Bizarre Imagination Short Stories & Ruthless Novels

Just because my wolf mom scratched Ava Shaw's favorite dress, Noah Potter called a butcher. He punished her seriously. I found her dying body and screamed at him. "I told you before—I was raised by wolves. What you did to her is no different from killing my mother!" Noah stayed cold. He covered Ava's eyes and stared at me. "You are just a stray kid my stepmom picked up. Stop trying to fool me." My wolf mom was still bleeding as she dragged herself toward me. I crawled to her and held her tight. "I stayed here to repay Noah's family for helping the wolf pack. You chased me for miles because you could not let me go. I never thought I would end up hurting you instead." That night, I held my wolf mom and knelt in front of Aunt Wendy's memorial. "Aunt Wendy, the Potters' Zoo are everywhere now. They do not need my gift anymore. I should leave."

When I woke up, I had somehow become trapped in the body of my disobedient daughter. I had sacrificed everything, living frugally to send her to the best school. Yet, she called me almost daily, claiming—like someone trapped in a paranoid delusion—that her teachers and classmates were out to harm her. She was willful and rebellious, picky about food, befriending the wrong crowd, and even dating a troublemaker at a young age. As a sister, she was far from kind, constantly bullying her younger brother. And school? Surely, it couldn’t be harder than working a full-time job. But then, as I lived in her shoes, a group of girls cornered me in the restroom, kicking me mercilessly. Returning home, I was met not with care but with a sorry excuse for a meal. Only then did I begin to understand the pain my daughter had endured...

Everyone in our neighborhood knew me as the meek full-time housewife. I had no income and no social life. Every hour of every day went to the kitchen, my child, and my hypercritical mother-in-law, Sofia Carter. Yet when I woke up, I had somehow swapped bodies with my insufferably smug husband, Kevin Carter. My phone lit up as he sent one mocking message after another: [Olivia, you act like having a baby entitles you to lie around at home all day, watch the kid, and throw together a couple of meals.] [For your information, this swap is permanent. I can finally get some rest.] [Don't run your mouth at my office. That management job is way beyond what a brain that never even made it through college can handle.] When I finished reading, I stared at the stubble-covered man in the bathroom mirror and burst into tearful laughter. He had no idea. My meekness and numbness had been bought with my health. From the day I married him, I never got more than five hours of sleep. At twenty-two, I suffered a severe hemorrhage during a difficult delivery. At twenty-four, I developed severe tendinitis. At twenty-six, after years of exhaustion and Sofia grinding me down, I was diagnosed with moderate depression. To him, I was never a wife. I was a live-in maid he didn't have to pay, someone he could take his temper out on whenever he pleased.