Healing Short Stories & Novels

"Today is supposed to be a good day. We're choosing Wendy's dowry. Stop standing there bringing bad luck down on us!" My mother pulled my sister back in disgust, afraid the blood I had coughed onto the floor would splash the silver-bound chest. When a forest elf girl is born, her family plants a bonded tree for her, a tree that lives and dies with its owner. When a daughter marries, her eldest brother takes the old branches the tree has dropped on its own and builds her a dowry chest, a sign symbolizing a lifelong covenant of love and kinship. The chest is filled with gowns and with whatever the family gives her, and the larger the chest, the deeper the blessing. My brother cut my tree down and damaged its roots as well. "Wendy's tree is too thin and weak. It isn't worthy of the Royal Court. I had no choice but to saw yours into boards and put together a respectable chest for her." My sister stroked the silver-bound chest made from my ancient tree like a highborn princess. The whole family gathered around her to pick out what would go inside, as though they had forgotten that I was a bride that day too. My voice shook. "Then what about me?" My mother looked at me shaking there, and her face filled with disgust. "You insist on marrying that short-lived human. A wicker basket is dowry enough for you." Only in that moment did I understand that to them my life mattered less than Wendy's dignity. So I no longer had to treat them as family.

After Nathan Seville stands me up for the seventh time we're supposed to register our marriage, I finally cut all ties with him—completely and on my own terms. If he shows up at a gathering, I don't go. If he's invited to perform at the college anniversary, I leave early. The moment my company decides to work with him, I resign on the spot. Even on Christmas Eve, when he shows up at my house with gifts, I make up an excuse about needing to visit someone. Calls? Blocked. Socials? Deleted. My strategy is simple—cut it all off. I don't reach out, and he has no way of finding me. For the first 30 years of my life, I spent most of it loving him with everything I had. I cared for him, supported him, and waited for him. But after being left hanging for the seventh time at the City Hall, I finally wake up. I don't want to live like this anymore. Even if I end up alone, it's still better than spending night after night waiting in an empty house that never feels like home!

To forge an alliance, I had to choose a mate from the sons of the Blackwood Alpha. Everyone thought I'd choose Larry, the powerful Alpha-to-be. But on the day of the ceremony, I chose Derek—the outcast in the wheelchair, the one they called the Broken Wolf. I did it because in my past life, I chose Larry, and he betrayed me. He mated with another she-wolf right in front of me, forcing the entire pack to watch. He even marked Chloe, my so-called best friend. When I discovered their betrayal, he murdered me—and our unborn pup—with a silver dagger. I died in despair, my heart shattered. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had to choose my mate. This time, they could have each other. I would rewrite my fate. But I never expected he'd been reborn, too.

The day my mafia husband, Vincent Colletti, chose his subordinate Serena Vega and her daughter Daisy over us yet again, I began teaching our daughter not to expect anything from him. One stormy night, our daughter was too scared to sleep. Vincent hesitated, then went to comfort Daisy instead. I took a storybook and a stuffed animal to Eve's room and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's okay. Don Colletti has things to take care of. Mommy's here with you." Vincent bailed on the family trip Eve had been looking forward to for two weeks, all because Serena said Daisy wanted to go to an amusement park. I held Eve's hand as we boarded the plane. "Baby, Don Colletti isn't coming, but we're still going on our trip." Every time Vincent chose them over her, it took Eve a long time to get over it. It went on like that until Vincent finally woke up to how long he'd been neglecting us. He kissed Eve's cheek, eager to make it up to her. "Sorry, sweetheart. Next week, you'll have the grandest baptism ceremony the family has ever seen." But at the Blood Oath Baptism, the Colletti family's ceremony to formally acknowledge and protect a child, Vincent got a call from Serena. She sobbed into the phone. "Daisy's getting teased at school for not having a dad. Could you come pretend to be her dad?" Vincent barely hesitated. He turned to Eve with a coaxing, apologetic look. "Eve, Daddy has something urgent to take care of. I need to leave for a little while." Eve stood there. She didn't cry or make a fuss. Before he could even finish, she quietly nodded. "It's okay, Don Colletti. I have Mommy, and that's enough."

