One Shot Novels & Stories

The stage was set, the players were in their places, and the curtain was about to rise on a final, brutal act of violence. Then, it happened. A single gunshot, a loud, cracking sound that shattered the silence of the ballroom. The bullet, fired from a distant sniper's nest, whizzed past Dante's head, a chilling reminder of the game they were playing. The false peace of the summit was shattered, replaced by a deafening chaos of screams, gunfire, and shattered glass.

But victory costs a breath And the gun fires at point blank range. As the shot echoes through the desert Only one truth remains Someone is not walking away.

The summer afternoon sun was scorching, making me dizzy and disoriented. Before I knew it, I had arrived near the library, and my footsteps stopped as if guided by some unseen force. I stood at the library entrance and heard two security guards talking in low voices. "That shooter's aim was really accurate. It didn't seem like a random shot at all." "Exactly, I've watched the surveillance footage several times. It was like he specifically targeted that student." I felt my heart skip a beat. So, Alex's death wasn't an accidental injury—it was premeditated.

She wouldn't stop preaching about her idea of "true love" She even started messaging Lionel every day. [Only two people who truly love each other deserve to be together. [It's okay to meet the right person later in life. [Until I meet the right one, I'll never settle for less and just marry whoever.]

One successful shot earned a point, but if a shooter hit someone chosen by their opponent, it was worth ten points. Lena watched in horror as two men with their hands tied were dragged onto the field. Her eyes widened as she watched Nero pick up a gun from the tray. "What kind of game is this?" she whispered to herself. When she heard the word "game," she had imagined something like chess or even football—not this. "The left eye," Quero said smugly. Nero chuckled, loaded his gun, and aimed. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. "He messed with the gun," Nero growled, glaring at Quero, who smirked wickedly. Nero pressed the trigger again, and this time, the bullet hit the man’s arm ins

Enzo’s eyes went wide, pleading and begging me to spare him. “I’ll count to six and each time I will shoot if you’re lucky and you talk before the bullet gets fired then you get to keep your unborn children if not good for me I don’t have to worry about killing mini Enzo’s” I say nonchalantly. “One” I say sitting cross-legged. “Boss please” he whimpers crying as snorts run down his nose. “Wrong answer” I say pulling the trigger. Lucky for him his balls are still safe. “Two” I continue not wasting any more time.

A first time she could savour. But nothing more. Lila just didn't believe. Turned out, she waited far too long for the fantasy that was them. “No, I don't believe you," she answered feebly. "It's just sex. Please don’t tell Serena about tonight,” she gasped, right before the first orgasm hit her out of nowhere. Her first climax crashed through her like a slow, gentle flame that soon turned into a wildfire. Her pussy clamped down around him in rhythmic pulses, milking his cock as she shook and sobbed his name into his shoulder.

On the last trip before Zeke Malone and I were set to register our marriage, someone clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the bushes to assault me. Zeke and my sister, Crystal Bianco, arrived just in time to "save" me. That was when I heard Zeke switch to French and ask her, "Did you get enough footage just now?" "Yeah," Crystal answered back in French. "But isn't this unfair to Lizzie?" Zeke's voice turned grave. "The man was only acting. He never actually went through with it. We just needed the footage. As long as I don't hold it against her, that's all that matters. "Besides, you could win a Pulitzer for breaking this story. That's what actually matters here." I lay in

And then the camera shifted as she turned around. Gabriel’s lungs completely lost their oxygen. Standing just two feet ahead of her was a little boy. He was wearing bright red rubber boots, holding a plastic toy, and looking up at the shelves with an expression of pure, unadulterated arrogance that Gabriel saw in his own mirror every single morning. The camera caught the child's profile, the sharp, unmistakable square of the jaw, the high forehead, and even from a distance, the striking clarity of his eyes. Behind the girl's coat, a tiny hand was visible, holding a little girl with dark curls close to her side.

I didn't. "For what it's worth," he said, quiet, close now, "I don't think this happens twice. Whatever this actually is between us — I've been trying to find the right words for it for months, and I keep landing on the same thing. Once in a lifetime. That's what this is. That's what you are." I felt the words land somewhere I hadn't fully guarded in a long time. "Once in a lifetime," I repeated, testing the shape of it, finding that it fit exactly as well as he'd made it sound. "Yeah. I think that's right."