Plot Twists Imagination Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

The day my scholarship money was deposited, I was about to transfer it to cover my grandmother’s hospital bills. Then, I suddenly heard a voice. [The Transfer System says that as long as someone eats or drinks something I give them, I can secretly transfer their money to myself without them ever knowing.] [Perfect. Claire just received her scholarship money, so I’ll use her to test it.] [If the transfer works, I can use the money to buy that dress I’ve been wanting.] The voice clearly belonged to my roommate, Mia Parker. Confused, I was about to turn around to confirm it when a bottle of water was suddenly placed on my desk. Mia smiled warmly and said, “Claire, thanks for picking up my package yesterday. Have some water.” The next second, her excited thoughts rang out again. [Drink it. Go on, drink it. Once you finish this bottle, your money will be mine!] I stared at the anticipation and greed she could barely hide in her eyes, and anger surged through me. She knew perfectly well that this scholarship money was my grandmother’s lifeline. I calmly picked up the bottle. "So, you want to transfer my money? "Fine. "I’ll let you transfer as much as you want."

For the sake of that fake heiress, my biological parents and brother threw me into a horror game to "teach me some manners." The second the game started, the fake heiress, Nicole, went out of her way to provoke the ghosts nonstop. Once she'd pissed them off, she shoved me in front of her to take the punishment. As I lay there, tortured within an inch of my life, she planted her foot on my head and smirked. "Mom and Dad already made it clear—I'm the only one they truly love. They only brought you back to keep me entertained! Letting you deal with those ghosts for me is more than generous. If you dare complain, once my brother and the others get back, they'll skin you alive." In my past life, I treated them like family and gave in every single time. In the end, I was nothing but a stepping stone for them to beat the game—torn apart and devoured by over a dozen ghosts. But now, I've been reborn. "Welcome to Horror Instance: Happy Home." The moment I heard that mechanical announcement, I slapped the arrogant Nicole so hard she flew across the room. Because in this instance, the three bosses that terrorized every player… were all my family. The red-dressed female ghost who killed without hesitation was my adoptive mother. The monster with scissors for hands who ripped out hearts with a single swipe was my adoptive father. And the ruthless warden who devoured people whole, leaving no bones behind, was my adoptive brother. With them watching my back, why the hell would I keep putting up with this? A mocking smile curled across my lips as I said, "You're on my turf; none of you are getting out alive."

My daughter, Heather Miller, comes home in an injured state from her high school one day. Apparently, someone has been spreading rumors about her cheating in her exams, stealing from others, and even shamelessly serving as an old geezer's mistress! I spend a fortune hiring a hacker in order to locate the source of those rumors. To my horror, my best friend, Sylvia Lister, is actually the one behind this scheme! Just as I'm about to confront her angrily, I suddenly see rows of comments occupying my vision. "The male lead's mom really is smart! She taught him how to come up with rumors just to slander the female lead! Now that no one wants to approach her, he can have her all to himself!" "The mother-and-son pair really are sneaky… and I like it! The female lead is really blessed to have them in her life!" "If my guess is correct, the female lead will get expelled from the school next week. She'll get locked up by the male lead and his mom in their home, which is the start of her amazing bedroom life!"

My name is Mark Thompson. Not long after I became a mortician, I came down with a strange condition. The moment I touch a corpse, I see their final memories play out before my eyes. It's not that I enjoy sticking my nose into other people's business. Those visions just force their way into my head. The first body my mentor ever had me restore belonged to a wealthy young man who'd been mangled in a car crash. The second I touched his shattered neck, I couldn't stop myself from saying something to the grieving family beside me. "His car didn't malfunction. The brake line was cut. "The cutters are still hidden beneath the spare tire in his wife's trunk." The crying stopped instantly, and everyone turned to stare at the woman who had been pretending to mourn. Two weeks later, she was arrested. She had hired someone to kill her husband and staged the murder as a traffic accident. After that, people from both sides of the law started lining up outside the funeral home in the middle of the night.

I picked up a system with my sister. The system said only one of us could bind to it, and the other could take twenty million dollars. My sister shoved me aside and chose the money. Ten years later, she squandered everything and ended up homeless. Relying on the luck the system gave me, I excelled in my studies, climbed the career ladder, and reached the peak of my life. Driven by jealousy, my sister stabbed me to death at my birthday party. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day we found the system. This time, she said without hesitation, “Luck is too intangible. I’ll take the loss. You can have the fortune.” I knew she had been reborn, too. What she didn’t know was that the luck granted by the system always came at the cost of one’s lifespan.

