Short Stories & Novels

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."

My son, Archie Burton, has a bad habit of being painfully honest. I ask him, "Am I handsome?" "To be honest, Dad," he says, "you're the ugliest dad in the whole kindergarten." My mother-in-law tears into me for being a spendthrift after I buy Archie an expensive backpack, and I ask him how he feels about it. "Honestly," he says, "it makes me happy to watch you get chewed out." My wife asks him jokingly if he'll take care of me when I get old. "No way am I looking after him," he says. "When he gets old, he should just die." My heart sinks. But Archie just smiles. "I'm only telling the truth!" Then the police come by to conduct a census check and ask him a few simple questions. He is brutally honest as usual. Only this time, he regrets it for the rest of his life.

"Honey, maybe we should tell your mom to stop treatment." On Christmas Eve, after spending the day cooking dinner for my in-laws, I was getting ready to head to the hospital and keep my mother, Deborah Ramsey, company through the night. Just as I reached the door, my husband, Blaine Ramsey, stopped me. It took me a moment to process what he'd said. I turned and stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?" He lowered his head and stayed silent. My mother-in-law, Rosalia Ramsey, however, answered with an impatient glare, "It means exactly what he said. Your mother's treatment should stop. Her illness is nothing but a bottomless pit that's going to swallow who knows how much money." I immediately argued, "The doctor said she has a 90% chance of making a full recovery. After surgery and about two years of rehabilitation, she'll be fine. She has medical insurance, so after reimbursement, it won't even cost that much." My sister-in-law, Aviana Ramsey, rolled her eyes and chimed in, "Doesn't that still mean there's a 10% chance she won't make it? "And even if she does recover, she'll just be useless. She doesn't have a pension. She'll end up relying on Blaine to support her anyway. "So why not stop the treatment now? At least she won't drag everyone else down." I looked at Blaine. He kept his head down without saying a word. I didn't argue anymore. I picked up the lunch box and left for the hospital. Had they forgotten? The house they were living in—the one they called a burden—had been bought outright by the very woman they wanted to abandon. Three days later, Rosalia collapsed during a family dinner and was rushed to the hospital. It was late-stage cancer. Blaine and his family panicked, talking about selling the house to pay for her treatment. Leaning against the wall, I yawned. "Honey, I already sold the house. Maybe your mom should just stop treatment. It'd be a waste of money."

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."

On the eve of the driving school's simulated road test, all twelve of my students signed a petition demanding I be fired. "Coach Sutton, we paid to get our licenses—not to hear you tell us every day we're going to kill someone." "All you ever do is slam the instructor brake or grab the steering wheel. Anyone who learns from you is doomed." The ringleader, Sienna Vaughn, threw a petition in my face before uploading a carefully edited video online. In the clip, I repeatedly stomped on the passenger-side brake and barked orders for students to pull over. Caption: "Gold Medal Coach... or Crazy Coach? Students are too terrified to touch the wheel." What she left out was everything that happened a split second before: the child who ran into the crosswalk just as I hit the brake, and the box truck drifting into our lane the instant I grabbed the wheel. Months earlier, when my previous class crashed on the freeway, I injured my knee pulling students out of the wreckage. The damage never fully healed. Ever since then, I'd become stricter behind the wheel. I braked when they ran a yellow light. I took the wheel if they didn't look in the mirror when changing lanes. Anyone who dared to touch their phone would have their training ended on the spot. But while I was at the hospital for a follow-up appointment, I overheard Sienna laughing in the stairwell. "Coach Sutton's just traumatized. Once we get her fired, let's see if she still sticks her nose into everyone's business." When I returned to the driving school, the owner, Victor Cross, told me to apologize and smooth things over. I looked at the twelve signatures on the petition and smiled. "Sure. Starting today, I won't touch the passenger brake for any of you."

