell him that his family will fall to ruins in the next three days, his father is arrested for embezzlement on the third day. When my boss, Frank Gordon, refuses to pay me after forcing me to work overtime, I calmly say, "You'll become bankrupt in the next three days." Frank scoffs indignantly before he grabs my resignation letter and tears it to pieces. "Get out of my sight! Either you continue working, or you can kiss your salary for this month goodbye!" He scatters the shredded paper over my head and continues, "I'm curious to see what will happen in the next three days. Will my company fall? Or will you starve to death first?" I lick my lips and say, "You must pay me within the next three days, Mr. Gordon—" However, Frank kicks me out of his office before I can finish my sentence.