Mind-Bending Short Stories & Male POV Family Emotions Novels

After the SAT, my daughter turned into something I didn't recognize. She repeatedly stabbed her grandmother, who had raised her, until the old woman bled to death. She pushed her little brother from the tenth floor and killed him on the spot. My wife and I tried to talk her down, our voices shaking, but she only laughed. "Grandma and Caleb were too good to me. That's why they had to die! And you two worked so hard to raise me. You paid for my education and gave me everything. You were too good to me, so you have to die!" Then she set us on fire. I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, I was back one week before my daughter's SAT. This time, I installed a hidden camera in her bedroom. I didn't care what it took. I was going to find out why she killed us. When my wife and I watched the footage later, neither of us could say a word.

Over Memorial Day weekend, my parents took my younger brother Max Blair on a hiking trip. I wasn't in the mood to go, so I stayed home and spent the day on the couch. By the time night fell, I still hadn't heard from them. None of them answered their phones, and a growing sense of dread settled over me. Around midnight, an emergency alert from a local news station flashed across my screen. [A landslide struck the Mount Highmoor area earlier this evening. Search and rescue crews have confirmed that three hikers were killed. Authorities are still working to verify their identities.] The victims shown in the report were my parents and Max. I was still trying to process the news when someone suddenly knocked on the front door. "Adam, open the door! We're back from our hike!"

Before our wedding, my girlfriend asks me, "If your mom and I both fell into a river and you could only save one of us, who would you choose?" In my first life, I choose my mom. My girlfriend drowns, taking our unborn child with her. She is only three months pregnant. In my second life, I choose my girlfriend. My mom drowns on her way to bring me chicken soup. In my third life, I refuse to answer. They both die. I open my eyes, and I'm reborn once again. My girlfriend folds her arms and asks me, "If your mom and I both fell into a river and you could only save one of us, who would you choose?"

I finally get a ticket to return home a few days before New Year's. But when the door opens, an unfamiliar man appears in front of me and asks, "Who are you?" I frown. "This is my house. I'm back for the holidays." His expression is cold. "You're in the wrong house. This is my place." I look at the apartment number. It is Building 3, Unit 901. I'm in the right place. I want to head inside, but he blocks my way. "Hey, don't go crazy right now." I notice the cardboard box by the door and point at it. "You're the crazy one. That's the gift I sent." The man grabs me and makes me look closer. "Take a good look!" The tracking number matches the one on my phone, but the sender's name says Steven Lowe, not mine. "Steven, who's at the door?" My mom, Dahlia Jones, steps out of the kitchen. I call out to her excitedly. "Mom, I'm home!" But the next moment, what she says made my blood run cold. "Who are you? Don't call me that. I'm not your mom."

On Father's Day, I received a heartwarming gift. My one-year-old son called me Dad for the first time. But moments later, he convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and died before we could reach the hospital. My wife was shattered, and I was devastated. The doctors couldn't identify the cause of his death. Three years later, my wife emerged from her grief, and we welcomed our second child. But the moment this child called me Dad, they, too, died instantly. To spare her further pain, I suggested adoption. Yet, even our adopted children met the same fate. Unable to bear the losses, my wife divorced me. Everyone said I was cursed, never meant to be a father. Defiant, I remarried and had another child, vowing never to let them call me Dad. For years, we adhered to this rule. But when our daughter turned four, she came home from preschool, eager to celebrate Father's Day. Holding a card, she read aloud, "Dad."