Short Imagination Stories & Novels

Every other student could hear the inner thoughts of Chloe Yates, the campus belle. It was like a radio station was broadcasting her mind, and unfortunately for me, the broadcast was usually bad news. It started during the ROTC courses in our freshman year. I was doubled over with terrible period cramps and asked to sit out. Chloe just shook her head, letting out a dramatic, pitying sigh. "Oh, this is awful," her internal voice broadcast to everyone. "Should I tell everyone the truth? Sylvie is totally faking it. If the sergeant finds out she's lying, he's going to punish the whole class because of her." The sergeant, hearing her thoughts, immediately assumed I was a liar. He forced the entire class to run 30 laps as punishment. After that, no one would talk to me. Later, when I applied for the need-based financial aid grant, Chloe went on a rampage with her internal thoughts. "Her family isn't poor!" her voice screamed in everyone's heads. "They have a car and a house. She's just vain. She's trying to scam the college out of grant money so she can buy a new phone. I feel so bad for the actual poor kid whose spot she's stealing." Once the class heard that, they silently agreed to vote against my application. Without that money, I had no choice but to work three part-time jobs just to survive. I worked myself into the ground until I finally gave out. I collapsed in the classroom while clutching my chest, suffering a massive heart attack. I cried out, begging my classmates to call 911. However, Chloe's voice cut through the air right then. "She doesn't have a heart condition. She's pregnant. She's trying to trick a guy into taking her to the hospital so she can get an abortion, and then she's going to frame whoever helps her for getting her knocked up." Terrified of being blamed, the students backed away from me like I was radioactive. They stood there and watched as I died on the classroom floor. Right up until the moment I died, I never understood why my life had turned into such a nightmare. However, when I snapped my eyes open, I had returned to the day of the ROTC courses. The cramps were back, and the sun was beating down on me. Chloe did not know one crucial detail. This time, I could hear her thoughts too.

I am a miserable nurse. During the Halloween season, there was a three day break but I was not given any days off. Upset, I decided to join a game featuring a haunted hospital. There was an old man wrapped in IV tubes chasing after a player. I sprinted forward and shoved him into the chair. After effortlessly jabbing the IV line back in him, I told him off, "It’s just an IV drip, not an action movie. Sit. Down. Move again and I’ll strap you to the chair!" The old man did a double take before blinking in a flustered manner. "Sorry for causing you trouble, ma'am." At night, children ghosts began to run and laugh wildly in the corridor. I grabbed one in each hand and hauled them up. "If you’re not going to stay put in the ward, I’ll give you an injection!" Why did I still have to work in a game? I was so tired. The other players cried out, "Clem! That's a ghost. Are you not scared?" I sneered, "Sorry, but burnt-out workers hold more grudges than ghosts ever could."

A security guard caught a snake in our apartment complex and delivered it straight to my door. I was just about to scream when floating comments cut in. [The male lead got dumped and turned back into his real form just to spy on his girlfriend, and he actually got caught? This is funny as hell!] [He got dumped, and his girlfriend hates him. He's probably gonna cry himself to sleep!] [Aww, poor little snake can't curl up on his girlfriend tonight.] The big black snake looked pitiful in the guard's hands. It secretly sized me up with its slit pupils. I tried holding out my hand, and the black snake stared in disbelief. Two seconds later, it obediently rubbed its head against my fingers.

One day, a wealthy couple is invited to give a speech at my university. My childhood sweetheart, Henry McGregor, tugs me along, eager for us to sneak out to the cafeteria and do some part-time work. He tells me to go grab the empty bucket from the shelf. But just as I take a step, a flood of messages suddenly appears in front of my eyes. [Don't touch that bucket! It's filled with scalding soup that Henry prepared. He wants to ruin your face!] [Three years ago, Henry had his first love impersonate you, becoming the long-lost daughter of the Wright family. Now, he plans to disfigure you so you'll never be able to return.] [You'll endure severe burns all over your body and undergo countless skin grafts. In the end, the fake heiress will poison you by swapping your medicine.] [Meanwhile, that scumbag will marry into the Wright family. Along with the impostor, they'll drain the Wrights of everything they have.] [You need to go back right now and let Mrs. Wright see your face. This is your only chance to reclaim your rightful place as their daughter!] At that moment, I hear Henry urging me again to hurry and move the bucket. As I glance at the flood of messages once more, I freeze, stopping dead in my tracks.