I was only one final background check away from securing my future. That afternoon, I grabbed my document folder and prepared to drive to my fiancée’s place to pick up a statement that verified our family relationship. Yet the moment my fingertips touched the car keys, several pale-gray lines of text appeared before my eyes. [Do not touch the car. At 7:20 tonight, someone will die on the West Ring Road service lane. The car that hits them will carry your license plate. Three days later, the victim’s daughter will stab you during your background-check interview.] I stood frozen in the entryway, and cold sweat spread across my back. At that moment, my phone rang. My fiancée’s gentle voice came through the receiver. “Reid, just drive over here. There’s a bunch of paperwork, and I can help you look everything over again.”

My husband and my best friend had seemingly vanished during my grandfather-in-law's funeral. As I searched for them, I passed Shawn Whitaker's coffin and suddenly saw a live chat window flash into view: [Oh goodie, we're finally dealing with a male lead with a 200 IQ! He dragged Best Girl straight into the coffin before that bitch could find out!] [Aww, he's comforting Best Girl because she's scared of the dark! Aaaaahhhhh!] [That annoying extra is still outside looking for Vincent. She's so dumb, oh my god. I'm right here cheering for Best Boy to cheat with Best Girl because I swear that bitch exists just to get in their way!] Fury surged through me. I moved to flip the coffin lid open, but Jasmine grabbed my arm. "Wait! He can't possibly be in there. I think he went to buy Grandpa coffin nails." [Get yourself a little sister who helps you find happiness like Jazzy, chat.] [And now, in the warm, cramped, humid darkness, two bodies collide and sparks fly. This is metal as hell.] [It's also dangerous as hell. I'm just glad our guy was smart enough to leave a crack for air.] I smirked. Oh, was he? I slammed the lid shut, dragged a nearby lounge chair over, and settled into it. "We've got an hour before the funeral begins, don't we? I think I'll keep Grandpa company." The audience was stunned. [An hour?! They're going to die in there!]

I am a real estate agent. For the past three years, I have been the top seller in the industry. It is not because I am a smooth talker; it is because I can hear houses speak. The houses will chatter about a hollow wall, a leaking pipe, or a window with a bad seal. During move-out inspections, I point out exactly what tenants try to hide. When showing a place to renters, I warn them about hidden red flags. I have been doing this so long that both sides treat me like family. Then, one Friday, a regular client, Eleanor Wilson, shows up. "Devan, the tenants at the Eastmere place are moving out." Eleanor is in her 60s. Her husband is long gone, and she lives off the rental income. She is a sweet soul. She charges 20% below market rate and even makes cookies for her tenants during the holidays. The couple moving out this time is Henry Johnson and his wife. They run a fruit stand at the local market and have a six-year-old daughter, Lea Johnson. "Lea is missing," Eleanor says, her eyes welling with tears. "She vanished outside the market last month. Just like that, in the blink of an eye. Henry and his wife have been searching for a month. They're worn out and broke. They just can't take it anymore." A heaviness settles in my chest at her words. I grab the keys and head out with her. Eleanor gasps for air with every flight of stairs we climb. I walk ahead of her. The moment I slide the key into the lock of Apartment 602, the doorknob vibrates violently against my palm. A second later, I dial 911. "I want to report a case of murder. There's a hidden body on the sixth floor of 18 Montclair Heights, Eastmere. The victim is their daughter."

My best friend, Jayde Shepard, and I got pregnant at the same time. She gave me a chubby baby charm, saying she’d had it specially blessed for me to help the baby grow strong. However, just three months in, my belly had already swollen to an unnatural size, like I was about to give birth at any moment. I went through every test at the hospital, but everything came back normal. With no answers left, I turned to the internet. An anonymous user replied: "You’re wearing a cursed charm. She’s using your womb to grow her child. You’ll suffer the pregnancy, but your baby’s fate will be stolen." I thought about how, ever since I got pregnant, she had quietly taken several of my clients. A chill ran through me. That night, I took off the charm and hung it around the neck of the pregnant sow in our yard instead.

At my wedding to my childhood friend, Mason Rivers, a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [LMAO, supporting character still doesn’t know the groom is a stand-in! The real male lead, Mason Rivers, is at the hospital with the fragile, sweet female!] [It doesn’t matter who the groom is. He only agreed to the marriage to keep his company afloat. This story is about the childhood sweetheart losing to the girl who came later.] [In the end, the supporting character gets completely ruined by the male lead. I almost feel bad for her.] I hid the shock in my eyes and pretended not to know anything as I finished the ceremony. I didn’t want to be the stepping stone for their love, the disposable extra who dies a tragic death. If he didn’t want to marry me, then I’d turn this act into something real and marry someone else instead.

