Macrophile Stories Novels & Stories

Penelope’s POV I got my first phone as a gift from my uncle when i entered seventh grade. It was the purple iphone twelve and it was the best day of my life. I used it for my assignments after school hours, i used it to capture moments with my friends and most importantly, i used it to make more money and get the stuff I always wished i had. They called it the cheat app. An app where you talk to older men or pedophiles and the dirtier the talk, the higher the pay.

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

Not only spoiling fawaz but many kids too, she loves children. She thought maybe when she is nice to them she will get her own bundle of joy running around the house. She served herself and Khadija in the same plate, sipping the cold drink. She thought about her mother. She missed her so much, her mother died due to anaemia and since then nafisa has been researching on the disease . "Hey, you seem out"Khadija said acknowledging her cousin's mood. Nafisa shrugged it off with a nothing which came out barely as a whisper. They ate the food in silence.

AMARACHI'S POV. Whoever wrote that article in the school's student journal must be very stupid. He/She probably has a personal issue with Christabel. Nothing in that article is right. Christabel never begged Jeff to have sex with her. This crazy! Who would have done this? I don’t think Jeff did this but apart from Ade, Michelle and me, no one else knows that Christabel likes Jeff. Taking one more look at the article, I hissed and annoyingly left the page. The comments were very nasty.

Three weeks into October, Dr. Whitmore from the National Institute of Neurological Disorders called with an opportunity that changed everything. "I'm on the review board for the Breakthrough Research Initiative," she explained, her voice crackling over Marcus's office phone. "We're allocating emergency funding for high-impact neuroscience projects, and your name came up in our discussions. Combined with word that you have a visiting researcher from Berkeley—Dr. Vasquez, is it? we're wondering if you'd be interested in submitting a proposal."

I would normally just brush it off and apologize, but my mind just blanked for some reason earlier. I still don't understand why these people are suddenly gaining colors. Why specifically these people? It's not even limited to the people at school anymore since Al's obviously from somewhere else. It just doesn't make sense. It's not like I know them from anywhere else. I wish I knew something more about my illness so I could at least stop being so confused. Come to think of it, I haven't even told Aunt Autumn about any of what happened. Maybe she can somehow help me understand. I doubt it, but I can still hope for answers.

"Like I told you once already I have vioatale moods when I am extermely aroused but also when I am very mad. My druidry goes beyond just the capablity that those who are not born into would be allowed. I am a Gendopagan, or master druid, if I so chose. My clan as it runs now are all pure. Shelly, Sasha, and Carson we drink blood and even though we don't need the sexually pleasure I chose to because to me it makes the blood sweeter." "That almost sounds like a vampire but your out in the sun to much and you don't sparkle." "No not a vampire I assure there are a few things that could kill me. Although somewhat similar I guess." He stopped as the waitress arrived with their dinners. "Are you tr

"I’ve synchronized the Phoenix network with a decentralized, unhackable blockchain. They can't delete what we’re about to upload. Once it's in the chain, it's eternal." Sophia didn't launch a clumsy frontal assault. Instead, she initiated "Transparent Humanity." Across every major social platform and news aggregator, a series of "Blind Stories" began to trend with viral ferocity. They weren't legal briefs; they were anonymous, high-detail accounts of "The Elite's Harvest." One narrative described an aging oil tycoon’s heart transplant harvested from a 'compatible' twenty-year-old intern who had "disappeared" on vacation; another detailed a Silicon Valley mogul’s attempt to map the neural pat