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

In my last life, the System let my parents swap my SAT scores with my twin's. I was always top of my class—until I magically bombed with a 640. Amelia Everton? Scored a perfect 1520, like she'd earned it. The internet went nuts. Everyone called me a fraud. My parents played innocent on TV, said I'd been cheating for years. Every college ghosted me. Then they kicked me out. I froze to death alone. Not this time. I'm taking it all back—every last thing they stole.

I was a descendant of Echidna, while Jonathan was the Capital City's most faithful Crystal Emperor devotee. In my past life, I eloped for love. For love, I threw away my chance to awaken my bloodline, shed my scales, and ascend to godhood. But… On the day of our marriage, Jonathan cut out my heart. He said I was cursed, that I was in the way of his true love's salvation. He wanted to use my Blood of Essence to pave the way for his true love's return to life. In despair, I could only watch as he held the prayer beads in his hand. His words were calm and deadly cruel. "Sinead, you should feel blessed to become Anna's sacrifice." When I opened my eyes again, time had mysteriously wound back. I had returned to one week before my wedding. I prayed in the rundown temple, my hand over my aching heart. The booming voice of my deity suddenly filled my ears, answering my desperate plea. "Descendant of Echidna, will you shed your scales and return to an ordinary life? Or will you give up love and achieve apotheosis?"

Clayton Amos finally agrees to marry me during my fifth year as the antagonist of a novel. On the day of my wedding, the chandelier in the middle of the hall suddenly snaps and falls. At the most critical moment, he shoves me aside and runs over to protect Gladys Dawson, the protagonist of the novel, and his first love. Clayton's arm is slashed as a result, and blood pours out of the wound, dyeing his pristine white suit red. Meanwhile, Gladys remains unharmed in his arms. I hold a hand against the bleeding wound on my neck and finally accept the fact that Clayton never loved me. This is when the system appears and asks me, "Hailey Paltrow, would you like to abort your mission now?" I nod in silent response. "Since he's going to end up losing all four of his limbs and ultimately wish for death, I'll let him have it."

After the human race loses the war, the beastfolk rule over the human lands. As crown princess, my sister Amber Whitaker is born beautiful and is handed over to the Beast King, Theron Olson, as his concubine. Compared to her, I'm plain, so they send me to the breeding quarters, where beastmen fight over me and use me like a breeding machine. However, Amber doesn't fare well either. She's too gentle for palace schemes. Before long, the other women frame her, and she dies. As for me, pregnancy after pregnancy wears my body down until it's too weak to go on, and I die filled with hatred. Then, everything blurs. When Amber and I open our eyes, we stare at each other in shock and realize we're back on the very day the human race falls. This time, I hold her hand tightly and say firmly, "Let me serve the Beast King instead!" On the night, Theron takes me to his bed. "You look so slim, yet you're surprisingly full. Are you afraid?" With that, he strips away my clothes and casts off his own. One glance makes my breath hitch. I've seen beastmen's packages before, but I never expected Theron to have two!

I transmigrated into a trashy, tragic romance as the vicious side character. By the time I arrived, the story had already reached its ending. I had caused the female lead to lose her SAT opportunity, and my two older brothers forced me to my knees. My eldest brother, Lucas Sherman, beat me mercilessly with a stick. He hissed, "Slap yourself 1000 times before you can get up." My older brother, Charlie Sherman, threw a bottle of pesticide at me. He spat, "Someone as vicious as you should just die." I let out a cold laugh and picked up the pesticide bottle, downing it in one gulp. Lucas and Charlie turned pale with shock. "Are you insane? You actually drank it!"

