Post Apocalypse Truck

I still have a week before my due date when a truck suddenly hits me, sending me flying several feet and leaving me bleeding profusely on the ground. As I lose consciousness, I call my husband, Wallace Brown, begging him to rush over and save our unborn child, only for him to reply coldly, "It's Beth's 18th birthday party today, Meryl. You can't seriously be pulling one of your stunts on a day like this, can you?" In the next instant, I hear my son, Daniel Brown, exclaiming, "You're always using the baby to threaten us, Mommy! I really hate it when you do that!" Wallace stresses the importance of Beth's birthday party again, demands that I attend immediately, and then hangs up on me. With a pool of blood spreading beneath me, I close my eyes, overcome by despair. When I open my eyes again, I am met by the sight of a death certificate. The doctor delivers a crushing pronouncement. "I'm sorry, but if you had gotten here sooner, we might have been able to save the baby's life…" I look at the death certificate, feeling as though my heart died with my baby. I finally decide to leave this family, yet now they're the ones begging me to stay.

Ten years after being the sole survivor of a catastrophic train disaster, a Tanzanian student discovers that his survival wasn't a miracle—it was a mutation. Now, he is the most wanted organism on Earth. FULL SYNOPSIS The crash should have killed him. The truck should have finished the job. Ten years ago, a midnight train to Mbeya was derailed by a mysterious explosion of violet light. Hundreds perished in the wreckage. Only one person walked away: an eight-year-old boy found without a scratch. The world called it a miracle. The government called it a closed case. Now a Form Six student, the boy just wants a normal life. But "normal" ends the day he is struck by a speeding semi-trailer in the city streets. In front of a horrified crowd, his severed limbs don't just bleed—they boil, snap, and regenerate in a terrifying display of biological immortality. Caught on camera, the video goes viral within hours, shattering his anonymity and alerting the shadows. He is no longer a student. He is Patient Zero. Hunted by "Six," a ruthless biotech corporation seeking to harvest his DNA to engineer a new breed of mutants, and pursued by a government desperate to bury the secrets of the Mbeya Incident, he is forced to run. With no allies and a body that refuses to die, he must uncover the truth about what really happened on that train ten years ago before he becomes a lab rat for the highest bidder. He survived the crash. But can he survive the hunt?

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

Le jour de notre dixième anniversaire de mariage, mon ancienne meilleure amie a posté une photo. Sur l’image, sa fille et mon fils, chacun dans les bras de mon mari et d’elle. Tous les quatre serrés ensemble. La légende disait : « Une belle famille avec un fils et une fille. » J’ai commenté en dessous : « Très assortis. » La publication a disparu aussitôt. Le lendemain, mon mari a déboulé à la maison, furieux : « Sophie commençait juste à se sentir mieux, pourquoi tu l’as provoquée ? » Mon fils m’a poussée, plein de reproches : « C’est de ta faute ! Tu as fait pleurer ma petite sœur Cécile ! » J’ai sorti les papiers du divorce et les leur ai balancés au visage : « Ouais, tout est de ma faute. Alors je me casse. Profitez bien de belle famille à quatre. »

Dans notre vie antérieure, ma sœur Annick Dubost et moi avions recueilli deux œufs magiques. Le sien avait donné naissance à un Serpent de Glace, le mien à un Phénix de Feu. Elle s'était emparée sans vergogne de mon Phénix, mais l'Apocalypse de la Chaleur était survenue. Alors qu'Annick mourait de chaud, elle avait convaincu mon propre mari, ce Serpent de Glace, de m'étrangler. Mais le destin nous avait ramenés pourtant au jour de l'éclosion. Cette fois, Annick a choisi l'œuf du Serpent de Glace, certaine qu'il la protégerait de la fournaise. Mais elle ignorait un détail crucial : pour conserver ses pouvoirs, un Serpent de Glace devait boire du sang frais… chaque jour.

After my twin sister Harper died, my Alpha mate hated me for ten years. For a whole decade, I was his Luna, and I tried every possible way to be good to him. One day, he said, “If you really want to please me so much, then just die.” So when a truck was coming at me, I didn’t even move, but I had never expected that Noah would push me out of the way to save me. He was badly injured. Before he died, he looked at me and whispered, “Charlotte, if only I had never met you, everything would have been better.” At Noah’s funeral, all the elders and members of the pack came. “I should have let Noah choose Harper as his Luna. I regret forcing him to choose you back then. You killed him!” Noah’s mother was overcome with grief. Noah’s father also said, “You know? Noah saved your life three times! He was such a kind-hearted Alpha. Why didn’t you die instead?” Everyone at the funeral stared at me with blame. Finally, I was thrown out of the funeral, lost and devastated. Three years later, with the help of a witch, I returned to the past through her spell. This time, I have made a decision. No matter what, I will never be Noah’s Luna again.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

In the fifth year after migrating to a new country, my wife, Nyra Sinclair, brings her first love, Jacob Griffin, and his daughter, Zoe Griffin, home with her. "Jacob and Zoe are new to this country, so they shall be staying with us for the time being." I get into a huge fight over this matter with Nyra. On my birthday, Nyra hands me a divorce agreement. She urges, "Hurry up and sign it. Jacob needs a green card. We'll have to go through a fake divorce first." With a frown on my face, I try to pry for more details from Nyra, only to get accused that I don't have any sympathy for Jacob at all. A short while later, I see Jacob's latest post on Instagram. "Nyra is getting a divorce for my and Zoe's sake! We finally have a place to call home!" I just leave a like there quietly. After leaving my signature on the divorce agreement, I lodge a request to my company so that I can fly back to my home country, Myrthia.