Imagination Poem

On the day I was diagnosed with uremia, my husband asked me to donate a kidney to his one true love. I turned him down, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t expect him, my own husband, who was a doctor, to drag me to trial. The charge? Ingratitude. If found guilty, I would be executed on the spot, my kidney forcibly harvested, my soul condemned for eternity. But if the charges were dismissed, my husband would face immediate execution. His love would fall into ruin, plagued by illness and poverty. Everyone pressured me to confess. After all, when I nearly died in a car crash years ago, it was her blood transfusion that had pulled me back from the brink of death. But what they didn’t know was… I had been reborn. In my past life, I died never knowing my husband and his lover had orchestrated the car crash that nearly killed me. Now that I had returned, I would tear off their masks and expose their malice for all to see.

After entering a horror game, I, Anastasia Moreau, begin dating the big boss. At our first meeting, I wrap my arms around his sleek, serpentine body and squeeze him into a corner of the coffin. "Move over, move over." In the next instant, a strikingly handsome young man with white hair and golden eyes appears beneath me. The tips of his ears flush red as he glares at me. "You… You're lying on my hair!" he grits out.

I was the sole front desk clerk at a haunted hotel. Welcoming players, checking in on the bosses’ quarters, and slacking off a bit were all part of the job. At least, that was what I thought. It turned out my days were far from ordinary. A blood-drenched little girl in a tattered red dress kept ringing the service bell. Her eerie voice echoed, “Miss, why didn’t you come play with me?” A creepy black cat with glowing eyes wouldn’t stop meowing and rubbing against my legs. And then there was the old woman with claws like knives, cheerfully knitting me a sweater… out of players’ skin. One day, I took a day off to care for my sick mother. That was my biggest mistake. The entire game instance erupted in chaos. Bosses interrogated players, demanding to know where their precious front desk clerk had gone. “Did she abandon us? Is she never coming back?” I ran. They chased. But no matter how fast I fled, their grip on me only tightened. In the end, escape wasn’t an option.

Les Hommes-Bêtes étaient réputés pour leur force guerrière. Pour consolider le pouvoir de notre clan, mon père nous a offertes, ma demi-sœur Anaïs Moineau et moi, en mariage aux deux de ces peuples. Dans ma vie antérieure, Anaïs avait épousé le roi des Dragons, dont la richesse rivalisait avec celle de toutes les autres races réunies, tandis que j'avais été contrainte de m'unir au clan démuni des Lions. Le roi des Dragons, Gaylord Dieulafoy, homme froid et impassible, ne vivait que pour ses ambitions, négligeant complètement Anaïs. Rongée par la solitude, elle avait séduit le jeune maître volage des Renards. Leur adultère avait été découvert, et Gaylord l'avait répudiée. Notre famille en était couverte de honte. Sous la pression, notre père, pourtant si indulgent envers elle, avait dû la chasser. En revanche, Brice Gardet, le roi des Lions, était dévoué et passionné. Notre union était heureuse et, en moins d'un an, j'avais mis au monde des enfants, dotés de pouvoirs divins. Grâce à ça, Brice était devenu le souverain de tous les clans des Hommes-Bêtes, et moi, sa reine. Mais la jalousie d'Anaïs avait tout détruit. Le jour de la fête pour le premier anniversaire de mon enfant, elle l'avait étranglé, puis avait mis le feu à ma demeure pour m'y brûler vive. Quand j'ai rouvert les yeux, nous étions de retour au jour des alliances. Cette fois, Anaïs a exigé d'épouser Brice, me « cédant » ainsi Gaylord. Je l'ai accepté. Dotée d'une dot dix fois moindre que la sienne, j'ai épousé Gaylord. Par la suite ? Anaïs a épuisé toute sa dot à soutenir le Lion, et son incapacité à procréer l'a contrainte à s'accoupler avec d'autres Hommes-Bêtes. Moi qui n'aspirais qu'à un enfant et une existence paisible après la tragédie de ma vie précédente, j'ai dû faire face à une autre réalité : pourquoi mon mari, réputé froid et abstinent, me réclamait-il sans cesse depuis notre nuit nuptiale ? Et pourquoi personne ne m'avait avertie que les Dragons possédaient deux pénis… tous deux épineux ?