On our wedding night, my husband, Ralph Raymond, dropped dead in our bed and left me hundreds of millions. Naturally, everyone told me to remarry while I was still young. Even my best friend secretly set me up with a guy. Broad shoulders. Slim waist. Not as hot or rich as Ralph, but young, sweet, and always there. Then he proposed. And glowing messages blew up in front of my face. [Do NOT say yes! Lila set this whole thing up! She knows Ralph's ghost is still right beside you!] [The second you take that ring, everyone will call you a gold digger and a cheating liar!] [Ralph's love will turn into hate. When he comes back from the dead, you're the first person he'll strangle.] [And your fake bestie? She'll save the man you betrayed, steal his heart, take his fortune, and spend the next forty years living your life. Their epic love story will be the only thing anyone talks about.] I stared at the guy on one knee, holding out a diamond ring. A few seconds passed. I chose to trust the messages. Then I slapped him.

I decide to get onboard with the latest trend by custom-ordering a merfolk meant to serve me from AquaGene Corp. On the day Lance arrives at the company, the engineer tells me, "It's highly recommended that you be there in person, Ms. Ross. That way, you'll be able to form the initial bond with him." So, I spend one day standing before the eco-tank. As soon as Lance opens his eyes, he doesn't show any signs of wanting to get close to me. Instead, he merely scrutinizes me coldly before turning his back on me. I comfort myself, thinking that Lance is just shy. But one week later, I realize how wrong I truly am. I pay money because I want to buy a partner who can keep me company forever. Turns out I buy myself the biggest trouble of the century instead.

On our wedding anniversary, I was about to head out to sign off on the renovation plans for our home. But just as I picked up my car keys, a few lines of text suddenly floated before my eyes. [Don't go.] [They're not waiting for you to approve the renovation plans today. They're waiting for you to sign an addendum to the renovation loan agreement.] [Once you sign, that $60,000 renovation loan will become $1.6 million in joint debt.] [Joel Yates will use a copy of your ID, your signature from an old document, and a video authorization to prove you willingly took out the loan.] [The money will go into your best friend Vivian Blake's account. They've been sleeping together for a long time.] [In three months, the house your parents left you will be sold at auction.] [Debt collectors will drive you to a breakdown, and you'll jump to your death. Joel will take the payout from your death and marry her.] I froze in the entryway. A second later, Joel called. "Lily, are you on your way? The designer and the bank representative are both here. We just need you to come sign a few more papers."

On the third day after the wealthy Silva family took me back, the fake heiress pushed me off the twenty-eighth floor. As I plummeted toward the ground, I was so thrilled that I actually applauded her. I was a little zombie who had been stuck in the mortal world for three hundred years. Food tasted like nothing. Sleep brought no comfort. Even a little sunshine made me emit smoke. In my next life, all I wanted was to be an ordinary person who could enjoy fine food and sleep in on lazy mornings. The Grim Reaper had told me that as soon as this body was well and truly dead, I could be reincarnated. As such, I tried hanging myself, jumping into rivers and even sneaking into a crematorium to lie down in a furnace. However, the rope snapped, the river was too shallow and the crematorium’s furnace was shut down for emergency maintenance. The King of Hell would not take me, and even Heaven refused to accept me! Now, with the ground rushing toward me, I closed my eyes in contentment. This time, I had it in the bag. Thud! The mall downstairs was celebrating its anniversary, and I landed squarely in the middle of a giant inflatable cake. I did not just survive the fall. I did not even mess up my hair. By the time my three older brothers arrived, the fake heiress was already crying so hard she looked ready to pass out. “Bianca said that if she died, you’d hate me for the rest of your lives…” James stared at me coldly. “Risking your life just to compete for affection? How childish can you get?” I pulled my head out of the cake and could not help sighing. Childish? That very evening, the fake heiress showed up with another bowl of tonic laced with poison. “Bianca, let’s make up.” The moment I caught the unmistakable smell of rat poison, my eyes lit up. She failed, refused to make excuses, reviewed her mistakes overnight and proactively switched strategies. Now that was efficiency. That was ambition. She was more qualified than anyone else to be the darling of a wealthy family. I downed the tonic in one gulp and clasped her hands, deeply moved. “Talia, the Silva family can live without me, but it absolutely cannot live without you!”

To make a quick buck, I set up a barbecue stall at the National Day parade. All of a sudden, bullet comments started floating before my eyes: “Look at our heiress out here grilling meat! Does MC have any idea the money she breaks her back to earn a month can’t even cover the impostor’s afternoon tea?” “What’s she to do? Fate can be a bitch. Girl got her life stolen for twenty years.” “You’re getting picked up by your wealthy family tomorrow! Fight for what’s yours! Get your life back! Your parents’ love, your brothers’ support, and your fiancé’s heart!” “Got my popcorn. I’m ready for the showdown!” My hand froze. I was a rich heiress? And my wealthy birth family was coming to find me tomorrow?? Well, say no more—time to close up! The comments kept streaming past, relentlessly encouraging me to compete with my imposter for everyone’s affection. Ignoring them, I picked up electric clippers and shaved my short hair into a buzz cut. I attached a fake Adam’s apple, bound my chest, and darkened my face with makeup. Staring at the transformed “man” in the mirror, a smirk tugged at my lips. Why waste time fighting over scraps of affection? I had bigger goals. I was going for the family fortune, the heir position, and total control of the family business.