The day I found out I was pregnant with my second child, the impossible happened: the baby in my womb spoke. "Stupid sister, are you even listening? Mom said that as soon as you graduate, she's selling you off. That money is for my future wedding!" My daughter went still. She didn't say a word, didn't confront me, didn't even cry. She just quietly applied to study abroad. And from that day on, I never heard from her again. My husband, seeing how devastated I was, moved to comfort me. But the baby's voice cut through the silence once more. "Comfort her? You're the biggest fool in this house! When I'm born, I'm not calling you 'Dad.' My real dad is that handsome guy from the bar!" The color drained from Sean's face. Before I could utter a word of explanation, he dragged me straight to the hospital for a paternity test. The results came back quickly—my best friend had pulled some strings to expedite them. And there it was, in cold, clinical print: NO PATERNITY BIOLOGICALLY ESTABLISHED. He didn't let me speak. He filed for divorce immediately. In a panic, the baby's voice cried out from inside me again, "Why is the idiot backing out now? Did he finally figure out Mom tricked him? The one who saved his life all those years ago wasn't her—it was her best friend!" That one sentence shattered my entire world. My husband turned his back on me and married my best friend. As for me… the shock and grief hit me like a physical blow. I felt a hot, sudden gush of blood. Before the doctors could save me, I died on that cold hospital bed, my hands clutching my swollen belly, my mind still reeling, unable to comprehend how my life had unraveled so completely. It wasn't until I was reborn, and once again heard the treacherous little voice inside me, that I finally began to understand the truth.

My sister-in-law finally became pregnant at fifty. But the family parrot, Pip, suddenly said, “Abort it. Abort it.” Hearing this, I immediately forced my sister-in-law to go to the hospital to get an abortion. My brother and parents desperately stopped me. They shouted, “Have you gone mad? Do you trust an animal’s words?” I nodded and answered firmly, “Yes. I believe everything Pip says.”

I transmigrated into a dating-sim otome game where I was supposed to romance a soft, fragile male lead. I had finally pushed him onto the bed and was just about to make my move when the long-missing system finally popped back online. [Host, I sent you to the wrong game. This is a horror game.] [The man you’re bullying right now is the horror game final boss.] I lifted my head and met a pair of blood-red eyes staring straight at me. My smile froze. “Um… you look a little tired. Maybe we should… continue this another day?” He smiled back, calm and terrifying. “I’m not tired. Go on.”

I opened my eyes to a sharp sting in my arm. Pushing up my sleeve, I froze. A dense line of jagged letters had been carved into the skin of my right forearm: [This house has monsters! Every time I'm killed, I'm thrown into a loop and lose all my memories. With each death, I mark my hand.] Beneath the warning, three crooked tally marks were etched deep into my arm.

My older sister, Scarlet Dawson, is an absolute saint with a savior complex. When the apocalyptic heatwave hits us, she gives out water to our neighbors, food to strangers, and even invites her boyfriend's entire family to live with us. When our supplies are finally depleted, Scarlet actually considers selling me off to a perverted old man in exchange for supplies to look after her boyfriend, Marcus Crosby. I promptly pull out my stun gun and knock her unconscious. Then, I hand her straight to the perverted old man instead. I go back to my villa, where the temperature is constantly kept at 60°F, and enjoy a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream under the air conditioning. Not only that, but my villa is stocked with enough supplies to last me for the next few decades!

On the day I was in heat, my childhood sweetheart stood me up. He only sent me a voice message, which said, “Willow, what do you mean you’re in heat? You’re just desperate for a man. Have some self-respect. Stop calling me!” Just as my fever spiked, pushing me to the edge of delirium, spectators watching my story flooded my vision with comments. [Sweetie, there are plenty of fish in the sea! Don’t be sad!] [Honey, look who’s walking in front of you. It’s Douglas Simus, the university heartthrob. He has the whole V-line and abs package, and he’s still a pure virgin boy!] Who? A V-line and abs? He should probably be able to satisfy me then. I struggled to open my eyes and saw a handsome man appear. Not bad. He smelled clean. I stopped him. “Do you want to hook up with me?”