My mother loved obedience tests. I told her I couldn't eat ginger, and she put it in every single meal. "Who's allergic to ginger? You're just being picky." For my eighteenth birthday she went out and bought half a ton of it, then made an all-ginger banquet and a bottle of homemade ginger perfume. She looked at me, pleased with herself. "Ginger cures everything. I'm doing this for your own good." "Only a spoiled kid refuses ginger. I minced it all up this time. Let's see you pick it out now." My mother was delighted. As far as she was concerned, the test had worked. What she didn't know was that I'd never lied to her. My ginger allergy was severe. Once I'd eaten or breathed in that much of it, the symptoms would build over the next two hours, and they could kill me.

After our coming-of-age presentation, everyone at Hemsworth Hall discussed my twin sister's marriage prospects. My brother pointed to the first name in the kingdom's registry of noble houses. "The heir to House Bellamy is the only man worthy of our Lydia." Our childhood friend, a young marquess, blushed as he offered her his formal proposal. "Ignore your brother. Marry me, and we can spend our lives beside the person who has known us since childhood." Our parents smiled in agreement. "Lydia may marry whomever she chooses, as long as she can remain in the capital." Only much later did they remember that I had also reached marriageable age. "Rosalind, you have neither Lydia's beauty nor her accomplishments. A respectable man without a title will do." My brother answered without even looking up. "That way, everyone can remain near the capital and gather during the holidays." My childhood friend gave a contemptuous laugh. "Once you marry, you can't keep acting on every whim. If you disgrace yourself in public, you'll shame more than the Hemsworth name." Inside my sleeve, my fingers slowly closed around the royal marriage charter. Since no one cared whom I married, I would accept the King's decree.

I could see floating live-chat comments from the future. And that little trick saved me from dozens of cheating scumbags. But today, my adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum. I had to pick a fiancé, or else… The family’s real daughter, Wendy Wellington, who was recently found and welcomed back with open arms, clutched my hands. Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed to a man in a wheelchair. The man, Harry Peterson, wore a faded undershirt and a tattered blanket over his knees. Word on the street was that he had gone bankrupt, owing over a hundred million dollars. "Sister, my health is too fragile for a hard life," Wendy sniffled while trying to hide her smirk. "What would people say if the real heiress was seen riding a public bus? “You’re so much stronger than me. Do this one for the sake of the family." She glanced over at a guy leaning against a blood-red Ferrari nearby. "I’ll handle the billionaire’s son," she added quickly. "You shouldn't be blinded by money to make a mistake." I looked at Harry in the wheelchair. Floating right above his head was a wall of glowing comments. “LOL! She’s dumping the city’s richest hidden billionaire for a guy who’s going to prison next week?” “He’s only playing broke and disabled to catch his rivals off guard. Once he clears his name next month, his net worth is going to skyrocket!” I squeezed my sister’s hands tight and a sweet smile spread across my face. "Since you've put so much thought into my future, I would hate to disappoint you," I said. "I'll take the guy in the wheelchair.”

Three days after the college acceptances came out, my parents rented the biggest banquet hall in town to throw my sister, Makayla, a party. The hotel manager asked whose names should go on the invitation header. Mom didn't even hesitate before filling in Makayla's. "Just write Makayla's. She's had it tough since she was little, and she worked so hard to get into nursing school. At least now she has a bright future ahead of her." Dad was sitting right beside her, carefully picking out the seat right in the middle of the head table for Makayla. "Makayla will sit here. That way, guests will see her as soon as they walk in. It'll let everyone know the Martins haven't mistreated her." Seeing me remain silent, my brother Jason dropped his usual harsh tone, softening his voice for once. "Emma, don't overthink it. We're just leaving your name off this time. "Everyone knows you've always gotten good grades. Putting your name on it will only upstage Makayla. If guests start asking questions, imagine how embarrassing that'd be for her." It wasn't until it came time to pay the deposit that Mom finally glanced at me with a frown. "Come early on the day of the banquet and stand by the entrance to welcome everyone. Your sister is timid and doesn't know how to entertain people." "Another thing, if anyone asks how you did on your exam, just say you did fine. Don't say anything that'll make people feel uncomfortable." I kept my head down, staring at the text message on my phone that no one in this room cared about. [Emma Martin, you have passed the final selection for the Green Ear Project.] It turned out that in their eyes, the bright future I fought tooth and nail for didn't even compare to Makayla's nursing program. Since my name wasn't on their invitation, I guessed they didn't belong in my future.