It was the twentieth year of the zombie apocalypse. Resources were scarce, but I still used half of my savings to buy flowers to propose to my girlfriend. However, she turned around and linked arms with my brother, telling me arrogantly, "You're just a poor loser who stole someone else's superpower. You're not worthy of me. I'm marrying the real owner of the superpower. He's really strong, so get lost, you simp." I was stunned. The "real owner" she was talking about was my own brother. He could only use his spatial power because I shared it with him. Watching them shamelessly mock me in front of other people, I silently unlinked my brother from the superpower sharing system. Let's see how strong he could be now!

"I know you're an ace divorce attorney. Please help me!" A young woman who's holding a child suddenly barges into the law firm and gets down on her knees in front of me. I'm about to help her up to her feet when a few live comments appear in front of my eyes. "This really is a doomed story. I can't believe the FMC has to go through all sorts of torment before dying." "Once she gets caught, both she and her child will be dead. The MMC can only spend the rest of his life in eternal remorse." "The FMC is pretty naive, isn't she? She thinks finding herself an attorney can help her secure a divorce. The MMC is the richest man in Opalford at the end of the day, so there's no way she can file for a divorce successfully." When I spot the next comment, its contents sting my eyes immediately. "Unfortunately, this attorney is a throwaway character too. Not only does she refuse to help FMC, but she also fails to recognize her as her older sister, who has gone missing for many years."

The day before the SAT, strange comments suddenly appear before my eyes. "In a while, your childhood friend, Savannah Dunham, will come to you complaining about a stomachache. She will ask you to accompany her to the restroom. "She'll give birth there, then accuse you of being the baby's father. Since you'll be at the scene and she'll personally identify you as the father of the baby, the police will arrest you on the spot. By the time the truth comes out, you'll have already missed the SAT." The very next moment, Savannah clutches her stomach and grabs my arm. "Benny, my stomach hurts. Can you come to the restroom with me?" Every word she says and every move she makes matches the comments exactly. Then, another comment appears. "Her boyfriend is Michael Crowley, the one who always comes second. If you miss the SAT, Michael will become the top scorer this year." I shake off Savannah's hand immediately. "I'm sorry. Ms. Kirkland asked to see me. She said there's a problem with my exam admission pass. You'll have to go by yourself."

My sister-in-law, Alicia, insisted that her son was a chosen fighter, blessed by God and immune to harm. The truth was far darker: every injury meant for him was being transferred onto my daughter. His congenital heart disease disappeared overnight. While most children his age were still carefully protected, he was already taking part in extreme sports and never suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, my once-healthy daughter weakened day by day. She began to suffer unexplained fractures throughout her body. There was not a single place left uninjured. It was impossible not to see the connection. When I voiced my suspicions to my husband, Jeff Charlton, and my mother-in-law, Kelly Freeman, they dismissed me as delusional. They accused me of being jealous that Alicia had given birth to a prodigy, while I had nothing but a "worthless" daughter. Later, Alicia's son completed a trek across the Saharain Desert and became an overnight sensation, a child star adored by millions. At the same time, my daughter suddenly collapsed from heatstroke and died without warning. Alicia went live on her platform, accusing me of making false claims out of envy. Her followers believed every word. They hunted me down and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment Alicia first proclaimed her son a miracle child. This time, I was no longer a powerless mother. As a specialist doctor, I calmly pulled on my gloves. "Alicia," I said with a smile, "Let me examine my nephew and see if he's truly cured."

My adopted sister won the Elixir Challenge by stealing my potion. To her shock, she was informed that the event was a selection event for the future wife of the Serpentkins' future head—the same heir who was infamously impotent, barbaric, and hideous. When the Serpentkins sent over a proposal letter, demanding her hand in marriage, my fiance panicked and promptly took my adopted sister away for a quick marriage and even consummated. Once the deed was done, she returned triumphantly, showing off the mark on her lower back. "Well, what are you going to do now, Winnie?" she gloated. "Your fiance is mine now, and you'll be twenty-five in three days. If no one comes to pick you up, you'll just be dumped into the hands of some wife-beating Rogue who is ageing and unwanted…" Actually, she was wrong—I had a choice. I went to the parlor where my parents—who were busy fixing the mess my adopted sister made—were, announcing, "If she refuses to marry the future head of the Serpentkins, I will!"