Plot Twists Imagination Short Stories & Hypocrisy Face Slapping Novels

Three years after I landed on the wanted list, all 88 pieces of my dismembered corpse were thrown in front of the police station. After the forensics team put my body together, they identified my body as Julian Colt, the fiancé of the Organized Crime Department, Captain Kyra Schneider. Everyone, from elders in their eighties to young children, wanted me to see justice because not only had I betrayed Kyra and her team, but I had also publicly joined the criminal organization and become the lover of its leader. I was fired from the police force and hated by my loved ones. Kyra hated me the most, and she used the most cruel method of retrieving my memories to be broadcast to the world. On judgment day, the city square was filled with spectators, but when my memories were retrieved, along with the huge word 'innocent' splashed on it, everyone went crazy. "Traitor! A man like him should have been executed." "The evidence clearly points to his guilt. How is he innocent? Everyone knows how he helped the criminal organization to kill numerous police officers!" "Don't be tricked by him! He must have altered those memories!"

On April Fool's Day, my husband sent me an intimate photo of himself and his secretary, Claire Bennett. "I've actually been with Claire for three years. Our child is already two years old. "I'm planning to fake my death in a car accident and then move overseas with her and our daughter." The look of shock on my face made him burst out laughing. "Got you. It was April Fool's Day. You didn't actually believe that, did you?" I had just breathed a sigh of relief when he casually added, "But the part about Claire and me having a child is true." I said nothing as I looked at the smug, provocative grin on his face. What he didn't know was that I'd possessed a Lies Come True System since childhood. Whenever someone sincerely told me a lie, that lie would come true. And the death he casually joked about would become reality just three days later.

When my wife, Anna Smith, and I went back to her hometown for the New Year’s, her male best friend, Liam Reid, barged into our bedroom. Late at night, he suddenly unbuttoned his top and exposed his bare chest. “Anna, my imaginary bosom hurts. Please massage them to make me feel better!” Anna wanted to massage his chest when I flipped the tumbler over next to our bed in frustration. Anna’s face immediately fell. She glared at me in hatred as she roared, “He’s experiencing a psychological issue due to hormonal imbalance. Do you even know science? Why is your mind in the gutter?” Liam pretended to cry as he sobbed, “Sawyer, don’t blame Anna. We’re best friends, and we’re basically sisters. “It’s my fault. If I had been born with a real bosom, I’d definitely stay away from Anna.” I looked at his fake demeanor and smirked. I did not tell them that I had obtained a wish stone, and that it allowed me to change one bodily structure. Since Liam desperately wanted to be a woman, I would make his wish come true by giving him a huge bosom. He could massage them however he wanted.

My wife's first love was bound to an "overachiever" system—every ounce of exhaustion he racked up from grinding away at work got transferred straight to me. He pulled seven straight all-nighters to land a multi-million-dollar deal and became a legend in the industry. Meanwhile, I ended up in the ER with heart failure. When I tried to explain it to my wife, she shot me a look of pure disgust. "You're just born lazy," she snapped. "You can't stand seeing him succeed at such a young age, so you make up some sick fairy tale to accuse him." After that, every late night he pulled chipped away at my body. First came nervous exhaustion, then organ failure—until I was hanging on by a thread. I went to the hospital for tests, but the doctors couldn't find a thing. A few even hinted I might be suffering from paranoid delusions. Then, to get his company listed on the stock exchange, he locked himself in his office for two weeks straight. I wound up dead from overexertion in my own room. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night of his very first all-nighter. This time, I bolted the door, pulled out a full strip of sleeping pills, and smiled. "Time to sleep."

The day my scholarship came through, I was about to send the money to my grandfather in the hospital. Then I suddenly heard a voice. [The Transfer System says that as long as someone eats or drinks something I give them, I can move their money away without anyone noticing.] [Julian just got his scholarship. He'll make the perfect test subject.] [If the transfer works, I can use the money to buy those sneakers I've been wanting.] That voice clearly belonged to my roommate, Caleb Foster. Puzzled, I was just about to turn around to confirm it when a bottle of water was set on my desk. Caleb smiled warmly and said, "Julian, thanks for picking up my package yesterday. Here, have some water." A second later, his delighted inner voice rang out again. [Drink it. Drink it. Once you drink this water, your money will be mine!] Seeing the expectation and greed he couldn't hide in his eyes, fury rose from the bottom of my heart. He knew full well that scholarship was my grandfather's life-saving money. I took the bottle with a blank expression. He wanted to transfer my money away? Then I'd make sure he transferred more than he could handle.

The day I got fired, I received a trial pass from an AI cosmetic clinic. It required neither surgery nor recovery time, yet it could deliver a flawless celebrity face overnight. But there was a catch. The face only lasted seven days after the complimentary trial. To keep it, I signed a contract to become the actress' body double, trading my time, identity, and freedom for another week of beauty. As the years passed, I kept paying the price to maintain a face that wasn't mine until one day, I realized I no longer wanted to live in someone else's shadow.

