Questionable Morals Novels & Stories

Wonder said uncertainly. "Don't I? How do you know? How do I know? Maybe I do believe it. Maybe I've believed it for weeks and just been too committed to doubt to be certain about my own despair. Maybe questioning everything means questioning whether anything we're doing has value. Maybe doubting everything means doubting whether this path leads anywhere except deeper into meaninglessness." Wonder felt something cold forming in their chest. Fear. Real fear. "You're scaring me," Wonder whispered.

Larry hurriedly denied, averting his gaze away from Emile’s torch-like eyes. “You don’t have to deny.” Emile shook her head as she continued “Any fool can guess your motive. The only time one does something so immoral is when they have no morals or when they are in desperate need for money or for the person you love. You don’t fit the first two categories.” “How do you know? You don’t know me.” Larry still wanted to quibble. “If you belonged to the first category, your eyes wouldn’t be filled with regret as this is norm in your world.”

I think that everyone reaches a moment in their lives when they ask themselves 'is this right?' This moral question is reserved for those with a conscience. The majority of the people that walk the streets of this town don't have this faculty called a conscience. I fear that at this moment, I am part of the majority that don't have a conscience.

However, at this point my thoughts were only running wild, resulting to an uneasy feeling settling at the pit of my stomach. I suddenly began reflecting on my life. Being a rich bachelor has so many pitfalls, but the most aggravating one of all is that I was constantly a victim of gluttonous people. The fake endearment that I had constantly fallen into has only forced me to create an invaluable vision of trust. In consequence, trust has become a foreign word to me. At some point owning millions became an unbearable burden. A cruel reminder that despite having it all. I had nothing, but regardless of the torment, I couldn’t imagine myself leaving under critical conditions.

Vittorio asked calmly “Yes. I can't bear to look at her and think of the unspeakable things I want to do. It feels bad, evil and immoral. No matter how hard I try to overlook it, I simply can't. It's hard to.” “Why?” Sal asked out of nowhere “What?”

“Do you understand what this could do?” My chest tightened. “Yes. I know all of it, Homer. For fucks sake I read the book of ethics for doctors!” “If you’re wrong—” “I know.” “And if you’re right?” He pressed. I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know. Did I want to be right? Or wrong? The question twisted painfully inside me. Homer leaned back, exhaling deeply as he rubbed his face. “This is insane.” He muttered. “I know.” “This is completely insane.” He repeated.

“I came to remove the infection. You, Kade, profit from the infection. You want a crown made of corpses. I want a system that works and if it means burning the whole bed to keep the seedling alive, so be it.” The arguments were older than us all. Power had a thousand philosophers who slept in beds of velvet. They all had names for the thing they did; they all believed themselves morally justified. In the center of those names sat me, a girl who’d been made and remade like a sample in a lab. “Why tell us?” Damien demanded again. “Why not just—” he gestured toward the chaos they’d already created “—finish it without spectacle?”

“I’d never say it. I just think we need to walk right now.” It takes me a moment to grasp at what he’s hinting. Still, when I do, I refuse to believe it. Does he really think they put something on the car? A shiver runs down my spine, because, yeah, that’s exactly what he thinks and he’s probably right. But then again, even if a man as trusting as Manuel starts to question someone’s morality, we are all screwed. We share a look and he nods slowly, confirming my suspicions.

Sick, sick, sick. He'd never do it. This wasn't like a boy from school, or even a teacher. She could tease and tantalize him all she wanted, and nothing would ever happen. A boy from school or even a teacher, push him enough and sooner or later he'd snap and try something. Daddy, though? Her father? She could walk around the house in her birthday suit, could go ahead and let him catch her masturbating, and he would never lay a finger on her. He wouldn't dare. It was wrong. Sick, immoral, twisted and wrong. The law said so, the churches said so, everybody but the damn ancient Egyptians and hillbillies said so. Thinking about it was bad enough. Looking was bad enough. Actually doing something?

The headline read: TEENAGER CAUGHT ENTERTAINING A WOMAN IN HIS HOTEL ROOM. There was aggression in Pranav’s voice. ‘This eighteen-year-old kid recently signed a million dollar contract with the biggest football club in the world. Now this kind of thing would surely raise a few eyebrows. More now, that he was caught entertaining a woman! You know this world, inspector – it is full of hypocrites. These people will attack you for exercising your abilities, working hard, and being consistent. The liars, cheats and the serial losers suddenly find this guy a good target for attack. These same people would happily exchange lives with this teenager and would do even nastier things in his position. B