Literary Stray Dogs

In the Philippines, there is a well-known and commonly practiced superstitious belief called pagpag, loosely translated as "to dust-off." One should never go home directly after visiting a wake or a funeral, because the ghost of the deceased might latch on and cause hauntings or attract evil. Now, where can Filipinos pagpag and lead spirits astray? It could be anywhere: a restaurant, a mall, that house down the street where your toxic ex lives… but usually, people opt for 7-Eleven convenience stores and nobody knows why. Follow the story of Akira Basilio: a part-time staff who mans the Luntian Street 7-Eleven on Thursday and Friday nights, which sounds completely normal; except Akira had the ability to communicate with the dead. She maintained a quiet life by keeping her sixth sense a secret from both the living and the departed, until a particularly persistent spirit flips everything into chaos when he entangles Akira in a hunt for a murderer.

'God, I'm late again!' Jane thought as she hurried through the streets. 'Mr. Smith is going to be so mad!' She decided to take a shortcut through some back alleys that she would normally rather avoid. Suddenly, she heard a series of whimpers, thumps, and yelps coming from another alley nearby. It sounded like a dog in pain, being beaten by something heavy 'Maybe if I make a noise, whatever is attacking that dog will get scared and run.' She stopped. She had just peaked her head around the corner and saw not one but two . . . men? . . . standing at the other end of a dead-end alley and overlooking a very large, furry pile of animals that seemed to be twitching. Normally, Jane would have been filled with terror at that moment, but terror was normally reserved for those with something to lose. There was a part of Jane, however, that still clung to the charade that was her life. Her hands began to tremble and her lungs released a scarcely audible gasp. Then the two standing figures turned and faced the end of the alley where Jane was hiding. "I'm going to call the police!" she shouted, lacking anything better to say. One of the figures shook his head and smiled. All his teeth seemed to be far too pointy. "That would be a very . . . terrible . . . mistake," he hissed, his words escaping his mouth like dead air from a pharaoh's tomb. And then both of them headed towards her at an inhuman pace. "No," one of them rasped. "Finish it. I'll get the girl." The other one stopped and snarled some kind of response.

On the fifth year after marrying Giovanni Santoro, the Don of the Santoro family, he decides to make a public appearance with his mistress, Valentina Conti. He no longer denies the truth behind the romantic scandals. Videos of them that have been taken in secret, as well as salacious gossip featuring the two, are spread like wildfire in New Albion. It's an act of declaring ownership over Giovanni that he himself has silently permitted. There are even busybodies who don't know their place and decide to prod me for answers with smiles on their faces. "Does this mean someone else is going to replace you as the Donna of the family?" That night, the underworld of New Albion secretly goes through a thorough purge. I file for a divorce with Giovanni immediately before marrying his biggest enemy, Franco Messina. After that, the Santoro family goes into bankruptcy. Their power and authority easily crumble into dust. Giovanni kneels before me. With tears running down his face, he begs me for forgiveness. I just smile while waving the divorce agreement in my hand. "Sorry, but we're already divorced."

Trigger Warning: abuse, violence, torture, sexual violence. Echo has known only pain for the last ten years. Being treated as a pack slave, she has cooked, cleaned, and worked harder than anyone she knows. Her reward for her efforts? Days without food and non-stop abuse from everyone in the pack. To make matters worse, one of her biggest tormentors is also completely obsessed with her. She has never known anyone in the pack to show her an ounce of kindness. When a visiting alpha from a neighboring pack turns out to be her fated mate, her life may hang in the balance. Will he be her saving grace, or will he reject her for her weakness? Will she ever escape the abuse? If so, can she escape the clutches of the powerful man who believes she belongs to him?

She was never meant to want him. He was never meant to need her. But some shadows are too enticing to ignore… For as long as Isla Montgomery can remember, Liam Sinclair has been more than just her father's best friend—he's been a whispered name in the hallways, a powerful presence in their family conversations, and a haunting figure in her daydreams. Charismatic, cold, and irresistibly out of reach, Liam built an empire from the ashes of betrayal. And now, he's back—richer, harder, and more broken than ever. Isla is no longer the wide-eyed girl he once brushed aside. She’s grown, bold, and dangerously drawn to the man who was always forbidden. But when her father's past begins to unravel, Isla finds herself tangled in a web of secrets, lies, and a truth that could shatter everything. As her world crumbles and Liam’s enemies close in, Isla must decide: Is she chasing the man... or the shadow of who he used to be? Because loving Liam Sinclair could be her greatest rebellion—or her final downfall.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.

The night the family’s don was attacked, my husband had abandoned his post to win back his misbehaving mistress. The first time I lived through this, I activated his communication device to summon him back. He thus saved the don and rose through the ranks. However, his mistress had died in the firefight, and he blamed it all on me. Thus, on my delivery date, he dumped me in an abandoned factory and had some stray dogs rip me and my baby apart. “There were so many bodyguards there that night. Why did you have to call me back? You knew that she would die! You did this on purpose!” Somehow, right before I died, I went back in time to that night. I did not activate the communication device this time. I threw it into the fountain and watched it sink. Then, although I was eight months pregnant, I shielded the don and took the bullet meant for him.

Zoe Ailee or Ailee Elysia had to leave the entertainment world after finding out she was pregnant. Ailee clearly knew who the father of her children was because it was only with that man that Ailee did it. Aaron Alison Louvin, a mysterious billionaire who was fucking her the night of the misunderstanding. The man didn't even know the seeds he planted would eventually grow into adorable triplets. Ailee notices her children's peculiarities, when the eldest Loudy can suddenly move at high speed when he is still learning to walk, or Lawly the middle child who can command stray dogs to leave his house, then the youngest Lucille who approaches Ailee while innocently handing over a dead rabbit full of blood. Ailee knew then that she had not slept with a human that night. This was confirmed when she accidentally saw her eldest transform into a tiny grayish-white wolf. Ailee was shocked, but over time, she came to accept her children's identity. Until one day the triplets disappeared. It was impossible for Ailee to report it to the police since her children were 'different' from other children. Finally, Ailee goes to Aaron and asks for his help to find her children. However, at the same time, Aaron was already living with his mate. Tifanny Rhianna, a werewolf who was mated to him.

John Garnett's secretary fed me to the dogs on my own birthday. I called his number endlessly to call for help, only for him to block my number immediately, as he fooled around with his secretary at the presidential suite in broad daylight. All I felt was agony as I was ripped into countless little pieces, still holding on to the black rose seeds he had given me when we were younger. That was not thrilling enough for the secretary, however, she buried me in the backyard of John' villa, intent on making my perished soul watch their bedroom activities. It was not until rain poured a month later, and a cluster of black roses suddenly grew in the backyard. "Where's Claire? I was just scaring her with the dogs—did she run away just to spite me?"

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"