One Last Stop Spicy Novels & Stories

"Those things are prone to spilling during transport. How about some sushi instead? It'll be easier on your stomach since you haven't eaten for two days." "You know what? I suddenly have cravings for something spicy. So why don't you get me some spicy tacos instead?" "Fine…" said Spencer. He got up and walked to the door. Before he left, he reminded her, "Stay here and don't go anywhere. I'll be back real quick." A sports car passed by Spencer as he was walking around the neighborhood. It immediately stopped within a few feet of him as if the driver wanted to check him out through his rearview mirror.

“Order the same food as the table next to ours. The same food as the table next to theirs? Sirius cast a glance at Carol’s table, and he was shocked. They had ordered only spicy food… He hated spicy food… Sirius gave Boaz a signal. “Don’t go all wild on the spicy with me. Once you order the same food as Carol and Myka, order some non-spicy food for me.” But Boaz did not listen to him and handed the menu back to the server. “Titus likes spicy food, so just give us the same food as the table next to ours.”

The symphony of flavors dances upon her taste buds, transcending her into a world of pure bliss. Not one to shy away from bold flavors, Beatrice steers her breakfast adventure towards The Spicy Shack, a hidden gem renowned for its fiery morning delights. With a daring spirit, she orders a plate of huevos rancheros, adorned with zesty salsa and a sprinkle of fiery jalapeños. As the heat builds in her mouth, a twinkle of satisfaction lights up her eyes, knowing she has conquered yet another culinary challenge.

They might said that I'm a Kill Joy person. "Why does it tastes like this? It's hot! It doesn't taste well!" I said and she gave me a lemon. "It's Tequila, and this one is Black Label." Gelli said. "Why does many people like liquor even if it doesn't taste so well?" I asked her and she laughed, until a man came at me. "Katie." That was a familiar voice. "Why are here? Are you stalking me? Don't stalk me anymore! I am not interested on you." I shout and everyone on the party screams.

Tess wiped down the scarred oak bar with a rag that had seen better days, the jukebox humming low with some old Johnny Cash song. The Last Stop sat right where the county road met the state highway—half bar, half truck stop, all dust and neon. Neon beer signs buzzed in the windows, and the parking lot was half-full with pickups, big rigs, and a couple of beat-up motorcycles. Friday night meant the usual crowd: locals blowing off steam, truckers passing through, and the occasional drifter looking for trouble or a cold one.

It loomed alone against the night sky, no lights, just a dark, hulking shape crouched in the darkness. It was the place I had decided on. The most fitting place for it all to end. The cuts on my palms had already scabbed over, but I could not stop myself from picking at the edges. The scab tore free and fresh blood beaded to the surface, sticky on my fingertips, carrying a faint copper smell. It was fine. Just a little longer. I just had to hold on a little longer, and it would all be over. I would never have to go back to that hell.

“Mom, I am giving you one last chance. Stop the car.” Morgan hung up. She told me to pull out the SIM card and throw it out the window. “Hold on tight.” She turned her head and looked at me with a deep, steady gaze. “Mira, I have not done much good in this life. Let this be the one good thing.” The engine let out a rough roar. Morgan pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The battered sedan shook as it surged forward. In the rearview mirror, the black SUV suddenly accelerated and closed in behind us.

"I know you want to marry me soon. I do too. Next year. We'll definitely get married next year, okay?" The faint smell of alcohol lingered on his breath as it brushed against my neck. However, this time, I did not melt like I used to. I pushed him away and slapped him. "Nolan, I've made myself very clear, we're breaking up. I'm not marrying you." That slap did not just wake him up. Even Silvia, sprawled on the couch, seemed to sober up a little.

It moved faster than sound. Everything just stopped. People's conversations ended suddenly, right in the middle of what they were saying. The sound of coins being exchanged on the market tables came to a halt. Even the music from a violin somewhere beneath us was cut off abruptly, with a harsh scraping sound. Then, one by one, people's faces turned up to look at me, until every single pair of eyes in the room was fixed on me. Not Cassian. Me. A young boy stood frozen near a butcher's stall, his small hand clutching someone's wrist, which was wrapped tightly in paper. As he gazed up, his pale eyes grew wide with a mix of fear and surprise, the expression spreading slowly across his face.

The candle that was shaped like a 2 on the cake felt like a joke. At the end of his call, as if Jason Smith felt guilty, he added, "I've neglected you lately, so once I'm done with this busy period, shall I take you to see the aurora?" I hung up, and our home went completely silent. Even the air seemed to be mocking my marriage. What a failure all of this was. It was at this time that Jason's assistant sent me a message on WhatsApp, asking in that familiar way what I wanted reimbursed this time and telling me to just name it.