Ever since I was little, I have been able to hear what human organs were saying. My sickly roommate was overjoyed when she found out about this. “Lena, you can hear organs talk, and I’ve got gastritis. You must’ve been sent by the heavens to protect me! From now on, I’m putting my health in your hands, okay?” After that, she came up with endless ways to make me wait on her. “Lena, I sent you the pickup code. You know I have gastritis. I can’t walk too much.” “Lena, I want pasta tomorrow. Make sure you hurry back with it. If it gets cold, it’ll hurt my stomach.” Every time, I would simply let out a sigh and agree. It was until one day, when I came back after grabbing something to eat, I accidentally overheard her talking on the phone. “What, organs talking? If Lena could really hear them, wouldn’t she have figured out that I’m faking it by now? If she wants to play along, I’ll play along too. “Some people are born to be the heroine of the story. Others are born to be servants. Perfect timing. I picked out a dress today. Just watch how I get her to pay for it.” I pretended I had not heard a thing, I pushed open the door. The moment she saw me, tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re finally back! Lena, I asked ChatGPT today and it said my gastritis has progressed into a stomach ulcer. I might not have much time left. “There’s this three thousand dollar dress I’ve wanted forever. Consider it compensation for neglecting me. Think of it as granting my final wish!” I let out a sigh and placed the order for her anyway. The instant I checked out the item, I caught the smug look in her eyes. She thought I was stupid. What she did not know was that I really could hear her stomach speaking. It had been telling me that it was turning cancerous.

I can hear the voices of every organ in the human body. In my three years of practicing medicine, I've never misdiagnosed a single patient. For instance, a young man with wobbly legs comes in for a consultation, suspecting he has a terminal illness. His kidneys, however, start cursing up a storm. "You're juggling eight girlfriends at the same time. Even a workhorse on a farm doesn't get worked this hard!" I try my best not to laugh, prescribe him some supplements, and casually suggest he learn a little time management. Then, a well-dressed white-collar professional walks in and tells me she's experiencing heart palpitations and dizziness and insists that she must have congenital heart disease. Her heart immediately protests loudly in my ear. "You drink three iced Americanos a day! I'm about to burst out of your ribcage and start doing calisthenics!" I smile and prescribe her some chamomile tea. Less than half a month later, she returns with a healthy, rosy complexion to present me with a banner of appreciation. From that moment on, I earn the nickname "the Human X-Ray". … One afternoon, a woman walks in with a listless-looking boy. Maeve Brown looks sick with worry. "Dr. Young, please take a look at him! Lennon has been suffering from headaches, and he has already taken several days off school due to them." However, his brain is practically throwing a party in my ear. "Hell yeah, I successfully skipped class! I'm going to grind ranked matches all night long!" I smile as I diagnose him with malingering, and Lennon White goes home with a flushed face. Ten days later, Maeve and Hubert White burst into my office. This time, Lennon's complexion is pallid. Bracing himself against the doorframe, his body sways uncontrollably. Initially, I assume he's putting on another performance. However, the moment I hear the voices emanating from within his body, my mind goes blank. I immediately push him out of the room and dial 911. "I'd rather treat a dog with this condition than treat you!"

My fiancé, Julian Vance, was the definition of a prince charming—the kind every woman in town would kill for. He was stunning to look at, a devoted lover, and looked at me with eyes so sweet they seemed to drip with honey. Chloe Mercer, my best friend, was a ray of sunshine. Whenever I needed a pick-me-up, she would show up with a strawberry crepe cake—sweet, soft, and comforting. They were the two most important people in my life, my sanctuary, whom I trusted with all my heart. Until the iron doors were welded shut. The screech of rusting metal scraping in the dark sounded like the wailing of damned souls from hell. Gasoline came seeping in through the crack under the door. When the flames roared to life, I heard Julian’s voice. He was standing right outside. Through billows of thick, suffocating smoke, his voice was gentle, caressing. “Hazel... I’m sorry. “Sterling Group’s ten-billion-dollar empire... “Starting today, it would be under the Vance name.” Chloe stood right by his side. The inferno cast a sickening crimson glow across her face. She didn’t utter a word. But the corners of her mouth were curled upward. Her eyes were overflowing with triumph. I choked down one last breath of heavy, toxic smoke. My lungs felt like they were being sliced up under a blade. I died—but did I?

At the base entrance, the guard stopped us for the usual inspection. “Your infection test came back negative, right?” I nodded. The guard was just about to let me through when Ethan Cross, the team’s new medic, suddenly spoke up. “Wait, Captain. What about that scratch on your arm from the mutated rat?” The air froze. The guard’s expression changed at once. “Captain Hale, is that true?” I gritted my teeth. “It is. But the wound has already been treated, and I have antibodies.” “I’m carrying a top-level mission. I need to enter the base immediately.” The guard hesitated, his hand already moving toward the gate controls. But Ethan stepped across my path and blocked me. “Captain! You were coughing badly on the way back. What if you’re a carrier?” Then he turned to the guard, his voice firm and absolute. “I request immediate quarantine for Falcon Squad and a full screening for Captain Hale.” The guard’s eyes sharpened. He raised his weapon. “I’m sorry, Captain Hale. You’ll need to come with me to isolation first.” I froze where I stood. A full screening would take at least forty minutes. But the zombie king in the base laboratory would awaken in thirty. I had to lead my team in and stop it before it broke free.

"On results day, I'll have a way to turn back time and take us all back to the exam room!" Lily Parker, the prettiest girl in our class, stood at the front of the room, threw up an arm, and shouted it at the top of her voice. "Sign up with me! Just $999. If it's a scam, I'll pay you back ten times over! "You'll even get a polished answer key for the college entrance exams. Guaranteed not to get flagged for cheating!" The classroom erupted. In the corner, I didn't even look up. I'd found the same method three days earlier. And I'd decided against it. For one simple reason: time inside that exam room was completely broken. Thirty seconds for English. Twelve hours for math. And between papers, three days and nights of hunger and thirst you couldn't survive twice.