Bittersweet Panic Novels & Stories

Grace halted in her tracks, a jolt of panic spiraling through her. She was not afraid of her boss, at least not in the physical sense. She knew he would never lay a hand on her or fly into a manic rage. But she was afraid of his ability to sweet-talk her. The old man surely knew how to guilt-talk her. He was so good at it. All he had to do was call her the best secretary on earth and flash that adorable grandfather sort of smile, and she was a goner.

“You. Are. Safe.” “I’m never safe. First Rowan and now Ricky.” My breathing became heavy as I remembered. “She is going into a panic attack.” Tatum said instantly. “Put her next to Piercy so she can at least feel the sparks.” “His hands…. tongue…” I was aware of my body shaking violently as the voices faded into the background. My breathing became labored and black spots threatened to take over. Even though I could feel the sparks on my legs, they didn’t do anything.

My calm responses seemed to unsettle him, but before he could say anything more, Beverly called out from across the room. “Charles, I’m cold. Come hug me!” He smiled and walked over. “Of course, my little princess.” He took off his jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and held her close, singing her a lullaby as if she were a child. I returned home alone, packed my belongings, and prepared to leave everything behind. After packing, I opened my phone and saw Beverly’s new Instagram post. [The one who loves you will never let you get hurt.] That night, I had the best sleep I’d had in years.

An enormous man named Nate Bitters: rotund, flamboyant, versed in several world languages as head of the library’s Collections Department, and sole witness to the hit-and-run that took his wife’s life. Mr. Nate Bitters, an odd duck he was, or so they liked to whisper around town. Odder yet since his disappearance. One minute he’s giving a quick, jittery account of what he saw to the authorities, and the following day—abracadabra—he’s gone. Smoke in the wind. No messages, no traces, nothing. Gone, like an obese Harry Houdini. What in the hell?

I’ve been here before… I could hear people talking behind me, I want to open my eyes but it feels so heavy. I am listening carefully but no words from them I could understand. I am trying hard to move, but why I can’t feel any nerve in me. Finally! I could recognize a clear voice. “Mr. Carter, can you hear me?” that is my assistant, Andrea. I try to open my eyes and though I am successful, I can’t see anything. There is a bright light flashing right before my eyes, the doctor (if I’m not mistaken) is speaking to me.

I took my cellphone out of my bag because I hadn't opened it since this morning. I received many notifications, friend requests and also some messages. I looked at first my notifications but it's just a comments and just reacts. Next is the friend request, there's many friend request but I don't want to accept because I'm lazy. Finally next is the messages. I was surprised by what I saw. My heartbeat suddenly quicked because of what I saw. His name appeared on my messenger and I didn't expect this to happen. I suddenly felt a thrill even though I had not yet read his message to me. Zack Erl

“Beth! What the hell?” A shrill kind of panic filled his chest. He crossed the floor as quickly as he could in the darkness. He slapped at the wall, searching for the light switch. Rationally he knew it was silly to fear the dark. It couldn’t hurt him, right? But his heart was throbbing triple time as he groped for the switch, his panic escalating with the irrational belief he was dissolving into the dark, and soon there’d be nothing left.

My hands flew up, my fingernails digging desperately into the mesh neck of my high-waisted swimsuit as I struggled to draw in a single bit of oxygen. I stumbled backward, my cold, bare feet slipping slightly against the wet concrete of the pool deck. The psychological trauma was too much for my system to carry. The hidden monster inside my chest…the terminal Silver Decay…roared to life with a lethal, agonizing momentum in response to the panic. My heart began to hammer brutally, unevenly against my ribs, a rhythmic, terrifying rattling vibrating behind my collarbone. I needed my pills. I needed the medication from my vanity case right now, or my lungs were going to completely collapse right