Twisted Paths Novels & Stories

The taxi door opened, and a tall, feminine woman stepped out of the car, holding a baby on her shoulder. She heaved a deep breath as she exited, her eyes scanning the surroundings. It was just the way she had left it; nothing seemed to have changed at all. It didn’t look like two years had passed since she had been gone. She walked up to the building.

That explained his frown and why he turned down Sergio's request to escort me to Tobias' house for the interview. The car that had brought me pulled up in front of a large, modern chateau that matched Tobias' aesthetics. It was challenging to read him. From my research, he was extremely private and uptight. The news of his anniversary a few weeks ago had come as a shock to everyone, and within hours, it had vanished as if it were an error. The underground cyber team of the Abyss had that information up their sleeves, making access relatively easy. His wife, Gianna Whitlock. The name sounded familiar—too familiar—but I brushed the thought aside.

A Tumultuous Path Ahead: The swirling vortex of energy enveloped the heroes, pulling them into a disorienting maelstrom of light and sound. As they tumbled through the kaleidoscope of colors, a sense of unease settled in their hearts. This was unlike any challenge they had faced before—the very fabric of time itself seemed to twist and bend around them.

The crescent on my wrist pulsed—a brand carved in another life. Three paths branched ahead: 1. Kudzu-Choked: Dragon’s bike idled in the shadows, spearmint cutting through the rot. 2. Bone-Paved: Crow skeletons crackled underfoot, their hollow eyes fixed on a distant neon cross. 3. Ashen: A figure waited at its end, Stetson tilted, cigarillo glowing. “Choose, piti fi.” A voice oozed from the trees, sweet as poisoned honey. “Left, right, or…” His cane—a femur polished to ivory—tapped the ashen path. “The fun way.”

He was Maa Shaa Allah. May Allah guide him to the right path and make the Quran be useful to him this life and hereafter. I carried Rodiyah who was Taye* and twirled her around, she was giggling showing her gum while Mor'diyyah who was Kehinde* started crying. (Taye - the first among the twins and Kehinde the last). I carried her also, "awww, jealous baby" I cooed at her while she started to giggle, also showing two pearls of milk teeth. "Aww baby, you've poo" I wrinkled my nose.

Twisted I always had fear of death ever since I became aware of the clock birthmark engraved on my left palm. I always hate celebrating my birthday because it always serves as a reminder that I'll die young. My parents told me that among our generations, I am very different because my two clock birthmarks have the same date. Because of too much curiosity, I tried researching and reading stories and blogs that tackle different painful tragedies.