Sad Acting Novels & Stories

As soon as I kissed him, he pushed me aside, got up from the bed and walked over to the other end of the room. He suddenly seemed angry but I didn't understand why. Was it the kiss? Was it me? "You know what? Maybe we should do it some other time instead." He suggested. He began to sweat and was acting strange; like someone who was afraid of something but what he was afraid of, I couldn't tell. "Some other time?" I asked frustratedly because it wasn't the first time he was rejecting me. "I'm tired of hearing this bulshit over and over again." I wasn't going to take a no for an answer again, not this time. So, I walked over to him and claimed his lips for the second time. "Stop! He yelled at me in anger as he fell to the ground. He started groaning, rolling around in the floor like someone in pain. I was terrified by the scene and didn't know what to do. Next thing I knew, i heard the snapping of his bone and right before my eyes, he transformed into a creature; a creature I had seen before. The same type of creature that saved me on that fateful night. He stood before me with a raging red eyes and seven-inch long teeth. My mind was in distress and my knees gave way as I fainted from the shock.

At our wedding, my wife's assistant "accidentally" uploaded the wrong photo. The big screen was supposed to display our wedding portraits. Instead, it was a picture of my wife and him in full wedding attire. Their fingers were laced together, their eyes locked in a soft, intimate gaze, looking every bit like a blissfully happy couple. The entire venue erupted in shocked whispers. The assistant froze in shock, acting like he had no idea why he was in the photo. He started panicking, asking if we should just postpone the ceremony. My wife, however, stayed surprisingly calm. She whispered her solution, “Everyone’s here. Postponing now would be humiliating and, honestly, a bad omen. Beside, most people here don’t even know what the groom looks like. Why don’t we just let him stand in for you?” Our friends were dumbfounded. They all thought I’d explode in anger and jealousy after hearing something so outrageous. Instead, I nodded, saying it was actually a great idea. Seeing how composed I remained, my wife looked pleased with herself. She told me that since we were legally married anyway, she’d make it up to me later with another ceremony. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing: she had just signed the divorce papers.

At the family tea-tasting event, I openly admit that I am terrible at it. I also announce that I am cutting ties with the White family and giving up my inheritance rights. My father trembles with anger and points at me while furiously questioning, "Are you out of your mind?" My fiance, Liam Ford, holds the fake heiress, Laura White, in his arms. He snaps, "Juliana White, if you can't handle losing, then don't agree to compete in the first place. The way you are acting now is an embarrassment to my family and me!" Only I know that I am not crazy. In my previous life, at this very tea-tasting event that determined who got the right to the inheritance, they joined hands to drag me down in the most humiliating way. Laura beat me and uttered every tasting note I came up with first. Again and again, I try to prove myself, only to be refuted by her each time. She became the celebrated tea prodigy, while I turned into a laughingstock who made a fool of herself. In the end, I suffer a mental breakdown and run out of the house, only to be hit and killed by one of Laura's fans. No one bothered to claim and bury my corpse. When I open my eyes again, I am back at my first family tea-tasting event after being brought back to the White family.

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.

On the day of our engagement, my girlfriend, Jean Sullivan, is nowhere to be found until late at night. Beside myself with worry, I, Seth Lloyd, frantically reach out to our mutual friends and even consider calling the police. Suddenly, I come across a post about her from her assistant, Callum Cox. "My manager came over to discuss some plans, but the door lock suddenly broke. Does this mean we're going to be stuck in the same room tonight? I can't help feeling a little excited." When I like the post, Jean immediately calls me, furious. "Don't you have any idea how much I earn in a year? Just one day of my lost income would cover what you make in a whole week. "All I did was skip that stupid engagement party, and you start acting all snide. I don't have time to deal with your stingy relatives." My mom, Teresa Whitfield, stays silent, her eyes sweeping over the gold, eight sets of haute couture jewelry, and several property transfer deeds in the private room. With a forced smile, she asks, "Seth, have all these wedding gifts we've prepared embarrassed you?" I sneer, caressing the keys to the luxury car I'm about to give Jean. "No, it's me who's being too generous to her."