Frank Carter has been my private driver and personal assistant for the past three years, but lately he has become impossible to deal with. I ask him to pick up fresh seafood for dinner, but he comes back with nothing more than a bag of frozen shrimp and a few sausages. "Frank, didn't I ask you to buy fresh seafood from the market?" He tosses the grocery bag onto the counter and shrugs. "The seafood isn't fresh today. I'll check again tomorrow." The next day, he comes back with a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. "Seafood's expensive," he says with a grin. "This is premium Worcestershire sauce. Just a splash of this, and the food will taste just as good." I sigh. "You don't have to worry about the cost. We can afford to have seafood every now and then." But things only get worse. Over the next week, Frank keeps bringing home cheaper groceries. Soon, seafood disappears from the menu altogether, along with any decent cuts of meat. Just as I'm debating whether to grab a proper meal somewhere, I overhear Frank talking on the phone in the garage. "Lucas Reed is such a loser. He doesn't deserve a wife like Vivian Grant. Once I introduce my son, Mike Carter, to her, she'll dump that freeloader in no time. Mike will take his place soon enough." I almost laugh. I've been planning to renew Frank's contract for another year. I even plan to help his newly graduated son land a job at Vivian's company. Well, not anymore.

After hitting the five-million-dollar jackpot, I plan to leave every cent to my son, Caleb Dawson. But sitting inside the notary office, I suddenly hesitate. My wife, Zoey Watts, looks at me in utter confusion. "Caleb passed the test, so why are you hesitating?" A few days ago, I found a lottery ticket on the street that turned out to be worth five million dollars. Zoey was ecstatic. She immediately wanted to call our son and daughter, but I stopped her. "We can't just hand over five million dollars. Tell them I'm terminally ill. Whoever steps up to pay for my treatment gets the money." Our kids have always been good to us, so Zoey accused me of overthinking things. But our daughter, Jayda Dawson's, reaction completely blindsided us. She lives in a mansion and drives a luxury car. Yet, she only handed me 200 bucks, told me not to bother her, and ordered me to get out. Meanwhile, Caleb has just graduated and doesn't even have a job yet. Still, he gave me all 3,000 dollars he saved up over the years. Without any hesitation, Zoey and I decide to leave the entire five million dollars to Caleb. But now, I have changed my mind. "Sir, I want to leave everything to my daughter!" Zoey snaps. "Henry Dawson! Have you lost your mind?" I shake my head. "My mind is perfectly clear. Mom came to me in a dream last night."

Ever since Mom loses the baby, Dad has been spending his time keeping his late classmate's wife company. So I take scissors to our family photos, cutting him out of every single one. When Mom receives a call from my school, she overhears me telling a classmate that my dad is dead and asking if I can borrow theirs instead. Mom freezes for a moment before admitting, "Yeah, he died young." When family sports day rolls around, Mom catches me slipping a ten-dollar bill to the school guard, begging him to pretend to be my dad for the day. Instead of stopping me, she quietly hands the guard 200 dollars, making sure he attends the parent-teacher conference with me. Whenever an event requires a father figure, Mom simply lets me rent one. Eventually, it dawns on Dad that he hasn't heard anything from us in a long time. He clears his entire schedule for the afternoon to pick me up from school, but my teacher stops him at the school gate. Dad heads back home in confusion. The second he steps through the front door, he overhears me speaking to the maintenance guy. "My dad's dead," I tell him. "Do you want to be my new dad?"

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?"

I'm a half-baked forensic examiner whose only redeeming quality is the ability to understand animals. The crime scene is inside a lavish villa. The lady of the house lies dead on the floor with a blunt-force injury to the back of her head so deep that her bone is visible. The safe has been pried open, and a million dollars in cash has vanished without a trace. Clear shoe prints mark the backyard wall, evidence that someone has climbed over it. "This one's clear as day. This is a textbook robbery-homicide. The suspect is likely a young male, around six feet tall, has a prior theft record, and knows how to cover his tracks. Check the surveillance footage in the area and look into places where he might've moved the stolen cash." The director of the forensic science center, Egbert Woodward, has been in the profession for three decades and is a widely respected authority. The officers at the scene nod in unison and begin taking notes. I'm the only one who stares at the 30 flies circling the ceiling for a full 3 minutes before taking a step forward and piping up, "Dr. Woodward, this isn't a robbery-homicide. It's a crime of passion. The murderer is the victim's husband!"

