Short Stories & Novels

After I was taken into the mountains, I became the whole town's slave. If one field remained unharvested or one family's firewood went uncut, they beat my face bloody. They avoided my arms and legs only because they expected twice as much work from me the next day. On New Year's Eve, I finally decided I couldn't survive another day and went to the river to end my life, only to hear two people whispering behind the trees. "Watch yourself. He is still the Hawthornes' biological son. They sent him to Red Willow Hollow to learn discipline, not for you to use however you want." "Biological son? His parents haven't asked about him in years. They already have another boy, the polished young heir who visited last time. The difference between them is night and day. "If anything happens, we'll blame him. Mrs. Hawthorne said that a boy without manners doesn't deserve to be her son. He may as well die out here." I stood frozen above the river, forgetting even why I had come. My mother always boasted that her family came from old money. She said a gentleman's most important quality was proper conduct. So why, after seeing my body, did she abandon every rule of dignity she had ever demanded from me?

From the day I was born, Mom never treated me like her daughter. I was Catherine Baldwin's older sister, the example Mom used to keep her in line. When Catherine stole ten dollars from Mom's purse to buy stickers, Mom made me stand facing the living room wall all afternoon. Then she pointed at me and told Catherine, "Look at Allison. For every dollar you steal, she stands there for an hour. You do the math." When Catherine refused to eat her vegetables, Mom stopped giving me breakfast for three days. I got so hungry that I snuck into the kitchen and ate cold leftovers straight from the fridge. When Mom caught me, she didn't yell. She simply turned to Catherine and said, "See how hungry Allison is? Keep being picky, and you'll be the one who goes without food next time." When Catherine started dating in middle school, and a teacher caught her passing notes to a boy in class, Mom sent me to the school in her place. She made me stand in the main office and read Catherine's written apology aloud in front of the teachers. Halfway through, my voice gave out. Mom snatched the paper from my hands and finished reading it herself, slowly and clearly, making sure everyone heard every word. Afterward, she pulled me into the hallway and said, "Catherine has a reputation to protect. I couldn't let her be humiliated in front of her teachers. You're her sister. It's your job to take the fall for her." I was 15, and Catherine was 13. By then, I had already been punished for her, gone hungry for her, and humiliated myself for her. It took me years to realize that was only the beginning. The worst was yet to come.

I've been sponsoring a poor student named Sophie Martin who's about to drop out, allowing her to graduate from university without a hitch. When Sophie confesses to me on graduation day, I firmly reject her advances. I didn't expect her to slander me after her failed confession, accusing me of sponsoring her only because I want to keep her by my side for salacious reasons. I'm thrust into the eye of the storm and forced to endure endless criticisms. My university fires me to save its reputation. No other school dares to employ me. I become depressed due to constant verbal harassment from the netizens. I barely survive as I hide in a dim basement every day. One day, I see Sophie on the news by chance. She has become an inspirational microcelebrity and is enjoying a life of fame and fortune. Infuriated, I seek her out and demand an explanation. But she pushes me off the building, leading to my death. After I died, Sophie tells the public that I refused to give up and continued to harass her, claiming that's the reason why I slipped and fell off the building. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've been transported back in time to the day that Sophie tells me that she's going to drop out of school.

After passing my veterinary licensing exam, I posted the news online to celebrate. My elderly neighbor, Gloria Vance, immediately fired off a string of messages. [Miles, my grandson's sick. Could you treat him?] [I'm really worried about the boy. He's had a fever for days now.] I slowly typed out a single: [?] Another message came through. [We're neighbors, after all. Just show a little compassion and save the child.] Trying to be kind, I wrote back, [Mrs. Vance, if your grandson's sick, you need to get him to a hospital right away. I can't treat him.] To my surprise, she fired back a voice message. "Aren't you studying medicine? What's the harm in taking a look at my grandson? How can a person be so stingy? "If you won't help, I'll report you to your university and have them expel a student with character as rotten as yours!" I was floored. I study veterinary medicine. How am I supposed to treat a human child?

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!"

