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Resurrected (Book #9 in the Vampire Journals)

Resurrected (Book #9 in the Vampire Journals)

16 year old Scarlet Paine finds herself changing in mysterious ways. She is becoming sensitive to light, able to read peoples’ thoughts, and is faster and stronger than she’s ever been. She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her, and tries to ignore it. But she can only dismiss it for so long.

Caitlin Paine, her mom, knows too well what’s happening to her daughter. She underwent the same transformation to vampire once, centuries ago. But now, in the present day, as a mere human, she has no memory of it. All she has is the journal she found in the attic—her mysterious vampire journal—telling of her exploits in another time and place, and of the vampire race being eradicated. But was there one exception to the rule? Could it be that Scarlet, her daughter, is the last remaining vampire on earth?

As Scarlet tries to fight who she’s becoming, she also tries to fight her intense feelings for Blake, a boy in her grade who she has a crush on. She can’t tell, though, if he’s into her, and with the big Halloween dance just days away, the pressure is on. She would do anything for Blake to ask her. But Vivian, the meanest of the popular girls, is also on Blake’s radar, and she’ll do anything to make Blake hers—and to make Scarlet’s life a living hell.

Luckily Scarlet has her own clique of friends to back her up, including her best friends Maria and Jasmin. They, too, have guy troubles—but it isn’t until Sage appears, the mysterious new boy, that her friends become obsessed. Scarlet finds herself attracted to him, too—and is surprised when it is her, of all the girls in the school, that he pays attention to. But her mind is set on Blake, at least for now, and she continues to hope he’ll ask her to the dance.

Just when it seems that Scarlet has what she wants, her body changes. Soon it may be impossible for her to be near her fellow humans. Soon, she may have to choose between her desire to live and her desire for love.
Paranormal
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Your Regret Doesn’t Bring Us Back, Don

Your Regret Doesn’t Bring Us Back, Don

I am the wife of Anthony Caster, don of the mafia family in New York. When I was nine months pregnant, he brought a woman named Evelyn Graves into the manor, claiming she’d saved his life. That was the day my nightmare began. She put something in my food. Next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain. And she had the nerve to blame it on me—said I was being reckless with what I ate. She lost her footing and fell down the stairs, but she told everyone I was the one who shoved her. Every day, she’d cry in front of Anthony about how saving him had left her wounded and unable to bear children, how seeing a pregnant woman broke her heart. But the moment she turned to me, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold smile. “As long as I’m here,” she whispered, “your babies will never be born.” Anthony was convinced I was jealous of her. He locked me away in the abandoned attic of the manor and said, “Reflect on your actions and stop bullying Evelyn.” On the first day they shut me in, the contractions began. I screamed, I begged, I banged on the door. The butler heard me and went to inform Anthony. He said, “Amelia, your due date is three days away. Stop putting on an act. Three days in a snowstorm and you came out fine. This? You can handle this.” On the second day, my water broke. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingernails digging into the cracks of the wall, blood spilling all over the floor. The butler went to Anthony again. Evelyn said, “Anthony, she’s making all that noise because she wants you to feel sorry for her and let her out. If you give in now, she’ll only grow more reckless later.” He believed her. On the third day, I stopped screaming. Anthony thought I had finally learned my lesson, unaware that I had already died from the difficult labor. When he finally opened that door, all he would find was my rotting, putrid body.
Short Story · Mafia
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Mom, Trust Me One Last Time

Mom, Trust Me One Last Time

When I was born, I was already a certified liar. That's a fact that everyone seems to agree with. The truth is, my mom, who's a scientist, has implanted advanced chips into me and my fraternal twin brother, Ryan Hartwell, when we were still babies. By right, as long as we lie or make mistakes, our mom will receive the devil signal from the chips. Then, she'll administer electrical shocks as a form of punishment. Ryan's chip often transmits the smiley signal. Even if he destroys our mom's research equipment and pins the blame on me, his chip still has the smiley branded on it. Meanwhile, when I reach home ten minutes later than usual because I had to help out a classmate, my chip transmits the scary devil signal. The next thing I know, I've already crippled to the floor from the intense pain caused by the electrical shock. At first, I'll still explain to Mom what happened. But she often exclaims, "Don't think you can pull off clever little tricks just like that gambling father of yours! The chip is ten thousands times smarter than you! The punishments will only be branded into your bones if the pain is searing enough! What I'm doing is saving your life!" After suffering from the pain countless times, I get brainwashed into thinking that I really am a liar and a troublemaker by nature. On the night of Christmas Eve, Mom comes to the attic to tell Ryan to join the family at the table for the Christmas dinner. That's when my asthma suddenly acts up, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. "I… I can't breathe… Save me, Mom…" But Mom just coldly gazes at the devil signal that she has just received on her phone. Then, she dials the shock value to the maximum. "You don't have asthma at all! Ugh, you're kicking up another fuss just to attract attention! Seriously, you never change your ways!" After that, she takes Ryan's hand and leads him out of the attic. Soon, she slams the door heavily behind her. As I suffer from asphyxiation while on my deathbed, I can't help but think that Mom is right. After all, my chip has just transmitted the devil signal. Maybe the asthma attack really is just a figment of my imagination. I've always been a bad girl who loves lying to others, after all. When Mom finds out that this is the last time I've ever lied to her, she must be really happy, right?
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