Gifted Novels & Stories

“My turn. What do you think your Goddess gift will be?” “Hmm… hard to say. Pops' gift was negotiation. Dad’s is insight into motivation. Mom has fierce protectiveness. I think mine will be calming others down—keeping people level-headed.” “That's a good one. My mom’s gift is teaching. She can explain anything to anyone. Dad’s was scientific—he helped invent the descenting spray. So, maybe mine’ll be something academic. Battle strategy, maybe.” He pauses. “My turn. What do you want in a mate?”

“What am I, not who I am. I see you have worked out I do not fit into your scope of knowledge. I am what is known as a visionary. There is much you don’t know about the gifted. The city has been suppressing the gifted way before the war. Your war was the second war, not the first. You only know about the groups that were left after the first war. The less you know for now the better. Too much knowledge about the past could change your view. Changing the path, you take. You aren’t filled with anger or hatred. You are filled with kindness and a desire to make change in a safe way. That is the key to your success. You find middle g

adds another guest. “Exceptional lung capacity and breath control for her age,” Killian analyzes proudly. “Lucky timing,” I counter. “Strategic execution combined with advanced motor control.” “Accidental success combined with proud parents.” “Same thing.” “Not even slightly the same thing.” The gift opening ceremony that follows resembles a small-scale version of Christmas morning at the White House. Educational toys from tech executives, handmade books from literary figures, art supplies from museum directors, and enough stuffed animals to populate a small zoo.

I want to think they did, or else I might lose my mind again. I close my eyes and recall the counselor’s words. When he showed signs of achieving all his milestones before age, I reached out to a professional again. It turns out that my baby is a gifted child—someone who can understand things better than the other kids his age and has high emotional intelligence and intellect. I have always been proud of him. But right now, all I want for him is to be a child his age, to not process the situation. He should hope, like other kids, that his parents will come for him soon.

My breath caught. That lion fights the monsters in the walls and the despair that tries to seep in through the cracks in the ceiling." I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt the tear land on the folder. Ms. Beck quietly handed me a tissue. "I know we don't typically do this until parent-teacher conferences, but your son is gifted. Not just smart, not just articulate. Gifted.". I couldn't find words, but they stuttered in my throat. "He's… he's always been like that," I managed finally. "Even when he was small. He'd ask me questions that had me Googling at midnight."

"If it were me, I'd keep him close, too. Inventory-variant Gifted are extremely rare. Upgrading their gifts is the hardest among all Gifted." Hayley's hand paused mid-motion. "How do you upgrade gifts?"

“Maisie, she put so much thought into that gift! How heartless can you be to ignore her like that?” “I seriously misjudged you. In that case, we won’t give you any gifts either.” Left with no choice, I said I appreciated both the gift and her intentions, but I was already wearing a necklace. Zoe’s eyes reddened. “The one I'm giving you is more expensive than that. Doesn’t it deserve a place around your neck?” Just then, Miles Gray's rough voice came from downstairs. “Maisie! C-Come down!” It was my brother.

"Henry, if you're turning your nose up at my gift, then just say so. What's this crap about not wanting everyone to wait around, huh? You don't need to go to such lengths just to make me look bad!" Aunt Miranda, Jessica's mother, immediately pulled a long face and glared at me. "Stop being so fussy. As if we care whether you take it or not!" Uncle Donald, Jessica's father, also lit up a cigarette and snorted tauntingly. "What, you think you're so great now just because you got into college?" Their remarks terrified my parents, who immediately took their anger out on me. "Henry Wilson! Who taught you to be so snobbish? Jessica is being nice to you by giving you a gift! Why are you being so di

“Okay.” He did not need to worry. That day, I would give him a gift he would never forget. A body in his bathtub on his birthday would ruin every plan he had. It might even become a stain on his perfect record that he could never erase. It would be the last strike from me. That night, Daniel slept deeply. He was a light sleeper and needed aromatherapy every night. I added a small amount of sleep‑inducing essential oil to the diffuser. I did not dare add much. He was sharp, and any change would alert him.

After surviving a kidnapping and being diagnosed with severe PTSD, I became the family's top priority. Every sharp object and glass item in the house was removed. The furniture was wrapped in thick foam padding, until not a single hard edge remained. My parents canceled all business trips. News broadcasts and violent movies were banned from the house. To help me feel safe, they even forced my younger brother, who had just earned a full scholarship to a top university, to stay home and keep me company around the clock. Everything changed on the night of my brother's lavish eighteenth-birthday celebration. When fireworks erupted across the sky without warning, I hallucinated instantly and grab