On my 20th birthday, I called out toward the living room out of habit, "Chester, Milford, Collin... I'm 20 today. You promised you'd celebrate my every birthday." All that responded to me was silence. On the sofa sat the plush dolls of my brothers and my childhood sweetheart. They sat there with their round eyes open, quietly keeping me company just like they had on so many nights before. Only then did I remember that they had abandoned me long ago. When I was ten, I was diagnosed with kidney disease. My eldest brother brought home a girl from the orphanage, saying that her kidney matched mine and that she was the sister who came to save my life. But before she ever made it to the operating table, she became everyone's new favorite. After chemo, I couldn't eat spicy food, yet my eldest brother cooked spicy Thai and Mexican dishes for every meal. "Lena is going to lose a kidney. What's wrong with letting her eat what she likes now?" When she took a liking to my coming-of-age necklace, my second brother took it off me on the spot and gave it to her. "She's giving you a kidney. Giving her a necklace isn't too much, right?" My childhood sweetheart promised to accompany me to my follow-up appointment, but he broke his word to take her to a concert instead. "She might not have opportunities like this in the future. You can handle one night." Even my life-saving surgery was delayed again and again because she wanted to see the ocean, go skydiving, and chase the Northern Lights. And just because I mentioned that living in a massive house by myself made me scared and that I wanted to go out and play with them, they used it as an excuse to send me away to a rental apartment. The night I moved in, I made three dolls modeled after their appearances. They accompanied me to eat, sleep, and listened to me talk through every bout of pain. Today, I used the last of my savings to buy a second-hand car. I wanted to go see Lake Tahoe, the place we once promised to visit together. And after that, I'd never look back.

After being tortured by kidnappers for three days and three nights, my wife, Abigail Hunley, empties our savings to pay my ransom. But as I lie on the operating table, barely clinging to life, I overhear her talking to the doctor. She instructs, "Later on, cut up my husband's face. Make sure no amount of plastic surgery can ever fix it. And while you're at it, break his leg. Make sure he never stands again for the rest of his life." The doctor is stunned. "But Lorne Carmack is the most handsome stage actor in our country. Ms. Hunley, are you really going to ruin the man you love most just for Noah Jenner?" Abigail replies, "It's okay. Lorne will understand why I have to do this. He loves me so much that even if he finds out the truth someday, he'll forgive me. Never mind. Destroy his eyesight as well. What he can't see won't hurt him. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to him." A chill runs down my spine as overwhelming fear and grief consume me. The wife who once loved me more than life itself is willing to destroy my future for the sake of her first love. If the love we've shared for the past ten years is nothing but a lie, then I don't want it anymore.

On my father-in-law Charlie Moore's sixtieth birthday, I rented out the VIP box at the Titan Boxing Gym so he could watch his favorite event with me, the championship title fight. The match was in full swing when the door to our box was kicked open. A man dripping in name brands stormed in with a pack of bodyguards, jabbing a finger in Charlie's face and cursing him out. "Where'd this old relic come from, thinking he can squat in my private box?" "I rented this fight tonight for my own entertainment. Get out, now." I kept my expression flat and my voice cold. "I paid in full for this box weeks ago, and the venue confirmed it. What gives you the right to throw us out?" The man sneered, looking at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "Paid in full? The entire Titan Boxing Gym was an engagement gift from my woman! This is my territory. I make the rules here. "People like you, reeking of poverty, ought to be grateful. If you dirty my leather couch, selling the both of you wouldn't even cover the cost." Charlie shook with rage. I just smiled. Since when had a gym I'd handed off to my wife, Cassidy Moore, to run under her name, become someone else's engagement-gift plaything?

