Countdown Novels & Stories

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I took out my phone and looked at the countdown app on the screen. Five days left.

"She said we were destined to have no children, so she used her lifespan to trade for Brandon... The countdown was the countdown to her death, not Brandon's..." "Destined to have no children? But... but we had Heidi!" Mom covered her mouth in disbelief. I nodded too. Yeah, that's ridiculous. The countdown started as soon as I was born. How could they get it wrong? Dad paused when he heard this. He said doubtfully, "Maybe Mom was delirious from her illness?" Then, his eyes reddened again, "But, Brandon's..." "Impossible, we couldn't have made a mistake! I'm going back to get a clear answer from her

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A timeline. I could work with timelines.

Please think this damn cake is empty and just leave it back in the back room so I can just run away far from here. “Maybe our surprise didn’t hear us. Guys, let’s all count together—louder this time!” the countdown guy said, and I kept holding my breath, silently praying I could get out of here soon. “Let’s do this, now all together!” he called out for the males in the room and they all started to count louder this time. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1!!!” There was a moment of anticipation, and I heard another set of cheers go out.

The second was just words it read. Rest in peace Christine Jocelyn Martin (beloved best friend) And Sean Matthew Sanders (irreplaceable father) She put it on the computer and looked at them. "Oh. Yeah, you can. It's no problem at all. Do you have your backtrack?" I nodded and handed it to her. "Okay, thank you. You will be fourth, so please make sure you are ready to go on time." I smiled and walked back to my lonely spot. There was a note on my guitar case that said:

Only because our son begged to go to the amusement park, my wife, Nyla Frost, a wealthy heiress, ended up in a car accident on the way there, leaving her permanently paralyzed from the waist down. To punish us, she slashed our daily allowance to a mere ten cents. For the past three years, my son and I had no choice but to survive by scavenging through trash every day, even fighting the dogs for scraps. One day, my son was so hungry that he lost all reason. He ate a few crumbs of a cookie that our family doctor had accidentally dropped on the floor. My wife flew into a rage, accusing him of having filthy, thieving hands. As punishment, she made him stand outside in the pouring rain for th

I rebuilt the core. Countdown hit zero. I typed the last line. Black screen. The whole studio went dead quiet. Ten seconds. The main screen lit up. The judge's voice cut through—sharp, excited. "The winner is Clara Clermont!"

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