Plot Twists Superpowers Short Stories & Novels

I heard a corpse speak to me in the police department's autopsy room on my first day of internship. It all began when my supervising pathologist flipped through the autopsy report and remarked flatly, "Classic suicide. Close the case." The captain of the homicide unit nodded without a word. Beyond the doors, the victim's mother had fallen to her knees as she sobbed in despair, nearly fainting from grief. I was the only one who heard the woman's raspy voice saying in protest, "I didn't kill myself." The hemostatic forceps slipped from my hand and clattered into the metal tray. Everyone turned to look at me. My supervising pathologist frowned at me in displeasure. "Summer, I know you're an intern, but you can't even keep your composure?" I stared at the corpse's pale, bluish face. The next second, I heard her speak once more, "The killer is in this autopsy room." The air in my lungs froze. Then, my eyes slowly settled on my supervising pathologist's bloodstained hands.

Ten minutes before the ceremony, my phone lit up with a photograph that made my stomach turn. A woman with sunken eyes, thin down to the bone, crawling across a floor on her hands and knees like a dog. My fiance, Harrison Blake, stood over her, looking down at her with disgust. I was about to block the number and write it off as a prank when two more messages came through. "Run. Right now. Whatever you do, don't marry Harrison Blake." "That woman on the floor is you, ten years from now."

My childhood friend and I were both prodigies who grew up in an orphanage. I was born with a gift for divination, able to hear the Moon Goddess's oracles and perceive the threads of fate. She was born with an uncanny gift for attracting wealth, her fortune so extraordinary that even a scratch-off ticket could empty the jackpot pool. When we were eighteen, we found a wolf at the edge of our territory, his body covered in wounds. He was Alaric, one of the top contenders for the Lycan throne, brought low by a betrayal on the night that mattered most. I read the omens. My childhood friend pulled together the funds. Together we helped Alaric fight his way back and reclaim everything that was rightfully his. The moment Alaric became Lycan King, the first thing he did was perform the Bonding ceremony with my childhood friend. They were bonded as mates, and before long had brought two remarkably gifted pups into the world. As for me, I had grown weary of life among others and retreated alone into the depths of the forest. Ten years passed. The Crescent Moon Pack was finally welcoming another pup. He was overjoyed. He hired a private helicopter in the dead of night and flew into the forest, imploring me to appear and bless the newborn. Naturally I agreed, and I made my way to the top-floor VIP suite, where I pressed a blessing from the Moon Goddess onto the little princess's brow using moonflower nectar. On my way out, a sudden impulse took hold of me, and I tossed the star dice to read my childhood friend's fortune. The dice hit the floor and shattered, every last one of them, radiating the unmistakable scent of death. Ice flooded my chest. My gaze turned cold in an instant. If my childhood friend had already died, then who was this woman reclining against the headboard of the hospital bed, looking at me with such gentleness?

When my online boyfriend insisted on receiving a picture of me, the class belle, Callista Xavery, snatched my phone from my hand. She said, “You’re a real wrecking ball. He’ll run for the hills the second he sees you. Just send a photo of me instead. That way you won’t scare him off.” My other classmates also mocked me, saying, “You’re out here dripping grease and still trying to online date? That’s straight-up catfishing.” I pinched the thickness around my fat and hesitated about whether I should really send a photo of Callista or not. Just then, a barrage of floating words flashed before my eyes. [That fat girl’s online boyfriend is a top-tier Claremont trust-fund heir who loves flexing by throwing cash around.] [That pretty heroine’s already aware of that. That’s why she’s trying to make that fat girl send a photo of her.] [That way, she can smoothly take the fat girl’s place at the meetup, get spoiled rotten by the rich boy from then on, and start cashing six-figure transfers on the regular.] I was stunned for a moment before quickly snatching my phone back. I then dug out a photo of myself from three years ago and said, “No need. After all, once I lose this weight, I’ll be much prettier than you.”

My husband always had a low sex drive, so we hadn’t slept together once in our three years of marriage. But tonight, after he rejected me yet again, rows of comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: [I’m dying. This supporting female character actually thinks the male lead has no interest in sex when he simply doesn’t want to touch her.] [Isn’t this great? He’s saving himself for the female lead. Once he meets her next month, he’ll lock her up and force her to love him!] [After kicking the supporting female character out, the male lead will bring the female lead home. She won’t be allowed to leave for seven whole days!] I stared at the man sleeping with his back to me and laughed despite myself. Then I immediately ordered a bundle of nylon rope for delivery. “So, you like playing rough, huh? Then let’s play.”