My roommate Sue Lynd had gotten addicted to the tiramisu that went viral lately, and always brought a box back to our room every evening. She always kept telling us how smooth and sweet it tasted, but I never cared for it, until the day before the announcement of postgraduate admissions. I was reviewing past exam papers when I saw the lines scribbled on the sheet. [Your roommate Sue Lynd will ask you to get her tiramisu tonight, and then she will leave the room in a hurry.] [The next day, the cops will arrest you for premeditated bodily harm, and you will be exposed on the internet for poisoning your roommate, drawing public outrage.] [You will miss your postgraduate admission interview, after which that spot falls to Sue.] [The cyberviolence won't stop, with even your parents losing their livelihoods, while you die from mental breakdown and severe depression.] I threw the sheet aside—must be seeing things since my stress had been building up. However, as evening arrived, Sue entered the room, asking in her melodious voice, "Can you get me tiramisu, Zoe?" My brain short-circuited for a moment—the scribble was actually prophetic?! As Sue smiled sweetly and leaned close, I felt the creeps because the most important part of those scribbles still weighed heavily on my mind: [You will miss your postgraduate admission interview, after which that spot falls to Sue.] She wants to destroy my life over a spot at postgraduate admission? My fingers clenched around my pen, and I replied, "Sorry. Can't do."

Six years into our long-distance relationship, I've finally saved enough to buy a house. I want to surprise my girlfriend, Madeleine Petty, so I secretly travel to the city she's living in, planning to propose. When the receptionist hears that I'm looking for Madeleine, she beams and hands me a box of wedding favors. "You're here to drop off a gift, aren't you? Our CEO, Ms. Petty, is getting married today, so these favors are for you." I'm just about to explain that the Madeleine Petty I'm looking for is just a low-level employee when a familiar figure steps out of the elevator—Madeleine's college roommate, Tara Diaz. Seeing her dressed in a bridesmaid's gown, I ask her in earnest, "Who's getting married today? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Just then, Tara's phone rings, and my childhood best friend's voice crackles through the speaker. "Why aren't you here yet?" Sid Beale huffs. "Madeleine and Richard's wedding is about to start! The bridesmaid can't be late!"

I, my best friend, and my girlfriend are in our fourth year at the same law firm. People jokingly call us "The Three Musketeers". When colleagues egg us on to play "Never Have I Ever", my best friend, Owen Steele, is the first to speak. "Never have I ever been Chelsea's best partner." I respond with a smile, "Never have I ever been her live-in boyfriend." Owen doesn't back down. "Never have I ever been driven to and from work by her." My smile freezes, and I fold one finger down. For four whole years, my girlfriend, Chelsea Moran, always uses different work schedules as an excuse to make me take the bus and the subway. Owen ignores my pale face and continues, "Never have I ever talked with Chelsea for eight hours a day. Never have I ever stayed up all night with her three times a week. Never have I ever bought the red lingerie she wears." The whole room erupts in laughter and then falls into an eerie silence. By now, I only have one finger left standing. Owen leans in close and suddenly smiles. "Never have I ever had her meet my parents instead of yours on Independence Day." My breath catches. I turn to look at Chelsea, who remains expressionless. No wonder she doesn't answer my calls and even breaks the industry taboo by turning off her phone for 24 hours. It turns out she is off meeting her new in-laws. My fingers are all down now, and I walk away right in front of Chelsea.

At our engagement party, the woman my fiance, Evan Hartley, hasn't seen in six years; the one who got away, is working as a waitress. When a drunk guest won't leave her alone, he rushes over and shields her in front of every guest in the room. I think he still has feelings for her. But in the next moment, his expression turns cold, and he shoves his assistant's business card into her hand. "He'll set you up with a decent job. Stay out of my life." The next day, she shows up at his office anyway, in a soaking-wet delivery uniform, dropping off food. He can barely contain his anger. "I told you to call my assistant. Why are you still doing this kind of work?" She pushes him away, her eyes rimmed red. "I can take care of myself. I don't need your pity." After a long silence, he wraps his arms around her from behind, his voice low and rough. "I owe you for what happened back then. From now on, I'll make it up to you myself." Before long, she's his secretary. She travels with him on business trips, sits through his client dinners, and stays late with him at the office. Gradually, on the nights he doesn't come home, she's the one who picks up when I call. Her voice drips with satisfaction she can barely hide. "Ms. Ellison, he had too much to drink. He's already asleep. I'll take good care of him for you. "After all, this is something I'm very good at." I smile, hang up, and read a message from the hotel manager. "Ms. Ellison, please confirm the wedding arrangements." I reply, "Everything stays as planned. But the groom might need to be swapped out."

