Male Writer Novels & Stories

When I was born, the nurse handed me over to my parents, and the smiles on their faces instantly vanished. Hovering over their son's smooth head was a line of numbers that no one else could see. 6570 days. It was exactly 18 years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse thought they were just nervous first-time parents, but my parents knew the truth. That number was my lifespan. While everyone else in the delivery room was celebrating a new life, my parents were staring at my death. For the next 18 years, I was the most precious person in the family. No matter how poor we were, the eggs were always mine, the new clothes were always mine, and the meat was always mine. My younger sister could only look on enviously. My parents often told her, "Let your brother have it. He doesn't have much time left." I was well-behaved from a young age, never causing trouble, quietly waiting to die. On my 18th birthday, I blew out the candles and said a sincere goodbye to the world. The next day, my parents and sister, dressed in black clothes, walked into my room with swollen eyes. I rubbed my eyes, smiled at them, and said, "Good morning." The air froze. The sadness on their faces slowly turned into astonishment, then coldness.

On the day of my wedding, I waited on the stage for six long hours with the wedding ring in my hand. The bride never came. Instead, I was greeted with the sight of my older sister's bloodied corpse. To make things worse, my wife, Winona Graham, was the one who defended the murderer in the court. I demanded answers from Winona like a madman, only to be locked up in an oven that was toggled to 200 degrees Fahrenheit by her. "Are you done, Arthur? It's Annabelle's own fault that she died in the first place! This has nothing to do with Hudson at all! He has just started his life as a young adult, and I won't let you ruin his life! "Just sit here and reflect on yourself! The moment you decide to sign the Letter of Understanding is the moment I'll get someone here to free you from the oven!" After that, I was trapped in the oven for 12 hours, resulting in my death from getting burned alive. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Winona throws the Letter of Understanding in my face.

It was the day Jessica Goldenfold got the International Wealth Club Charity Award. My doctor pronounced me dead, for I could not afford the artificial heart needed for my survival. The show's host asked Jessica to call the one whom she had the most regret about. She called my number. I picked it up. She asked, "Do you ever regret leaving me for money?" I stared at the obscene bill for the artificial heart. Then, I chuckled. "You're a rich girl, Jessica. How about a loan of 30 grand?" She killed the call. I watched her telling everyone in front of the cameras, "No more regrets." She had no idea at all. She had no idea that I was the one who gave my heart to her when she had heart failure. I did it behind her back.

My best friend, Patrick Morris, always pops my fiancee's cherry before my wedding in order to ensure that I have an amazing wedding night with her. Every time, he will record them going at it before sending it to me. "I've taught your fiancee 1000 positions in bed. You're really lucky to be with her on your wedding night!" After Patrick has snatched 99 fiancees from me, I suffer from a mental breakdown. Then, I sell my apartment and leave the city. Finally, I get to meet my true love, Ariel Booker. But on my wedding day, Patrick shows up in front of me, disguised as a makeup artist. "Caleb, you can get married once I'm done grooming your fiancee for you!" After that, he drugs me before climbing into Ariel's bed. Thank goodness I'm able to wake up on time and rush into the bedroom with a group of people flocking behind me. Later on, I have Patrick locked up behind bars. But Ariel decides to run over my legs with her car, effectively crushing them. When I'm stuck in bed as a cripple, she throws my mom, who's severely ill, into a meat grinder. "I'm free to give my virginity to whoever I want. Why the hell are you meddling with my business? Since you're the reason behind Patrick's imprisonment and suicide, you and your mom should pay the price with your lives!" When I open my eyes, I've returned to the day of my wedding. At the moment, Patrick is dressed as a makeup artist while stamping my face with a meat-grading stamp.

The New Year was just around the corner. While I was doing a thorough cleaning, I stumbled upon something beneath the couch. It was a damp, used condom, and it still had a faint lipstick stain on the edge. One thing I was sure of was that I didn't use this brand, but the lipstick color? It matched perfectly with my girlfriend Lindsey Stirling's.

My wife, a doctor, treated our daughter like a walking blood bank. When our daughter passed away, she took it even further. She transplanted her corneas into her old flame’s son. Before our daughter’s body was even cold, she was out having dinner with her ex and his son. They were celebrating that the boy could see again. She even went so far as to secretly burn our daughter’s body to get rid of any evidence. By the time I got there, all I saw was my daughter's ashes being swallowed up by the flames. I told her I wanted a divorce. She just sneered, “It’s only a daughter. Are you really going to divorce me over this?” But later, she was down on her knees, begging me not to leave her.

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

I’m the public lover of Tara Brewer, the underworld queen. She often dotes on me and treats me like I'm her most precious treasure, and she goes as far as to claim that she wants to give birth to ten children for me. But when I'm getting beaten up by others while completely drenched in my own blood, Tara doesn't recognize me at all. Instead, she turns to comfort her beau, Brandon Holden. "That filthy bastard has crossed you, honey! You can just beat him to death! I'll be your safety net!" Only then do I realize that Brandon is Tara's lover this whole time. As soon as Tara's words fall, she snatches the boxing gloves from Brandon and begins punching my face, which has a mixture of blood and tears streaking down my cheeks. At the same time, she says icily, "Don't worry. Once you're dead, I'll inform your wife so that she can pick up your corpse."

When my younger sister, Paige Nielson, was three months pregnant, she was struck by a car, killing her and her unborn baby on the spot. My CEO wife, Christina Ashmore, vowed vengeance on the driver; that he shall pay the price with his own life. But when she found out that the accused is actually Roland Burstyn, her first love who had disappeared for the past seven years, she decided to sign the letter of forgiveness on my behalf. Afraid that I might secretly sue Roland once again, Christina had me admitted into a psychiatric hospital. Throughout the next three years, I had six ribs broken by others, not to mention I lost an eye as well. When the psychiatric hospital is found to not have all legal credentials that can keep it running, I'm finally released from its confines. When Christina and I meet again, she pats me off-handedly on the shoulder. "I'm only able to reunite with Roland after so long, so I can't handle the pain of losing him again. Anyway, I already bought Paige the best graveyard plot one can afford. Roland doesn't owe you anything now. As long as you don't target him, I can keep supporting you financially." I don't respond to Christina at all. Instead, I text my dad, whom I've cut ties with for a decade. "I can forgive you, but it comes with a condition. You need to avenge me."

My wife, Heather Conner, secretly steals the funds I've saved up for our daughter, Naomi Hartman's surgery. After that, she books a high-class hotel for Jared Winters, the low-income student she has been sponsoring, just so she can celebrate his birthday with him. When I find out about it, I demand that Heather return all the money to me. But she slaps me immediately and blames me and Naomi for causing her trouble on purpose. "This is the first birthday Jared and I are celebrating together! Since it's such a big day, it's only natural that I hold it in a grand and lavish manner! "Instead, you two insist on undergoing that stupid surgery just when I've booked the hotel instead of scheduling it at any other time! You really are vile! "I've already inquired with the doctor about the surgery. Turns out it's completely optional! I might as well put the money to good use by giving Jared an unforgettable birthday instead of having you waste it on a useless surgery! "Even if Naomi does end up dying, that means she's fated to die anyway! You can't blame anyone for her death!" Heather just abandons Naomi, who's still fighting for her life. She then drives Jared to the hotel, where they spend the night watching a beautiful fireworks display. With 12 critical notices issued by the doctor in my hand, I kneel before Monica Brown, the richest woman in the city. "I'm willing to marry into your family as long as you pay me 35 thousand dollars' worth of wedding gifts!"