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" burst onto the scene like a traveling circus promising wonders. The idea was plain enough: "If you reckon someone's life is a mess, and you think you can do better, go ahead and prove it. There's a reward waiting if you do." Before I knew it, my whole family had me pegged for the fool in the middle of the show. There was my mother, dreaming of turning me into some grand goose; my husband, who'd spent years dodging his rightful share of the family load; and my son, mortified by the very sight of me. They shoved me onto the "judgment seat" like I was the villain of the tale. Every last one of them swore up and down that, given my place, they'd manage my life better than I ever could. The stakes? Well, if they pulled it off, my consciousness would be erased—gone, wiped out like a mistake on a chalkboard—and turned into their personal servant. On top of that, they'd waltz off with a cool million dollars. But if they couldn't? Then I'd be the one raking in three million dollars. Now that's a gamble for the ages, isn't it?

Grandpa died, and we immediately went for each other's throats over the inheritance. Then a blizzard hit, trapping us all in the family estate. An app appeared on our phones: [THE LAST ZOMBIE: FINAL RECKONING]. We had to pick a hiding spot. The last one standing—the last human standing—would inherit everything. I chose the dark, silent recording studio in the basement. Away from them all. When it was time to pick special powers, my family chose powerful weapons or pocket dimensions full of supplies. I chose Bio-Stasis. It slowed my cells to a crawl, and my body along with them. My stepbrother's fiancée, Chloe, called me an idiot. "Hiding from your family and picking a useless power? You're on a suicide mission." They threw a zombie-slaying party upstairs, already celebrating an inheritance they hadn't even won. Until, one by one, they turned. And started tearing each other apart. What they didn't know... was that I'd rigged the game from the start. The only way to win was to stay completely silent.

When I pester Sean Sackman, my childhood sweetheart, for a second time, he rejects me. "I don't have time for you now," he says. "It's Valentine's Day today, and the campus belle just agreed to go on a date with me this afternoon." Just as I am about to pleasure myself, his housemate, Chad Huxley, comes back. Several comments suddenly appear in front of me. "This is hilarious. The second male lead is literally burning with desire when he sees the female lead in her nightrobe. But he still has to hold it in and pretend to be unfazed. He's like a grumpy little puppy!" "I think the female lead should turn to the second male lead instead. Every time she goes to find her childhood sweetheart, the second male lead ends up taking a cold shower. Poor guy." "The second male lead might have an addiction, but he always keeps his hands to himself. Girl, a feast is literally right in front of you. Stop getting hung up on that idiot!" My eyes light up as I stare at Chad. "Can you help me with something?"

I transmigrated into a trashy, tragic romance as the vicious side character. By the time I arrived, the story had already reached its ending. I had caused the female lead to lose her SAT opportunity, and my two older brothers forced me to my knees. My eldest brother, Lucas Sherman, beat me mercilessly with a stick. He hissed, "Slap yourself 1000 times before you can get up." My older brother, Charlie Sherman, threw a bottle of pesticide at me. He spat, "Someone as vicious as you should just die." I let out a cold laugh and picked up the pesticide bottle, downing it in one gulp. Lucas and Charlie turned pale with shock. "Are you insane? You actually drank it!"

I am a miserable nurse. During the Halloween season, there was a three day break but I was not given any days off. Upset, I decided to join a game featuring a haunted hospital. There was an old man wrapped in IV tubes chasing after a player. I sprinted forward and shoved him into the chair. After effortlessly jabbing the IV line back in him, I told him off, "It’s just an IV drip, not an action movie. Sit. Down. Move again and I’ll strap you to the chair!" The old man did a double take before blinking in a flustered manner. "Sorry for causing you trouble, ma'am." At night, children ghosts began to run and laugh wildly in the corridor. I grabbed one in each hand and hauled them up. "If you’re not going to stay put in the ward, I’ll give you an injection!" Why did I still have to work in a game? I was so tired. The other players cried out, "Clem! That's a ghost. Are you not scared?" I sneered, "Sorry, but burnt-out workers hold more grudges than ghosts ever could."

On Valentine's Day, I suggest going to a restaurant to celebrate, but my boyfriend, Michael Nelson, refuses. He says impatiently, "Why should we celebrate some lousy holiday? I don't want to waste good money on it." He turns around and happily chats away on his phone, completely absorbed in the conversation. Then, I hear the system's notification going off in my head. "Congratulations. You have received 2,860 dollars." This means that Michael just transferred 1,430 dollars to his side chick. He doesn't know it yet, but I have a system. It's called the Infidelity Cashback System. Every time he spends money on his other woman, I get double the cashback in my bank account.