The day my sister, Megan Slade, was taken back by her wealthy birth family, she begged her parents with tears in her eyes. "Colin Carter's my brother. I'm all he has left. If he can't come with me, then I won't go back," she said. In the end, her parents had no choice but to bring me back home with her. When we first came to the Slade family, the fake heir, Joel Slade, who had lived as their son for over ten years was spoiled rotten and constantly targeted both me and Megan. At first, Megan was annoyed by him. Whenever her parents asked her to be more patient with Joel since he was her brother, she would always say without hesitation, "Colin's my only brother." But later, she never said those words again. Sometimes, she would even compare me to him. "I wish you were more cheerful like Joel. You're always so quiet." That day, she forgot my birthday again. I didn't make a fuss. I quietly made myself a cake. But the moment I finished it, she picked it up and casually brought it to Joel. "The cake Joel ordered got ruined on the way, and he's been upset about it," she said, "just give this one to him." I was so hurt that I didn't say a word all night. Seeing that, she looked at me with impatience evident in her eyes. "You're giving me an attitude over a cake? If you didn't want to share, why didn't you just say so?" Megan snapped at me. Joel made a face. "I told you before that your brother was petty, but you wouldn't believe me. I really don't understand why you brought that dead weight back with you." This time, Megan didn't argue back. So it turned out that even she saw me as a burden now.

The day I got my acceptance letter from Aldercrest University, I saw myself seven days into the future. "After Mom and Dad saw that Aldercrest took me, were they proud of me? "Did Cameron and Evan finally stop saying I couldn't measure up to Tessa in any way?" I couldn't keep the hope out of my voice. What answered me was a bitter laugh. "No. "When they found out Aldercrest accepted me, Tessa couldn't handle it and ran away from home. "She was gone all night, and the family spent that whole night blaming me. For showing off. For not applying to the same school as her. "After they found her, Mom and Dad took us on a trip to cheer her up, and we ran into a mudslide. "Every one of them abandoned me to protect Tessa, right when I was about to be rescued." Her voice faltered, and grief came over her face. "They rushed a frightened Tessa to the hospital, never knowing I'd already been dead for twenty-four hours. "You've seen how I end up. Whether you tell them is up to you."

At the height of my little menace era, I'm busy pinning Marlon Briggs to the ground and making him lick my shoes for stealing my milk. Just then, a dozen luxury cars roll up and completely block the entrance to the orphanage. A tycoon crouches down in front of me, his hand trembling with emotion as he reaches out to pat my head. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I found you too late. You've suffered so much." A chubby girl with a runny nose from the next class shivers and mutters under her breath, "Suffered? Yesterday, he used a slingshot to make a bunch of troublemakers kneel on the ground and beg him for mercy…'" I take a sip from the nearly empty juice box in my hand, meanwhile calculating how many juice boxes I can buy if I pawn the watch on my new dad's wrist. At that moment, New Dad's assistant answers a phone call and immediately breaks out in a sweat. "Mr. Sterling, we have a problem. Ms. Sterling snuck out because she wanted to meet her brother. She somehow ended up with a fever and passed out. "And the new Mrs. Sterling wants to know when you're coming home. She says it doesn't matter if we can't find your son. She can always give you another one…" It's bad enough that I have a sister. But I have a stepmom too? I toss my empty juice box into a trash can 30 feet away with perfect accuracy, dust off my hands, and climb straight into the back seat of the limousine. "Drive. We're going home." It's not that I'm eager to reunite with my long-lost family. It's just that I can't stand people causing trouble on my turf.