Our SAT results came back, and our parents booked a private room at a Michelin-starred steakhouse to celebrate. Over dinner, they began discussing how we should apply to the same university so we could keep looking out for each other. I looked across the table at Derek and asked politely, “Derek, which university are you planning to apply to?” The moment the words left my mouth, comments suddenly flashed across my vision. [Here she goes again. Is this desperate side character going to apply to the same university as the male lead?] [I feel so bad for him. Just to keep the close ties between the families, he has to be okay with her clinging to him for three whole years!] [Don’t worry. He’s promised the prom queen, Eliza, to go to Columbo University together. He's definitely going to name a school thousands of miles away just to brush her off. I can’t wait to see her breakdown!] Derek stared at me, his brow furrowed as he sneered. “Sofia, what business is it of yours where I go? I’m applying to Southwest University, all the way to the South. Could you please stop following me around?” I met his gaze and nodded calmly. Then, I turned my attention toward the quiet young man standing near the entrance of the private room, holding the heavy coats and car keys for Derek’s family. He was the driver’s son. “Julian, which university are you going to?” I asked. “I’d like to go to the same one as you.” The sneer on Derek's face froze, and both of our parents stared in utter disbelief. None of them had any idea that the humble, quiet boy wearing a cheap hearing aid, whom Derek mocked as “the deaf boy” day in and day out, was actually the long-lost son of New City’s wealthiest tycoon, missing for eighteen whole years. And all those years I spent shamelessly dropping by the family's estate had nothing to do with clinging to Derek. I had only done it so that I could catch a few extra glimpses of Julian.

I was Windsor’s most untouchable heiress. The chairman of the university board was my grandfather. The student council president was my fiancé. The basketball team captain and the top student in our major were my childhood friends. Everyone said that if I wanted something at Windsor, I could have it. After taking a year off from college because of illness, I returned to campus. The moment I stepped through the gates, lines of comments suddenly appeared in front of me. [The spoiled heiress is back! She still doesn't know that all three male leads have fallen for the new transfer student.] [Jessica may be poor, but she's stubborn and kind. Watching her refuse financial help and insist on working part-time is heartbreaking.] [Natalie bullies Jessica because of her family's wealth. In the end, the male leads will all hate her. Even her fiancé will break off their engagement in front of everyone.] [I love watching spoiled rich girls lose everything!] When the three young men who once had eyes only for me insulted me at the opening ceremony just to defend a poor student, I simply smiled. Then I decided to stay away from them from that day forward. After all, a true heiress never needs to lose her mind over a man just to prove her worth.

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”

My mom stole my dad's name and his status as the top-ranked student in the state, then gave them to her childhood sweetheart. From then on, the two thieves soared to the top. One was admitted to Ashford University and went on to become a computer science professor at one of the country's top universities. The other attended Westbridge University and became a nationally recognized expert in education. … Meanwhile, my dad was left without a legal identity, spending his entire life scraping by through odd jobs and backbreaking labor. Years later, I inherited his talent and founded a leading AI technology company, making a name for myself in the industry. Potential partners were constantly coming to me with offers. One company, in particular, approached me several times seeking a partnership. The contract they offered was tempting, with generous terms and impeccable credentials. I casually flipped through their background information. But when I reached the page introducing the founder, my hand stopped. After a long silence, I finally said slowly, “Forget it. I won’t work with you.”

It was the summer holidays. I was going to Shinborder to see my wife, then comments started popping right in front of me. "Five minutes later, your wife's going to tell you to not give up your seat for anyone." "A pregnant woman's going to ask for your seat. You refuse, as per your wife's request. That pregnant woman ends up dying a sudden death from standing too long. Her baby dies too." "Your wife's male bestie is this cabin's attendant. He'll testify that you caused the woman's death by refusing to give up your seat." "The Internet will hunt you down. Your wife will stand against you. In the end, the pregnant woman's mother will stab you eighteen times, and you die." I was stunned. Maybe this was a hallucination from teaching the SAT students for too long. Then, the moment I sat down, I got a text from my wife. "It's hard to get tickets this time of the year, Michael. It took me forever to get a first-class seat. Enjoy it. Don't give it to anyone." My hand shook. I was reminded of the last line of the comment. "Your wife and male bestie set this up. They bought out the pregnant woman so you'll be killed, all so they can get your mountain of inheritance and insurance payout." I looked at the nearby pregnant woman and went to the second-class cabin right away.

Mom's words hold immense weight, but she only speaks one sentence each month. When a bankrupt businessman begs for her blessing, his life turns around the next day. When a childless tycoon begs her to bless him with a child, his wife is pregnant before a month has passed. But all my life, she has never spoken a complete sentence to me. When it was time to choose which university to apply to, Mom merely shook her head. "If you apply…" Her unfinished sentence kept me awake all night. I took her meaning the wrong way, and in the end, I lost the university I had dreamed about getting into for ten years. Then, my younger sister, who had scored less than me, somehow snagged a spot there. Yet, she only smiled shyly and said, "I just got lucky." After graduation, a prestigious foreign company came knocking. However, Mom simply gave a cold warning. "Maybe it's a trap…" So, I took her advice and joined a company that has me working overtime day after day. Yet, my younger sister joined that foreign company, and she ended up with a high salary and weekends off. Three days before my wedding, Mom looks at my fiance. As always, she only says, "The happiness you have now is only temporary…" I toss and turn, unable to sleep. But as I pass my younger sister's room, I hear Mom's gentle voice. "First, I pray that Zara and Evan grow old together, surrounded by children and grandchildren. Second, I hope they live happily without any misfortune…" She talks all night. I listen from the other side of the door the entire time. It's only when my tears run dry that I finally understand. It isn't that Mom can't speak. She simply doesn't want to talk to me. Since her words are never meant for me, she has no reason to involve herself in the rest of my life.