Mystic Messenger Emails Novels & Stories

They're already rebuilding their access to my mind. The message was signed simply: S

It was there. A new message popped in and I didn't even know when I clicked open. Shocked, I almost logged out immediately, but the message was quite unbelievable. FROM: GARRYMYSTEFIER@G***L.COM DO SEND THE BALANCE. THE LAST REPORT WE STOLE & YOU TOOK CREDIT FOR HAS BEEN APPROVED. N. Who was N?

My phone buzzed again just as I stepped into the sunlight. I already guessed it was a spam message, but I still checked anyway because I wasn't busy at the moment. The logo on the email was a capital letter ‘M.’ The tightness in my chest sharpened, feeling more than just an ordinary tightness from a moderate workout. I wondered why Malcolm would send an email. What could have happened? When I finally looked at the screen, it wasn't his name that the M stood for. MUSEUM—GRAYSON MUSEUM OF HISTORY AND ART

Warm regards, Michy Himyz ;)

He was a tether to a world that actually cared if she breathed. "I’m heading into the brush for a bit. Won't be able to reach you until seven," he messaged around four—the hour the elite packs gathered for combat drills. "But I sent a gift. Open your scrolls." She pulled up her mail on the battered tablet she’d salvaged from the Academy’s scrap heap. There it was, a new message from SinceYouDontKnowMe@lycanmail.com. She snorted. The man had a flair for the dramatic. Dear Emily,

He didn't leave immediately but sat there to accompany Svarga in his thoughts until an email notification appeared on the task back monitor of the phone. Asasemation@cursed: (attachment) "Svarga... the mysterious person who once sent you a message now sends an email to me...."

-Synchronized to Damian as you requested. -Remember to pay, you can always come to us when you need more help. Thank you for your patronage. Seeing this string of messages, Maya's spirit tortured by the double waiting instantly sobered up. She immediately sat up, took out the computer from her already packed bag, opened it, and logged into her mailbox. The faint voice in the mobile phone has also become an unimportant background sound. The latest email in the mailbox belongs to Jerry. The attachment is huge and there are many items.

His lips thinned instantly as he picked up the intercom. “Madison, respond to the email on my behalf. I will be there at the exact time.” “Yes, sir,” Madison responded from her side of the intercom, heaving a sigh of relief. She was equally expectant to hear a response from the MRAB Group, and this seemed like a pleasant Friday night surprise since the meeting was on Monday morning. As Madison was drafting the response on her computer, a message popped up on her phone. ‘Do you believe in ghosts? Call this number when you get home and don’t ask who.’

AFTER A DEEP contemplation, Michelle had finally decided to contact her best friend, Megan, who was living in the United States. Her palms were sweating as she sat down on the table, facing her laptop and then logging into her email account. For the first time after escaping six years ago, she checked her personal email and figured out that Megan had sent her hundreds of emails all this time. Her eyes burned, hot tears starting to pool in them as she scrolled all the way down, scanning the subjects of Megan’s email which all asking her to come back and to contact her.

do I even need people anymore? My phone pings on the counter. A standard email notification tone. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and pick it up. probably a spam email or a late update from David. I unlock the screen. From: Alex Reed areed@neuralkink.com Subject: Coffee? My breath catches in my throat. I drop the towel. I open the email, my heart hammering against my ribs—harder than it did during the orgasm. Mia, I know this is unorthodox. And I know you've probably figured out who I am by now.