Chat Horror Mga Nobela at Kwento

Using an alternative account, I secretly join a cycling group chat that my husband, Liam Johnson, is in. One day, an announcement is made in the group chat. "We'll be organizing a weekend mountain biking activity with an overnight stay, with two people sharing a room. To add some excitement, we'll be drawing lots for room assignments." I can't really understand it. Curious, I ask, "What if a man and a woman end up drawing the same room?"

This an autobiography of a man's childhood day, the horror and the dread that he went through, it also comprises of other happenings that made up his childhood day: both sad and happy moments.

On the tenth day of my postpartum recovery, my husband, Deputy Commander Harvey Wyatt, uploads a photo of me breastfeeding my newborn in a disheveled state to the department's group chat. Obviously, that photo was taken without my knowledge. "See? After having a kid, she's as loose as a sack. It makes me sick just looking at her. I much prefer my side piece, who's nice and tight." A few female colleagues send sweating emojis to the group. The majority of the chat, however, consists of the male colleagues' perverse silence. While I continue to burp my baby with one hand, my tears land on the screen. In order to give birth to this baby, my pelvic bone was sawn in half, which causes me so much pain that I can't even walk properly. But all I get in return is my own husband body-shaming me in front of hundreds of people. I don't bother arguing with Harvey at all. Half an hour later, I drag my broken body all the way to the commander's office with a divorce agreement as well as the chat history over the past ten days, which has been printed out, in my hands.

Horror stories originate from somewhere. Whether from eyewitness accounts or from survivors' tales, they come from somewhere. And while all of us grow up with the folklore, how many of us genuinely believe that werewolves and vampires prowl through the night, taking what they want. I will admit I didn't believe the tales. I thought werewolves and vampires were nothing more than make-believe. Scary stories meant to keep kids in line. That is until a monster ripped me from my warm and sold me to the highest bidder. Where nightmares and horror stories become true is where my story begins. Can I ever be free again, or will the beasts rule my body and soul forever. TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!

Jarek yanked me into his arms squeezing me tightly. "That is not how that works here." His hand had moved to my skin sending those same tingles through my body. I tried to shove back but he held me tighter. "Mine!" He growled sticking his nose in my throat. "My mate. No one will hurt you again." "She is not yours!" Ajax growled shoving us apart with me flying behind him. "See? Like a possession." Having been homeless since your were 14 means you can handle pretty much anything and everyone. That was until two giants show up trying to kill you on someone's orders while a and Demon wolf shifter show up telling you that you have family left alive and you are magical just like them. That family is waiting for you at a school for the supernatural because that is what you are. Ready to be done with it all but your bestfriend who is a big mutt is injured so you go with them. You want her fixed and a chat with this so called grandpa. It might end up being a violent chat but no one has ever called you a lady. Doesn't help that you felt mate tingles with one of the guys and the rest of their friends are hot as sin. This is not where life was supposed to take you but you are down for the ride.

A forced excursion to the bottom of the world could only end in one way. Disaster For Fantasy Oliovenko, a young and beautiful State Department Agent, life was swiftly becoming one emerging horror stacked upon another and yet to her own horror the last of her spiritual tests in an uncertain future was becoming more of a possessing passion than it was a pain to bare. He'd come from the forest to save her. He meant to mate her – own her – utterly possess her. Sometimes the hardest part of giving into the path that God has for one makes no sense at the moment of its emerging inception. For Fantasy the struggle to believe is as hard as her inability to surrender and yet life while it remains gives ample time for both. Time is ticking though, and the rapacious bite of monsters that take no prisoners are ever eager to take advantage of a fool's demise.

To celebrate Halloween, our company booked an immersive “rural horror” escape room. My boss said whoever could make it to the end without screaming would get a ten-thousand-dollar reward. As a seasoned horror movie fan, I was instantly tempted. The core character in the escape room was a scarecrow wearing an oversized pumpkin head. I admired how well the props were made, but the chainsaw noise was too loud, so I slipped into a hidden compartment, put on my headphones, and scrolled through reels. The next day, I woke up to a strong metallic stench mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of rotting pumpkin. The police told me our boss had canceled the booking at the last minute, and the actor originally assigned to play the character had gotten food poisoning. That pumpkin-headed figure wasn’t one of their staff.

I had been the company's top sales performer—the kind who brought in tens of millions in revenue. But just because I hadn't praised my boss' girlfriend in the company group chat, she fired me without hesitation and replaced me with her cousin. Not long after, the company's sales dropped straight to zero. That was when she had come to my door on her own to apologize. "Please, come back," she had begged. "My boyfriend said he'll break up with me if you don't return."

My husband was out cold. Middle of the night, his phone lit up on the nightstand—chat app blowing up. I leaned over and grabbed it, quiet as a breath. Messages from someone named 'Viv.' Her last one? [Goodnight, Matt.] I had my fingerprint saved, but I'd never used it. Six years of trust. Six years of believing he was loyal—maybe too awkward to cheat. But something felt off. So I tapped in. And just like that, I opened Pandora's box. My heart? Tanked.

At six months pregnant, I joined a moms’ group chat to learn parenting tips from other mothers, and one of them couldn’t resist showing off. "I’m so jealous of you guys, getting to cuddle your babies all day. Not like me—I'm handing mine off to a free nanny right after giving birth!" 'Free nanny? Since when are nannies free?' I tapped on her profile picture—and the sight of that hand draped over her shoulder made cold sweat run down my back.