When a young girl named **Emilia** moves to an isolated, fog-drenched city in search of a fresh start, she quickly discovers that something is terribly wrong. The streets echo with silence, residents vanish without a trace, and time itself begins to twist and collapse. As doors appear in places they shouldn’t, and her own reflection begins acting on its own, Emilia realizes she’s trapped in a place that is not just haunted — it’s alive. Each chapter peels back a new layer of horror: shadowy watchers, eerie apparitions, underground tunnels, and ghostly echoes of past inhabitants. But the real terror lies within — the city seems to feed on fear, loneliness, and the feeling of failure. It reflects Emilia’s own anxieties back at her, warping her reality into a trial of the soul. As she searches for meaning, and later for escape, Emilia uncovers the city’s sinister purpose: it traps those most vulnerable and forces them to confront their darkest selves. With the help of other survivors — some real, some echoes — she must navigate psychological mazes and make impossible choices to survive. But survival isn't enough. Emilia must transform — not by escaping her fear, but by embracing it. In doing so, she becomes something more than a victim of the city. She becomes a guide, a witness, and eventually, a keeper of the door. *Trapped in the Hollow City* is a suspenseful, haunting exploration of inner demons, resilience, and the eerie beauty of choosing to become — even when the world seems built to break you.

Don’t trust anyone, not even yourself….You think you know someone pretty well, until you’re awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of unfamiliar voices and realize your sister’s being swept away by some supernatural creatures who climb in and out of windows and leap from two-story houses like it’s nothing.My parents tried to tell me everything was fine, but when Cadence finally did come back from wherever they’d taken her, I knew there was something unusual about my older sister.Now, her best friend is dead.Her ex-boyfriend is acting bizarre.And I’m afraid I might be next.My name is Cassidy Findley, and I’m pretty sure my sister is a vampire, despite her “co-worker” making every effort to brainwash me into believing otherwise. With the help of my two best friends, we vow to get to the bottom of this before it’s too late, and my sister starts to claim other victims. I love her, but I won’t be turned, nor will I just sit by without doing everything I can to stop her. I can only hope that I’m not too late and that I can trust my own memories.Because I’m pretty sure my sister’s friends are coming for me next.The Chronicles of Cassidy is a retelling of The Clandestine Saga specifically for young adult/teen readers told from the perspective of high schooler Cassidy Findley.

I accidentally used the shared bank card linked to my husband, Ryan Newman. Before I could even leave the store, two officers pinned me to the ground and accused me of embezzling company funds. Right then, Ryan’s new secretary, Georgia Hawkins, called me. "Mrs. Newman, I was the one who reported you! Do you have any idea how hard Mr. Newman works for his money? "He works himself to the bone every day. You can’t keep spending so recklessly anymore! Starting today, I’ll be managing all your expenses. Every purchase needs my approval first! "Oh, and your monthly spending limit is now $500. You already spent $499 today, so don’t even think about spending another cent this month." Listening to her smug little lecture, I laughed. Georgia had only been at the company for a month. Just because Ryan treated her politely at work, she’d started acting like she ran his entire life. Little did she know, the company belonged to me. Every dollar in Ryan's bank account came from me, including her paycheck. As for the Mr. Newman she worshiped so much? He was just the man who married into my family. So what gave her the right to manage my money?

My mom is 71 years old. Thanks to her arthritis acting up, she's in so much pain that she can't descend the stairs at all. She tentatively calls me and asks if she can rent an apartment that comes with an elevator of its own. But my wife, Lucy Glaser, brings out the household ledger and points at the red numbers on the pages. "Last month, you bought yourself a tie, which is 300 dollars beyond our monthly budget. Yet now you're planning on adding another impulsive expense?" Only then do I realize that I don't even have the freedom to buy myself a tie despite earning an annual salary of tens of millions of dollars. My mom is still trying to explain herself in a humble tone over the phone. "Oh, please don't feel troubled about it, Caleb. I was just asking on a whim. I've already grown used to my old home anyway…" After I end the call, I feel rather stuffy in my chest. What's there for me to feel troubled about? After all, I'm a partner of a top-tier law firm who earns tens of millions of dollars every year. The one who keeps standing in my way is Lucy, who's only a mid-level lawyer yet insists on controlling my finances. She also calls herself the best candidate for the household asset allocation.