The Little Man Who Wasn't There Novels & Stories

All of them now are happy, here is what they looking for, they are documenting everything, to prove, they are all authentic, they now can write a good research paper, based on their own experience validated by the videos they can show to anyone. “Why they are not talking with us” they asked the old man. “Because they are not allowed” he said. “Where are you living, where is your house” trying to communicate to the old man. “I have no house, because I am with this forest” Then slowly the old man vanishes from their eyes, vanish in the thin air, the bottle of wine he is drinking was left on the ground. Including all the small people were all gone in a blink of an eye.

It smelled lovely, like the man himself and I guessed it was so because the room was his "Tiny...where are you, buddy?"I called out to the little one in a soft low voice and lowered to check if he was hiding anyway. I searched the bed but he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around the bed, the dressing mirror and I searched the balcony but still, I didn't find it.

Hariel manages to find his friend's house. Actually, this friend was a former friend in the ocean. This person is once a merman and now living on the surface. Hariel saw that friend on the couch watching whatever on the box thingy that they call television. "So, did you manage to find the woman you've been looking for?" Milo asked with a smile on his face. Hariel looked at him and sighed. He went to the sink which Milo called and he opened it to drink water and poured some on his head.

It was then she noticed him. A man stood perfectly still near the terminal gates, as if untouched by the chaos around him. He wore a long gray coat that seemed out of place in the sticky Lagos humidity. While others shifted, gestured, and grumbled at bus conductors, he didn’t move. His head tilted slightly, eyes hidden beneath the brim of a dark hat. At first, Elena thought nothing of it. Lagos was full of strangers, after all—faces that blurred, lives that brushed briefly against hers before vanishing forever. But something about his stillness made her pause. She felt his gaze, though she couldn’t see his eyes.

Her body convulsed once, twice, then exploded into dust. Gone. Just like that. The sound that came out of me wasn’t even human. I slapped my hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut, but it didn’t matter. The image burned behind my eyelids—her vanishing mid-step, her clothes disintegrating before they even hit the ground. The Game Master chuckled. “Precision, my dears,” it let out. “Precision is everything.” The next name flickered. “Number 0449.” A man this time. Big, broad-shouldered, maybe in his thirties. He muttered something under his breath and stepped up.

He was past that. The tablet screen had gone dim while we chatted. I tapped it back to life. The man on the gurney came back, frozen mid-spasm. His mouth was half-open, his eyes white. It could have been real. It might have been. I had no way of knowing from a pixelated frame and a file written by people who liked their reality staged. “Who are this poor people?” I asked quietly. “Do you know their names?” Lucia hesitated. It was small, but it was there.

"Thank Ms. Ellison for her kindness on my behalf, but my life isn't meant to clean up after her." I hung up and looked out at the busy traffic below. The collapse of that project had come even faster than I expected. A faint smile spread across my lips.

Could you play the next part of the video and zoom in on the man's face, please? The staff did what I asked. When the picture stopped, I said slowly, "This isn't my dad, Jethro. It's my personal driver, Daniel Chapman."

He didn't even greet, he just asked that. I set my plate down. "A man I've never seen before. I assumed he was one of yours." "Describe him." The sharpness in his voice made me straighten. "Broad. Late thirties. He didn't speak. He just rolled the trolley in and left before I could ask him anything." Nikolai's jaw tightened. Noah had picked up his spoon. He was looking at the plate patiently, with a very hungry four-year-old face, completely unbothered by the tension filling the room.

Then immediately looked nervous. Very nervous. The mysterious man said something. Vanessa shook her head. Hope stepped between them. Arguing. Defending someone. That looked like Hope. Always helping. Always protecting. The footage suddenly glitched. Then skipped forward. Thirty-seven minutes. Everyone stared. "What happened?" Selena whispered. The missing time terrified her. Thirty-seven minutes gone. Completely erased. When the footage resumed— the parking garage was empty. Hope was gone. Vanessa was gone. The man was gone.