After I died, the Moon Goddess chose me and gave me a second life. But I had crossed over into a world of werewolves, and my mission was to win the heart of Soren, a notorious charmer who left a trail of admirers wherever he went. He brought me to the rooftop of the tallest building in the city, where countless fireworks bloomed across the sky in unison. "Surprised? I arranged this fireworks show just for you. Do you like it?" The barrage scrolled across my vision: [This is when you pretend to be shy. That's all you have to do.] Shy? Of course I could do shy. I gave him a demure smile, reached up to brush my fingers along his cheek, and gazed at him tenderly. "Surprised, yes. But fireworks are dazzling one moment and gone the next. You're the lasting surprise in my life." With a wave of my hand, the fireworks in the sky rearranged themselves to spell out Soren's name. The air went still. Not even the boom of the fireworks could drown out the hammering of Soren's heart.

The day I was supposed to win the biggest award of my career, I walked in on my boyfriend, Ethan, in bed with another woman. He sneered, calling me a face-blind, scent-deaf bore in bed. I planned to expose his ass at the award ceremony. Instead, he and his lover mowed me down with their car. Next thing I knew, I woke up with them in an S-class horror survival game. Mortality rate: over 95%. We had to survive ten days in a haunted manor to be revived. Hit 100 on your Anxiety Level, and your soul is obliterated. Chloe, Ethan's lover, sneered. "Sensory defects? You can't recognize ghosts or smell danger. In a horror game, that’s a death sentence. You might as well just die." The others heard her and scrambled to team up. Me? I walked straight into the lair of the manor's final boss. The most powerful demon in the game wanted to devour my soul. I couldn't really see him. I just thought he was a cosplayer. I lunged forward, poked his abs, and pointed at the glowing crack in his chest. "Wow, you're really committed to the role. This getup must've cost a fortune."

I'm the CEO of a publicly traded company, and I'm worth three billion dollars. Ten years ago, I dumped my broke boyfriend Ethan Shaw and left for Wall Street. Everyone said Vivian Quinn was cold-blooded and ruthless, a maniac who only cared about money. Then a car accident somehow transported me into another world. I woke up as a penniless housewife! Ethan Shaw, the ex who should have hated my guts, was suddenly my husband! And there was a five-year-old son tagging along. What a joke. How could I ever fall for a freeloader who spent all day in the kitchen or a pint-size boy who spent every day clinging to my leg? But just as I was determined to find my way back, I realized something wasn't right.

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

After four years of marriage, I decide to get a divorce. Why? Because my wife doesn't love me. She loves her childhood sweetheart. I disappear after leaving behind a divorce agreement—I give her my blessings in her search for true love. But after I'm gone, she searches the world for me like she's lost her mind.

I was Victor Costa's sickly wife. He was the CEO of the Costa Group and had married me despite his family's objections. On the opening day of the Costa Foundation's centennial charity week, I passed out from low blood sugar on the livestream. My husband, Victor, was in Europe for meetings, and his sister, Isabella Costa, was sure I was faking again. But after Dr. Rossi examined me, he frowned and asked her, "She's been malnourished for a long time, and her prescription hasn't been refilled in at least three months. Doesn't anyone feed her?" The livestream comments exploded with laughter. [Mrs. Costa, malnourished? I'd sooner believe the Costa Group had gone bankrupt.] Everyone knew Victor set aside two million dollars a month for my care and had hired a private doctor and nutritionist just for me. Isabella thought I was overdoing it, too. That is, until she searched my bag and found half a pack of glucose tablets I'd been rationing, a prepaid card with only seven dollars left, and three declined-payment slips from the pharmacy. I said quietly, "Victor told me I only get $200 a month to live on. "My medicine is too expensive. If I stop taking it for a while, I won't die right away." Isabella called her brother on the spot. "You only give your wife $200 a month?" Victor's voice turned cold. "What do you mean, $200? "I sign off on two million dollars for her every month, and I've never pulled her medical team!"

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.

I woke up staring at divorce papers—from the guy I'd crushed on all through college. My name. His. Right there on the page. He said I cheated. Last thing I remembered? Getting ready to finally tell him how I felt at our graduation party. Now suddenly, we've got a four-year-old. And him? He looked at me like I was some rando off the street. No trace of the sweet, soft guy I used to know. Just ice. What did I miss? What the hell happened in the last five years?

