Horror Story

My boyfriend, Victor Pearson, was ranked number one in the world in horror games. Meanwhile, I was secretly working part-time as a monster NPC inside one of those dungeons. Every dungeon he cleared was SSS rank, whereas the one I worked in was the beginner level. We were never supposed to run into each other… until he nearly wiped out all the monsters in an SSS dungeon. The system pulled me in at the last second as emergency backup. When I tried to scare players with my awful acting, the live chat tore me apart. [Hahaha, since when did the monsters in this dungeon get so cowardly? She’s supposed to scare us, but we actually scared her instead.] [This is next-level dumb. Getting lost in a dungeon is embarrassing. Is this monster here for comic relief?] [Poor thing. She'd better hide. Anyone else might let her go, but if she runs into Big V, she's dead before she knows it.] [Come on. Big V only hunts the nastiest bosses. He wouldn’t even bother with trash like that. She would probably scare herself to death first.] I did everything I could to avoid Victor, to keep him from realizing I was the monster working there. But somehow, I stumbled right into him anyway. The chat exploded, waiting for my instant death. After all, he was a legend on the leaderboards, a god among players. But instead of killing me, he bent down and gently pinched my cheek. "Hey, babe. How many players do you wanna take out? I'll help you." The people in the chat lost their minds. [What the hell?!]

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

My mother-in-law lives alone. One day, her house suddenly catches on fire. It's a life-threatening situation. I call my firefighter husband several times before he answers impatiently. "I don't care why you're calling—can't it wait? I'm fixing Sophie's pipes!" I tell him about his mother being trapped in a fire, but he merely sneers. "How dare you curse my mother just to make me go home? You're insane!" He hangs up without another word. I'm left helpless. All I can do is wait for his colleagues to arrive, but they only come half an hour later. Their expressions shift to horror when they see the blazing fire. "Didn't Captain Scott say his wife was lying?" My mother-in-law dies due to the delay. My husband even misses the funeral because of his first love. I give up on him and ask for a divorce. However, he rips the divorce agreement to shreds and shatters the urn that contains his mother's ashes. "Drop the act—I would definitely go through with the divorce if not for my mother!" I laugh. He doesn't even know his mother is already dead.

"Falling for her soul" is a Paranormal Romance Fantasy that features 2 characters. A human guy by the name of Dustin and a witch by the name of Emma. "Falling for her soul" tells the tale of an unusual love story with ups and downs, drama, horror, and unconditional emotion for friendship and family. Dustin falls in love with Emma, but one day she leaves, never to be found. Whether or not does destiny bring them both together, and unravel the dark secrets, is yet to be found out.

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

ความถูกต้องกับความรักมักสวนทางกันเสมอ... ในเมื่อเลือกใครไม่ได้ ก็รักมันไปทั้งสองคนนั่นแหละ!

“ ถ้าเลือกเกิดได้ ก็อยากเกิดมาเหมาะสมกับเธอมากกว่านี้ ในฐานะที่ไม่ใช่พี่ชาย“ หนุ่มหล่อโสดมาดดี แววตามีแต่ความอบอุ่น ผู้ชายที่สุภาพและพูดเพราะคนนี้ เขาคือคนที่เธอเรียกว่าพี่ชายมาตลอดชีวิต “พี่ไทจะไปไหนคะ? ไม่นอนที่บ้านเหรอคะ?” “คืนนี้พี่มีนัดวันเกิดเพื่อนครับ ว่าจะนอนที่คอนโด” “แล้วใครจะไปส่งน้องไปเรียนละคะถ้าพี่ไทไม่อยู่” “พี่บอกคุณพ่อไว้แล้วครับ พรุ่งนี้คุณพ่อจะไปส่งหนูครับ” “ทำไมพี่ไทไปเที่ยวดึกๆได้ ทำไมหนูไปไม่ได้คะ ไม่ยุติธรรมเลยอ่ะ” “หนูยังเด็กนะโมลิน” “โตแล้วค่ะ โตจนมีแฟนได้แล้วค่ะ อุ๊บ!” “โมลิน ไหนพูดอีกทีซิว่ามีแฟน?” “อุ้ย! พี่ไทน่ากลัว ไปหาคุณแม่ดีกว่า” “เฮ้อ”

“ธันเดอร์” มาเฟียหนุ่มผู้ที่ฟาดผู้หญิงทุกคนที่ผ่านเข้ามาในชีวิต มีวุฒิภาวะความเป็นผู้ใหญ่สูงพอตัว ผู้ชายพูดตรง ทำจริง เห็นผู้หญิงเป็นที่ระบายอารมณ์ จนกระทั่งมาตกม้าตายให้กับสาวแสบลูกมาเฟียเช่นกัน “บลิ๊ง” ลูกสาวคนโตของบรีสกับเฌอ(จากเรื่องรักพี่ชาย) หญิงสาวผู้ที่ไม่เคยกลัวใครนอกจากพ่อเท่านั้นเป็นลูกสาวคนโตที่โหดจนน้องๆแค่ได้ยินขื่อยังสยอง ความแสบไม่ต้องนับ เพราะเธอคนนี้มีมากกว่าที่คาดคิด จนกระทั่งมาเจอมาเฟียหนุ่ม เรื่องยุ่งๆก็เกิดขึ้นมากมายหลังจากนั้น “ใครเหนือใคร รอชม!!!”