Squidward Side Table Novels & Stories

My wife, Caroline Bailey, was a forensic pathologist. For her first love, Ian Lawson, she was willing to break every rule she held sacred and allowed him into the autopsy room to observe. She even let him throw acid onto a corpse's face. That was, until Caroline took on a new case. As she stood over the disfigured body on her operating table, she began to fall apart. The acid-burned face was starting to look more and more like mine.

Ugly, disguising, repulsing and plain were only a few 'compliments' Adana was accustomed to. Finally deciding she had had enough, she works hard to get the perfect revenge body she wanted and the table seemed to have flipped on her past enemies. The Richard twins. The perfect pair of polar opposite, move to Lakeland falls after escaping a possible death threat. What happens when they both seem pulled towards the melanin goddess in form of Adana Spindly.

I never meant for this to happen, But a dream can change your point of view on everything. One night, one dream about a forbidden love and all bets were off. I tried to stay away, but the long looks he gave me from across the room went unnoticed by everyone but me. I tried to put distance between us, but it’s hard when the object of your desire sits at your family dinner table once a week.

Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone. My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages. First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.] Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?] Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize. I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake. Eyes shut, I typed back: [Let's divorce.]

"Call me sir." He demanded."What?" I heard it correct yet asked again to make sure did I hear correct? "Don't your thick head get things at once?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows without moving his gaze from mine. No way I am going to call him sir. Thick head! It's the second time he told that. What does he think of himself?I cleared my throat and spoke. "Firstly, I'm not going to call you sir. I'm not your slave to do so. And secondly, I don't have a thick head." I protested. "Slave? Seeing a word by its abbreviation." He quirked a brow. "Your thick head has a little knowledge in it." This time he inched more close while the corner of his perfect shifted to a smirk. Move back, Mister!"Yes, I do see a word by its meaning," I said, trying not to fall in his gaze. (S.I.R = Slave - I - Remain) He got closer and closer and stooped near my ear while keeping his hands on the table, either side of me. I could feel his brushing against my earlobe when he spoke in a low deep voice. "If you don't, I'll cancel this deal." 'No! I can't let this happen.'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I am either drown into the deep green sea or flew up into the bright blue sky, for sure I was lost in his blue-green eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time marched by days into months and months into a year. Everything in my life has changed but one thing remains the same. Years ago I would've never pictured my life the way it is now.

Amalthea Romano is the most organized person you'd ever meet. From her closet, down to her study table, everything must be perfectly aligned. Ganoon din sa schedules niya! She's very goal oriented. She planned to graduate college, run the family business, get married eventually or maybe spend the rest of her life with her beloved pets. But one Sunday morning ruins it all. Papaanong biglang nasingit sa schedule niya ang maging babysitter?

At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter. I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back. Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading." And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.

I was the girl no one noticed. Until I opened File Case No. 0001. Azrael Atlas St. Claire. They call him “The Architect.” A ghost. A cold-blooded killer. A man so dangerous the FBI can’t touch. His death would shatter the economy. Rival syndicates would burn the city to kill him. He has no weakness. Then he found me. He appeared in my archive and vanished without a trace. The next morning, gifts started appearing on my nightstand. First, a bullet coated in dried blood. Second, ten fingers belonging to the man who touched me. He watched. Followed. Stalked my every move. Then one night, he came through my window. He took what he wanted while I floated in haze. I woke up sore, terrified…and craving for more—needing for more. The FBI saw a fracture in me, and decided to weaponize it. They wired me. Made me their spy with a promised I’d be safe if I helped them cage the monster. Yet, at the first sign of blood, they ran. Leaved me in chaos. He stayed. Now, I lived in his world. My mother thinks the lawyer at her table is a kind stranger. She didn’t feel his hand between my thighs underneath. She doesn’t know he’s been sculpting my life for years, long before we ever met. The FBI wants me to betray him. His enemies want me dead for revenge. But the monster who stole my life? He’s the only one who ever truly saw me. And I’m starting to wonder if that makes me just as dangerous as him. They say there’s a line between the victim and the villain. I don’t think I’m on the right side anymore.

Two worlds collide. On the one side is a human girl who prefers the company of animals over other humans. On the other side is a werewolf who is the alpha of his pack. He gets injured and needs her help. She takes care of him despite the warnings.

That night, I got off work early and brought home some late-night snacks. When I opened the door, I saw a pair of high heels carelessly tossed in the entryway and Gregory’s blazer thrown over the couch. His heavy breathing and the woman’s moans could be heard through the gap between the door and its frame. I was all too familiar with this sight. This time, I did not storm out like I used to. Instead, I sat quietly at the dining table and finished my cold pizza.