The Moon Goddess offered me her protection. If I died, I'd get one chance to be reborn through the werewolf trials. I was born with "sensory impairment." I wasn't an Omega, but I couldn't shift into a wolf. I couldn't see or sense wolves in their lupine forms or their power. When I appeared alongside ninety-nine other trial candidates in an ancient rainforest shrouded in thick fog and darkness, everyone assumed I wouldn't make it past the first day. But here I was, in the terrifying rainforest nests, treating a ghostly wolf pup, drowned for its unusual coat color, as my own little cub. And, I flirted with a bloodthirsty vampire spirit who took pleasure in killing, treating him like a lover. I even befriended the evil twin Hexenbiest, treating them like sisters. The first time we met, I reached out and ran my hand over the vampire's abs. "Nice body," I commented, "just a bit on the short side." He let out a humorless laugh, reattached the head he'd been holding to his neck, and gripped my chin. "I'm six-foot-five," he said. "Want to take another look?"

My good friend, Kiera, committed suicide after being raped, yet I covered up for the murderer. Kiera's family begged me to identify the murderer, but I ruthlessly kicked them out. Pack members smashed the door and made a scene. I planted Wolfsbane around the house, preventing them from coming in. Years later, my best friend, Sienna White, who had become the Alpha Female, ordered my exile while I was dying. On the day of my exile, she summoned the most powerful witch, who bound me to an altar and used dark magic to share my memories with everyone present. "Nyla Gotham, Kiera considered you her best friend, yet you covered up for the murderer who hurt her. Today, I'll use dark magic to examine your memories and find out who the murderer you've been painstakingly protecting really is." When the true culprit's face appeared in everyone's minds, my best friend collapsed to the ground in horror.

I was eighteen when I donated one of my kidneys to Susie Grant, but she died to transplant rejection anyway, and I was chased out of the Grant family. Before long, the surgery incision festered, and I died of infection in the streets. When I opened my eyes again, I was five once more, and it was the day I was taken back to the Grant family's home. But this time, my brother Harry stepped in front of our parents, pointing at me as he said, "There's been a mistake. She's not actually my sister." Seeing the look of contempt in his eyes, I knew he had reincarnated too. As our parents left in disappointment, he shoved me a piece of candy and told me, "The Grant family just needs one daughter. There's no place for you among us if you can't save Susie."

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”

Just as Justin proposed to me, a phone call interrupted him. Standing close by, I clearly heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Justin, I’m hurt. My leg hurts so much!” Justin snapped the ring box shut and looked at me. “Alice is injured. I’ll have to do this another time.” With those words, he sprinted away, leaving everyone around us staring in astonishment. I had never met Alice, but her presence lingered in every corner of our lives.  At meals, Justin would mention her fondness for sweet desserts.  When I dressed, I came to know her love for soft lavender hues. I argued, I wept, I lashed out, but Justin always countered with the same line. “You’re so jealous. Everyone has their first love. She’s my past, but you’re my future.” So, I turned to a man who had once called me his first love—Quentin—and made a bold proposition. “Let’s get married.”

I used to be treated like a princess in Lumenclaw Pack. But the first day after my eighteenth birthday, my Alpha dad brought home a charity case—Callie from the welfare center. Everything flipped. Ryell, my own brother, ditched me for her. Jovan, my future mate? Shielded her. Even Dad called her sweet, kind—"a thousand times better than you." Graduation Day. Strike 101. They picked her. Again. "Aren't I your real family?" Dad hesitated—but only to hide Callie behind him like some precious thing. Her fake tears. His real slap. "Such a petty wolf. I wish I'd never had you." Ryell sneered, "Having a sister like you makes me sick. Get out!" I didn't scream. Didn't cry. Just packed and walked. They thought I'd break like always—cry, forgive, crawl back. But not this time. I called my mom. Took her offer. Moved to her distant pack. If they wanted me gone, wish granted. So why the hell did they come begging when they realized I meant it?

Maude Ellington's fiance sends a message to his first love before their wedding. "You've always been the one I wanted to marry." With their wedding fast approaching, Maude watches him meticulously plan every detail with his first love in mind. She quietly lets it all go. Because she no longer wants the wedding. And she no longer wants him.

My best friend's brother and I have been dating for half a year, and she has no clue. My best friend drags me out on Christmas for a singles' night out. Unexpectedly, we see her brother, Chris Lambert, holding hands and kissing a girl under the fireworks. "Damn, Chris finally got the school belle!" She looks thrilled and pulls me forward to say hi. Chris awkwardly rubs his nose and introduces me to his girlfriend, "This is my sister, and the one beside her is… sort of like my sister too." I smile silently. We have held hands and kissed, yet now, I am just sort of like his sister.