When The Tables Turn Novels & Stories

Jewel Rivers hated nothing more than having to turn back. If she left something behind, she would move on without it. If she took a wrong turn, she kept going. She said, "Turning back is a waste of time. The only way is forward." She even drove right past me without stopping one night after I had worked late. I texted her, "I just saw your car drive by. Can you turn around and pick me up?" Three minutes later, she replied, "Rules are rules. I don't turn back. Take a cab home yourself." - The next day was our eighth anniversary. We had planned to go to the nearby theme park together. Twenty minutes after we set out, my close friend, Jason Smith, sent a message in the group chat

Shania and I decided on Samuel Turner, a marketing manager at Shania's company. Samuel was younger than Lucille and about six years younger than me. I had gotten to know him through a random dinner event in the past. I had formed a deep impression of him because of his good looks and how smart he was at handling all sorts of situations. Later on, I got to know from Shania that he was also very competent at work. He had managed to get his position as marketing manager within a year of joining the company.

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.

The deepest wall of the blood archive opened like a mouth trying to remember language. Behind it was not another chamber. It was a dinner. Jack felt the shape before he saw it and hated the Hand for its sense of theater. A table. Again. Always a table. The first humiliation, the first contract, the first review, the first lock. Power loved tables because tables made hunger look civilized. This one was set for twelve. At each place sat a god-file that had not yet received alternative review.

I met his gaze and for the first time that night we were about to turn the tables and whoever was behind this was about to make a mistake. I smiled

Still, it was damaged, and I’d no doubt have to replace it. “Everything’s fine,” said Toran. I had knocked over a glass and the spark of power that echoed from my hand shattered the plates. There was a bit of a mess. “Get us another table, if you don’t mind.” Of course the waiter didn’t mind. It was his job, but that was Toran-ever the polite beta. “Yes sir. As you wish.” With a snap of the waiter’s fingers, the table disappeared and another reappeared with newly placed food.

“Do you really think flashing me a smile will make me go easy on you?” “No, I never assumed you’d go easy on me. Pursuing someone often involves a bit of suffering. I get that. I know you’re holding a grudge. But you should remember one thing, the tables always turn.” Blake replied with a low chuckle. His voice was raspy, but Tanya could still hear the smugness in his tone. Tanya was not fazed by his words. “You’re trapped here. How exactly do you think those tables are going to turn?”

Crack… With a single touch, the entire glass table shattered into pieces. Despite not being made of tempered glass, the table shattered as if it were. It had completely disintegrated, with no visible chunks left behind. When Tyr turned his head around, he half-heartedly smiled at Marcus. His voice sounded very calm as he said, “If you kneel on the ground and beg me, I’ll save you!”

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. -

she said, and her hands found the edge of the tablecloth, fingers closing around it, knuckles whitening, "we are." None of us saw it coming. Or maybe part of us did, and we just didn't move fast enough. In one single, explosive motion — the kind that comes from somewhere beyond decision, from a place that is all feeling and no thought — she turned the table. The crash was enormous.