Imagination Poem

At one in the morning, the neighbor upstairs suddenly knocked on my door. He said there was a leak in his apartment and asked if our place had been affected. I was just about to open the door when my vision was flooded with comments. [Open the door, and you're dead! That man outside is not your neighbor!] [Didn't the old man upstairs who lived alone go to Marcasia last week to find his new love interest? There shouldn't be anyone up there at all!] I immediately pulled away from the doorknob. At that moment, an emergency notice popped up in the residential property chat. [Unit 1307 has a burst pipe with severe leakage. Property management will inspect the building's water system.] [Is anyone home in 1207? We need to check whether your ceiling is leaking. Please open the door.] Unit 1207 was my place. The comments flooded my vision again. [What kind of property management does inspections at one in the morning? They're in on it together!] [Bea, stay hidden! Your destined man will descend from the heavens to save you!] I nodded solemnly, as if I was taking them very seriously. I turned around and grabbed my climbing rope. Amid the hysterical screaming of the comments, I leapt straight off the balcony. I'm someone who got a second life. Last time around, my entire life was ruined by listening to these brain-dead comments. This time, I'd rather die from the fall than end up as a breeding machine again.

I somehow became the "dream girl" of a cold, dangerous villain straight outta a novel. Well—technically, it was my mini burritos that did the damage. Hot, cheap, and hit like a hug. The year his whole world crashed, Rory Roth showed up scrawny and wrecked, clutching three crumpled bucks. "Can I get one mini burrito?" I stood there with a spatula in hand, staring at the kid who'd one day become some criminal mastermind genius. But right now? No threat, no swagger—just a shivering kid with wary eyes. "I'm not tryna scam you. If it's not enough, I'll wash dishes, mop floors, help with customers—whatever. Once I make up the rest, c-could you make me a mini burrito then?" That's when it hit me. This so-called villain... was just a starving, beat-down kid.

On the surface, Connor Shaw appears to be the coolheaded, celibate follower of the Fyerian faith who lives like a monk. All of Jewelton knows that about him. Behind closed doors, however, he suffers from a severe case of compulsive sexual disorder. According to the traditions of the merpeople, a mermaid like Sylvie Waverly will have to marry the first human she meets and perform the ultimate act of intimacy 999 times. Masquerading as a lovesick doormat, Sylvie does everything she can to marry Connor. However, the only one in Connor's heart is Anna Larson, his first love. Everyone assumes Sylvie will get jealous, but all she wants is to complete her mission as soon as possible and return to her own world. Once Connor has bedded her 999 times, Sylvie leaves him without a second thought. By the time Connor realizes Sylvie is the mermaid who saved him all those years ago and that she alone can cure him of his compulsive sexual disorder, it is all too late.

Nasa palengke ako ng may matandang babae na hindi ko kilala ang humawak sa kamay ko ng mahigpit. Agad ko na pinrotektahan ang baby bump ko, pero sinabi niya, “May naglagay ng swap spell sa iyo. Malapit na ilipat ang patay na bata sa katawan mo.” Sa tingin ko sinungaling siya, pero sinabi niya, “Bilisan mo at subukan pasukahin ang sarili mo. Dapat mo subukan isuka ang isdang kinain mo hanggang sa kaya mo.”

The whole world got sucked into a survival horror game. While everyone else was grinding mobs and trying not to get wiped, the system bugged out and tagged me as an NPC. My role? Takeout girl. I cruised around on my busted scooter, dropping food at boss lairs. If my rating dipped under 9.0, I'd keel over instantly. I figured I was just some unlucky idiot skating on death's edge. Then a pack of dumb players tried to jack my ride. That's when the scariest bosses in the game roared at once: "Who the hell thinks they can touch my crew?!"

My older sister, Scarlet Dawson, is an absolute saint with a savior complex. When the apocalyptic heatwave hits us, she gives out water to our neighbors, food to strangers, and even invites her boyfriend's entire family to live with us. When our supplies are finally depleted, Scarlet actually considers selling me off to a perverted old man in exchange for supplies to look after her boyfriend, Marcus Crosby. I promptly pull out my stun gun and knock her unconscious. Then, I hand her straight to the perverted old man instead. I go back to my villa, where the temperature is constantly kept at 60°F, and enjoy a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream under the air conditioning. Not only that, but my villa is stocked with enough supplies to last me for the next few decades!

"How can you say that about me, Nathan? I never had a kid!" Aaron Fuller protests. My wife, Jenny Green, stands protectively in front of him. "That's enough! You can't slander Aaron just because you're jealous of him. Just you wait, Nathan. I haven't settled the score with you for calling Aaron this afternoon and insulting him!"

The day I was supposed to win the biggest award of my career, I walked in on my boyfriend, Ethan, in bed with another woman. He sneered, calling me a face-blind, scent-deaf bore in bed. I planned to expose his ass at the award ceremony. Instead, he and his lover mowed me down with their car. Next thing I knew, I woke up with them in an S-class horror survival game. Mortality rate: over 95%. We had to survive ten days in a haunted manor to be revived. Hit 100 on your Anxiety Level, and your soul is obliterated. Chloe, Ethan's lover, sneered. "Sensory defects? You can't recognize ghosts or smell danger. In a horror game, that’s a death sentence. You might as well just die." The others heard her and scrambled to team up. Me? I walked straight into the lair of the manor's final boss. The most powerful demon in the game wanted to devour my soul. I couldn't really see him. I just thought he was a cosplayer. I lunged forward, poked his abs, and pointed at the glowing crack in his chest. "Wow, you're really committed to the role. This getup must've cost a fortune."

Our entire class gets dragged into The Tyrant's Atonement game. The only way to escape alive is to reach a 100% atonement score. The system lets us choose our roles. The class belle, Isolde Adler, picks the tyrant's first love. Her atonement score shoots straight to 99% on the first day. The class president, Asher Brooks, chooses to be a loyal chancellor. His atonement score jumps to 80%. Spectators watching the game flood the screen with comments. "This new batch is smart and way better at picking roles than the last. They might just clear the game in three days." "Even if just one person hits 100%, the whole class goes free. I'm looking forward to seeing who finishes first." "My money's on the first love. She's already at 99%." Just as everyone starts celebrating, the next morning hits us with bad news. All 20 classmates who picked their roles are dead, and Isolde suffers the cruelest fate of all.

Lately, buying succubi and incubi online had become all the rage. I could not afford one, so I picked one up from the side of the road instead. It turned out the quality of this incubus left a lot to be desired. Not only did he have a terrible temper, but he showed absolutely no interest in me. He would rather starve than "feed". Left with no other options, I snapped a photo of his incubus mark and sent it to the shop owner, asking how to handle this particular model. The shop owner completely lost it. "Oh my god, please tell me you're joking! That's not an incubus! That's a demon! The most dangerous kind!"