The day my son, Nathan Cardin, turns one month old, we are both kidnapped. Our kidnapper demands that I call my wife, Jennifer Surton, so that he can demand ransom money. Since the phone is placed on loudspeaker mode, everyone can hear her scoff. "Asking for money again? You sure are going all out with your act this time." I'm about to explain when I suddenly hear someone sigh and lament. [Oh dear, how did I end up with the same start even after being reborn? Daddy is completely unaware that Mommy is currently busy gathering funds, after her first love claimed that he's now burdened with substantial debt due to helping her with her company.] Just as I'm wondering who said that, a man's voice comes over the phone call. "Jen, save me!" The call is abruptly cut off. While the kidnapper dials Jennifer's number over and over again, I hear that voice speak once more. It sounds incredibly young. [Daddy, don't bother wasting your energy. In our previous life, Mommy came to rescue us with the money, which resulted in her first love getting killed by his debtors. In her terrible grief, she set us both on fire and burned us to ashes.] Dozens of tries later, Jennifer finally picks up again. "Can't you be a little more understanding? What do you think is more important—Rick's life or you buying a new car?" Gazing at Nathan nearby, I grit my teeth and answer, "Go and save Hendrick. He's more important." In my mind, I vowed, "Don't be scared, son. I'll make sure that we both live on in this life."

On my younger brother's 18th birthday, our parents book the most expensive revolving restaurant in the city to celebrate with him. But all because a waiter accidentally splashes a bit of water on the edge of his sneakers, my brother, Samuel Stone, blows up on the spot. "Do you have any idea how rare these are? They're limited-edition worldwide! Not even your life is worth as much as them!" The waiter, Rowan Lane, shakes in fright and bows his head, apologizing profusely. But Samuel just keeps going and makes a mountain out of a molehill. He even orders Rowan to get on his knees and lick his shoes clean. Our parents, who have always spoiled Samuel rotten, jump in to back him up. They yell at Rowan like he's committed some unforgivable crime. When this happens in my last life, I can't stand it. I step in and talk my family down, finally ending the farce. Unbeknownst to me, someone films the entire thing and posts it online. People on the internet call me kind and brave. By comparison, Samuel's tantrum makes him look like an entitled, vicious brat. He gets torn apart across every platform. He holds a grudge against me for it. After tricking me up onto the rooftop of a 30-story building, he shoves me off without a second thought. From that height, I hit the concrete and die on impact. When I open my eyes again, I'm back in that restaurant—right at the moment Samuel is pointing at Rowan and cursing him out. What Samuel doesn't know is that this "nobody" he's screaming at is actually the only son of the city's richest man, who went missing years ago. All the humiliation and insult Samuel dishes out that day is going to come back as one hell of a revenge.

After my family and I are dragged into a roguelike horror simulation, they favor my cousin, Julian Clark, over me. In a lobby of blood-soaked players, he always manages to stay spotless, earning their praise as someone who has "kept his humanity". He's unlike me, the brute who willingly throws himself into melee combat and hacks down monsters just to keep everyone else alive. During one dungeon run, a terrifying entity targets my younger sister, Millie Larsson. I draw my blade and move in for the kill, but Julian stops me with a sorrowful smile. "Every creature has a soul. Gabriel, if you kill it, you'll only enrage it and burden Millie with the sin of bloodshed." Millie believes all the nonsense he says and begins resenting me for interfering. Later, when a veteran player steals Julian's life-saving loot drop, I nearly die reclaiming it for him. Instead of thanking me, he takes pity on the woman robbing him and hands the item back to her. He condemns me for being too ruthless, claiming I know nothing about showing mercy to women. Then comes the advanced raid. Cornered by the final boss, I beg Julian to activate the high-tier talisman I've given him, buying me just one second to escape. He recoils from my bloodstained hand in disgust and turns to my parents instead. "Gabriel provoked the boss himself. He's too violent. I can't risk wiping the whole party just to save him." In the end, I die in the boss' jaws. Julian steps over my shattered bones and blood to clear the raid, eventually becoming the server's most celebrated player for being the Untainted Saint. But fate grants me a second chance. I awaken once more in the game's central lobby, right before everything begins. This time, I want to see how long their precious humanity lasts in a world overrun by horrors when the blood-soaked blade that always carries their party is no longer there to protect them.