My roommate branded herself as an influencer against beauty standards, vowing to free girls from appearance anxiety. Strangely, whenever she stayed up late partying and broke out in pimples, they would appear on my face instead. When she fooled around and caught an infection, the rashes spread across my body. The more radiant she became, the more monstrous I looked. People recoiled from me. Friends cut me off. My own boyfriend, before a crowd, told me I should just die. Then my roommate got pregnant, yet it was my stomach that swelled like I was eight months along, scarred with terrifying stretch marks. She, meanwhile, looked more flawless than ever, appearing barefaced on camera to encourage girls not to fear their looks. I knew something was not right. When I tried to dig for answers, my roommate and boyfriend trapped me in a basement. They tortured me until I died. Only then did I learn the truth. He owned a cursed amulet that shifted all her pain onto me. The moment I opened my eyes, I was back on our first day of college together. This time, the game is mine. I'll make sure they pay.

A random transmigrator, Rosanna Lacewin, finally gets fed up after living as me, Roxanne Lovelace, for five years. She then ups and leaves this world with her system, leaving behind my extremely spoiled son, Theo Sterling, and my unusually cold husband, Austin Sterling. Before I can even process my thoughts, I suddenly see a barrage of comments flashing before my eyes. "What kind of a disastrous start to a story is this? This is the first time I've ever seen such a stupid transmigrator! She arrived five years earlier, made a huge mess, and now, the original owner has to clean up the mess she left behind!" "That's right. All she had to do was just correct Theo's ways, warm up to Austin, and stop her family from bothering the actual main characters of the story. But she did none of that and only spent all her time enjoying herself and avoiding death!" "Theo's all spoiled now, and Austin is very distant from her. I'm feeling so annoyed just by looking at this family. I wish they'd just die." So, as it turns out, I'm just the cannon fodder in this story plot who dies young, and both my husband and my son will be the main antagonists later on.

My elder sister, the crown princess, died on the road while searching for medicinal herbs to save me. The obsessive merman, cunning fox spirit, and unhinged lion shifter she had entangled herself with all came looking for her. Each one believed he was her true love, and they immediately began fighting among themselves until all three were gravely wounded. When they learned that my sister had died because of me, they turned their fury to me, seeing me as the root of all their suffering. The merman brutally ripped out my spiritual core. "You killed her, so you don't deserve to live either." The fox spirit forced deadly poison down my throat. "Simply dying would be far too merciful for you." The lion shifter imprisoned me and tortured me daily. "That face of yours that looks like hers is the only reason you're still breathing." I carried the guilt of my sister's death, and I suffered in silence to keep my parents safe from their wrath. Three years passed, and I had become nothing more than a broken shell. I fought desperately to escape and return to the royal palace, only to hear familiar laughter echoing from the inner chambers. It was my sister's voice. "Thank heavens you came up with this brilliant plan, Mother. I certainly wasn't about to keep dealing with those disgusting beastmen forever." Rage consumed me. I burst through the doors, determined to kill us both, but her personal guard cut me down with a single strike. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister staged her own death.

I somehow became the "dream girl" of a cold, dangerous villain straight outta a novel. Well—technically, it was my mini burritos that did the damage. Hot, cheap, and hit like a hug. The year his whole world crashed, Rory Roth showed up scrawny and wrecked, clutching three crumpled bucks. "Can I get one mini burrito?" I stood there with a spatula in hand, staring at the kid who'd one day become some criminal mastermind genius. But right now? No threat, no swagger—just a shivering kid with wary eyes. "I'm not tryna scam you. If it's not enough, I'll wash dishes, mop floors, help with customers—whatever. Once I make up the rest, c-could you make me a mini burrito then?" That's when it hit me. This so-called villain... was just a starving, beat-down kid.