Long Shot Novels & Stories

My curiosity sharpened instantly. I glanced between the two, waiting. When I made to stand, Lucas subtly raised a hand, and I froze mid-motion, perched at the edge of my seat. His eyes scanned the screen. Slowly, deliberately. Then his jaw clenched. The anger rose in him like a controlled detonation, silent but unmistakable. “What happened?” I asked, the suspense scraping at my nerves. The quiet was unbearable, too long, too heavy. “It’s Gordon,” Lucas said finally. “He shot his shot.”

Let it be. "Guys, this is the hik* son of my wife's boss hik*, Sir Miggy and this is his cousin Sir Alexander, hik*. What a handsome kids." Tatay Mario introduced us to his friends. "That's how I looked when I was young." "Come on! Crap that, Lando." They laughed and we started drinking again. After a few minutes, my vision is slowly spinning. I only drank six glasses and I don't want to drink again.

Smirk sharp as shattered crystal. “Didn’t I give you one just as grand last week? What’s there to envy?” His fingers tightened on her waist, backing her against the wrought-iron pergola draped in jasmine. “Play your part. Don’t slip around Lena. Everything she has? You’ll have it too.” Now I remember. Five nights ago, crimson meteors streaked across New York’s southern skyline, a blood-magic spectacle. He’d texted: “Clan emergency. Working late.”

The shooter was knocked out, a deep cut on his temple oozing blood. He walked over to the window, taking care to remain behind the black drapery. He peered downward. Down below, the Rue des Eaux-Vives was empty. No BMW. No van. Not yet. He’d been in time. His eyes ran over the rifle. Custom-made .338 Lapua Magnum—with a purpose for ultra-long-range accuracy and guaranteed deadly performance. The cross-hairs were focused on a spot on the parking lot just outside the delivery door of the print shop. A clammy dread, not resulting from his own activity, spread across his skin. He'd have witnessed Anton's head explode into a pink cloud in another second, perhaps a heartbeat.

My heavy balls slapped against her ass as I gripped her tits and started slamming into her hard. She screamed in pleasure while I fucked her like an animal. I felt long nails on my ass — Gigi had come up behind me. She walked around the bar, moved a potted plant, and pulled out a small digital camera with the red light already blinking. They’d been recording the whole fucking time.

My pulse quickened as my eyes moved from one to the next, my stomach tightening. And then I saw it. That gun. I stumbled back, the air rushing from my lungs as the memories slammed into me. The memories I always wanted to forget. --- FLASHBACK Memory from eighteen years ago… The crack of the shot was deafening. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I pressed myself tighter against the tree, my tiny hands gripping the bark so hard it splintered my skin, my tears rolling down my cheeks. My mother’s voice was gone, replaced by the heavy thud of her wolf form hitting the ground before she shifted.

The first time I went to the boutique to try on wedding dresses, I stumbled upon the staff playing their game of “Guess the Bride.” The big screen inside was displaying the package my fiancé had reserved. Eager to snag the commission, the makeup artist spoke up first: “I remember the bride is petite and delicate. She looks absolutely stunning in a mermaid dress.” The photographer chime in: “She has straight bangs and two dimples when she smiles.” “Oh, right—and a red mole on her collarbone. She looks best in an off-shoulder gown.” I froze right on the spot. I had waist-length, voluminous waves, no dimples, and certainly no mole. The person they were describing fit my best friend—Charlotte Ho

I was left standing alone in the darkness of the night like a clown that no one cared about. I made an appointment for an abortion on my phone. Then, I turned to leave. I'd spent the past 15 years trying and failing to win Benjamin's heart. If that was the case, I didn't want it anymore. It was late at night when I returned to the nearest town. I got a room at a hotel and drifted off into a restless sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, I was jolted awake by the ringing of my phone. My superior at the TV station sounded anxious yet excited. "I heard a 5.3-degree earthquake happened at the old settlement near your location. You need to head there immediately to get the latest scoop!"

SOMEONE'S POINT OF VIEW I was reading today's newspaper when I saw some very interesting news written in it. 'The Sharp Shooter: The Oracle's Pride' was written in bold letters. I smirked at the sight of the picture attached to it. A beautiful lady with fiery red long hair who is holding a very exquisite gun in her hands. She is aiming at the target with her pair of keen silver eyes. It makes one person lose their mind with a quick glance at this picture, and I must admit that I am no exception.

He pulled the trigger. "Aaaaaaa aaa aaaaaaa," one of the boys made a loud heart-jerking shrill and fell onto the ground. He had just been shot at the leg. The other boys at the bank turned and met the dreadful sight of their friend sprawling on the ground, writhing in pain, blood gushing out of his left shank. They were shocked, but would not leave him behind, for the sake of friendship and respect for cultural norms. Neither could they proceed with their escape lest they all be like their friend. They gathered around him. They were about twenty in number. "Aaaaaa uuuush wooooi. Help meeee. I'm dying," the shot boy cried even more. They also began to cry, gripped by the agony of their friend