When Table Turns Novels & Stories

He rushed up and blocked my path. With a hoarse voice, he pleaded, "I messed up. Please, I can explain." I stayed stone-faced and silent, trying to slip past. He dropped to his knees, which drew the attention of my classmates. They watched curiously and whispered among themselves. My friend, Garth Smith, stepped up. "Need help?" I nodded, glaring at Jake. "I don't know him." Then I started to leave with Garth. Jake panicked, pulling a knife and pressing it to his wrist.

Indifference invites mistakes. “I raise,” I say. Just a little. Avon’s eyes flick to me. Curious now. Webster studies me longer this time, her gaze searching my face instead of the table. They both call. The turn comes down. I scan the board again, slow this time. No pairs. No clean run of numbers. No flood of the same suit. Nothing obvious. The table stays quiet, and I keep myself just as still. By the river, Webster bets again. Avon checks, his pulse ticking faster than his posture suggests.

The others watched closely. In response to his spell, the black surface of the table began to change. Hundreds of dim, tiny white ovals began to appear, seemingly floating within the depths of the glass. As the Necromancer continued his summoning, the shapes grew brighter and clearer. They were not merely ovals of light—they were pairs of eyes, trapped within the table!

Well, I won't hide in the corner and let them think I wanted their pity. Their shadows fell over the table when they stopped at the other side, holding their shiny trays. My fork paused in the air when their throats cleared. All chatter died abruptly, and I knew we were the center of all attention. This should be fun. -

"Carol, we may not have much, but we've given it our all. We want to give you the best. Dreams can't measure up to the love we have for you." "Come on, the frosting's melting. Eat up," urged Nathan, pushing the cake towards me. However, the sweetness on my tongue turned bitter, like sugar-coated poison. I barely managed a bite before setting it aside. "Carol, why did you stop eating? You need sugar to recover from the blood loss after your surgery." The irony was not lost on me. Jasmine had her orchestra, why didn't I have a medical team? My fingernails pressed into my palm, I steadied myself before speaking. "I need to be in a hospital."

"Who are you calling a fraud? You're the one pretending to be daddy's girl!" Pain seared my scalp, and I cried out. James stood by, making no move to stop Lauren. Instead, he fawned over her. "Careful, Ms. Miller, don't hurt yourself." To me, he barked, "Jennifer, apologize now!" Even a worm would turn, and I had never been known for my patience. I twisted a soft spot on her arm, and she yelped, "You witch, how dare you fight back!" The commotion alarmed the staff, and Matteo rushed up. "Lauren? What are you doing here?"

Championship. But I was instantly surprised when EL suddenly turned over the table. I was just stunned with fear. I stared at the table, and slowly turned my gaze at EL. I was intimidated because the aura he was giving me was not good. What will I do? Try to act angry too? This guy is just a brat. Apparently, no one will get mad at him for turning over a table. But nonetheless, he still wasted the food. Did he know that there is a lot of people starving outside?!

They have someone to come home to. *** The round table is a thick slab of scarred wood that doesn't so much as shake when my knife sinks an inch into the marred surface. My knife is the last to go in and means the meeting is brought to order. The men look at me, meeting my eyes, trusting that I can control Beast and be with them on equal ground.

His stomach rebelled just thinking about putting it into his mouth. "What if I don't want what the table wants me to eat?" Murry paused. "I think that's the weirdest sentence anyone has ever said." "You can negotiate with the table." "Okay, that is the weirdest sentence ever." Murry laughed. "Gee, fighting with the dining table sounds like fun." "You can show the table a clear image of what you want, but the table will always work to give you the proper nutrients."

"Let's see who's next." An empty bottle spun across the polished black marble table, its rotation a sharp, grating sound. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the spinning mouth of the bottle. Slowly, it began to wobble to a halt. Finally, the mouth of the bottle wobbled to a stop, pointing directly at Maeve. "Whoa! It landed on our Principessa!" "Truth or Dare?" Maeve giggled, waving a hand adorned with red nail polish, her eyes glassy.