Three years after my parents’ divorce, I ran into my sister while I was performing on the streets. She stepped down from a city management vehicle and froze for a moment when she realized the person working so hard to breathe fire was me. She walked toward me, her steps slightly uneasy. “You’re affecting public order. You’re coming with us.” After I finished giving my statement, my mother arrived too. She paid my fine for me, then handed me a bank card. “Stop embarrassing yourself out here. Take this money and find a school to attend again.” I did not move. When I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse and unpleasant. “Where were you when Dad and I needed you the most?” My harsh words made my sister frown. “Everyone had their own struggles back then. You don’t have to blame Mom for everything.” My mother’s expression darkened as she began lecturing me, “Why are you just as stubborn as your father? If you had come with me, would you have ended up begging on the streets? Tell your father that as long as he admits he was wrong, I’ll acknowledge you as my son again.” I looked at them, but the words were stuck in my throat. Did they really not know that my father had already died three years ago?

The company janitor suffers a heart attack, and I race toward the elevator with him on my back. But the new COO, Alexis Brown, refuses to let us in with the excuse that we're dirty and smelly. I beg her, but she just scoffs and has security pin me to the floor. Then she takes the elevator down and deliberately presses every floor button to delay us. The janitor misses the critical window for treatment and dies on my back. The next day, Alexis calls a company meeting and shifts the blame on me. She tries to fire me for causing a disturbance at work and even demands compensation for her emotional distress. I look at her coldly before putting the security footage up on the big screen. Then, I say, "Ms. Brown, you left your own father to die. He sacrificed everything to put you through college. How are you going to pay for that?"

The night I earned admission to West Point, my younger brother, who had envied me since childhood, deliberately started a fight and seriously injured someone. When the victim's family came demanding answers, my parents dropped to their knees and begged me. "You've always been more capable than your brother. You can still rebuild your future." "But if Mason goes to prison, his whole life will be ruined." I gave in and took the blame, destroying everything I had worked for. My girlfriend, Vanessa Hale, despised Mason for constantly causing trouble. "Julian, you big idiot. "If you ever clean up another one of his messes, I really will leave you." Her eyes reddened behind the prison visitation glass as she defended me. Through three years in prison and monthly visits, she kept promising we would marry as soon as I was released. By the time I got out, my parents had moved to a new house. After a long search, the person who opened the door was Vanessa. Mason casually wrapped an arm around her waist and looked at me with open provocation. "Julian, let me introduce you to my fiancee." My parents stood nearby, rubbing their hands together. "They genuinely love each other. Don't try to take your brother's happiness away." Vanessa lowered her eyes and turned the new diamond ring on her finger. "You have a felony record now. If I married you, our future family would live under that shadow." Mason leaned closer with a grin. "Julian, I'm the better man now." I squeezed the crumpled West Point admission letter in my pocket and smiled too. Some debts had finally come due.

The day SAT scores dropped, my twin sister Emily totally tanked. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Mom, Dad, and Kenneth spent all night babying her. After midnight, Mom finally remembered I existed. "Amelia, what'd you get?" I checked my score. 1580. "Good enough for Halston." Halston was one of the best colleges in the country. The whole room went dead silent. For one stupid second, I thought they might actually be proud of me. Dad just stared. "You and Emily are twins. You look almost exactly alike. "Why don't you switch identities? "Let Emily go to Halston as you."

To escape my father's constant matchmaking, I moved into Westbridge Towers in Ashford, Franklin, a building my family developed. After I agreed to pick up an elderly neighbor's grandson from preschool once, she began telling everyone that I was the child's father. "He abandoned my daughter after getting her pregnant, and now he regrets it. "Yesterday he even volunteered to pick up his son because he wants to make amends." Furious, I posted footage from the camera outside my door to expose the lie. "You begged me to pick up the boy. How did that become proof that I fathered him? "I've barely met your daughter. The child can't possibly be mine. Spread one more lie and I'll call the police." The old woman glared at me and knocked the phone from my hand with her cane. "Marrying my daughter would be the best thing that ever happened to you. The property manager is practically family. "Don't be ungrateful. One word from me, and you'll be thrown out of this building." The entire building belongs to my family, and she still thinks she can evict me?

I was the only female carpenter in town, and I made caskets at cost price for anyone in the area who needed one. Everyone said I was generous, kind-hearted, the whole routine. Then one afternoon, Doug Hadley showed up at my shop with his wife Trish Grady and a handful of neighbors to order a cremation urn. Trish stared at the price tag. "An urn for only 50 dollars? What is this, scrap wood?" Doug shot her a look. "Don't run your mouth about things you don't understand. It's solid ebony. Bridget makes them herself, so it's cheaper." Trish snickered behind her hand. "Solid ebony? That might fool someone who doesn't know any better. My cousin runs a funeral supply shop, so trust me, I know what I'm looking at. This isn't ebony. It's plywood. It's five dollars' worth of material, tops. "I can take you all to my cousin's place. I'll make sure he gives us a deal." The neighbors were already nodding. "The urn's supposed to last a hundred years. Obviously, I want the best for my mom." "Selling plywood and calling it ebony... You ought to be ashamed." "Come on, let's all go to Trish's cousin. I'm not giving her the chance to make dirty money off any of us." Dirty money? As far as I knew, mine was the only shop in town that actually stocked real ebony. Everyone else used MDF. If they were not afraid of the thing falling apart, they were welcome to go for it.

On the day my family buys a new car, everyone excitedly starts making plans for the future. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, they'll drive my brother, Jake Walt, to the science museum. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, they'll take my mom to the gym. Most importantly, they'll drive my younger sister, Emily Walt, to and from college every day. Even though she's required to live on campus, my parents can't bear to let her commute alone, so they'd rather make the six-mile round trip every single day. They map out everyone's schedule except mine. When I leave for graduate school, I take a rideshare by myself. But after Emily uses my payment account to buy herself a new phone, I no longer have enough money to pay the toll and the driver abandons me at a highway rest stop. Stranded under the blazing sun, I call home, hoping for help. Instead, I'm met with nothing but blame. My parents scold me for inconveniencing them. "We're taking Emily to school. You expect us to turn around and waste all that gas?" My childhood friend, Patrick Green, says I brought it on myself. "I warned you not to go so far away for grad school. This is your own fault." Jake mocks me. "You made good money over the summer, didn't you? You're old enough to figure this out yourself instead of expecting everyone to rescue you." Looking at the money left in my wallet—the rest of my summer earnings already "borrowed" to buy Emily's college supplies—I finally realize the truth. In this family, I'm never treated like a daughter. When the elevator is overloaded, they push me out without hesitation. When the new house's fingerprint lock only allows five users, they give the last spot to Emily's dog instead of me. If there's never been room for me in this family, then it's time to stop trying to force my way in.

Mom was Dad's dirty little secret. Every year, he would hold her and promise, Wait for me. We'll have our mating ceremony next year. Five years passed, but he mated with another woman instead, making her his Luna. Mom grew bitter and unhinged. She even resorted to abusing me just to get Dad's attention. Go call your father! Tell him you're sick and he needs to see you! But after she pulled that trick so many times, Dad grew disgusted with me. Learning to lie like your mother already. Sickening. Later, Dad's Luna had a daughter. Rumors of their perfect, loving family spread through the pack. Mom lost her mind completely. On my seventh birthday, she fed me a micro-dose of wolfsbane and ordered me to call Dad over. I begged her to take me to the pack hospital. She snapped impatiently, It's just a little wolfsbane. Take the antidote in a minute and you'll be fine. Stop being such a baby! Dad rushed over, only to shove Mom to the floor in annoyance. If you use this little liar to trick me again, you won't get another dime from me! Screams and sobs tangled in the air. I lay on the freezing floor, slowly losing consciousness. Before I died, I thought, "Without me here, they won't have to fight anymore." But after I actually died, Mom and Dad both said they regretted it.