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GENRES: All

  I don't own the images I use for my stories. They're all from Pinterests.



Also, please take note. The stories I will be posting here were all inspired by boredom, so don't expect them to be perfect. I would appreciate your thoughts, however. Many thanks. Giggles

For my first story...

"Have mercy, Father, because I have sinned. I have done many terrible things that I am not proud of, and I deeply regret them." These were my exact words as I knelt outside the confessional.

  For someone who was not a Christian, I didn't think God would answer my prayer. I had never even thought he existed until the previous day...

  "I've wasted many souls," I gulped, contemplating whether telling this man was the right thing to do. "Many souls, and I humbly regret," I said remorsefully, preparing myself to bear whatever came next.

  I wasn't born a killer. In fact, I used to be a very sweet boy. The world had turned me cold, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. The outside world was not as it appeared. I was at the mercy of whatever I could find on the streets until a man picked me up. He appeared good at the time, and I thought I had found my savior. But he wasn't my saving grace. He was the antithesis of what a Samaritan could be called—a monster disguised as a sheep. His heart was cold, very cold, and full of darkness. He was merciless, a sworn partner of the underworld prince who tortured people for fun. Men. Women. And even children who knew nothing. These were all people who had committed no crimes that warranted the death penalty. I tried to flee several times, but he always managed to reclaim me. He was a madman; a demented beast who spent his days sawing people in half. I soon became a part of his activities, abducting people and using them as we pleased. We gave each of our victims a slow, painful death, ensuring that they suffered before entering the great beyond. We were highly possessed. It was how mad we were, and how delusional. Not a single person could tell what we did. Even the cops could not identify us. We appeared charming in society, but were ruthless in our blood. One could liken us to beasts. Manslaughterers—and even organ harvesters. The latter was also part of the job. We sold every organ we claimed and profited handsomely, but we could not brag about our wealth because of the horrible life we lived—

  I didn't know when my tears dropped; I'd finished recounting my ordeal. I bet the Reverend was surprised. My confession must have shaken him to the core. A heavy load was lifted off of me, and I felt a sense of inner peace. At the very least, I was going to pay for my sins, comforted by the knowledge that I had told the world what I had done. I was prepared to face the law. I didn't want to be a vagabond anymore, so I waited for the cops to come.

  My atrocities were enormous, and I never imagined God would forgive me for shedding innocent blood. Just then, a light shone on me, and I looked intently, completely perplexed. The cries of the restless spirits that followed me everywhere had stopped; they had vanished. I cried bitter tears, hoping for salvation, but I knew there was no escaping this—I was going to pay dearly for my sins.

.
.
.

By the way, I still haven't found the perfect title

.

Bam17:
For my first story...

"Have mercy, Father, because I have sinned. I have done many terrible things that I am not proud of, and I deeply regret them." These were my exact words as I knelt outside the confessional.

  For someone who was not a Christian, I didn't think God would answer my prayer. I had never even thought he existed until the previous day...

  "I've wasted many souls," I gulped, contemplating whether telling this man was the right thing to do. "Many souls, and I humbly regret," I said remorsefully, preparing myself to bear whatever came next.

  I wasn't born a killer. In fact, I used to be a very sweet boy. The world had turned me cold, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. The outside world was not as it appeared. I was at the mercy of whatever I could find on the streets until a man picked me up. He appeared good at the time, and I thought I had found my savior. But he wasn't my saving grace. He was the antithesis of what a Samaritan could be called—a monster disguised as a sheep. His heart was cold, very cold, and full of darkness. He was merciless, a sworn partner of the underworld prince who tortured people for fun. Men. Women. And even children who knew nothing. These were all people who had committed no crimes that warranted the death penalty. I tried to flee several times, but he always managed to reclaim me. He was a madman; a demented beast who spent his days sawing people in half. I soon became a part of his activities, abducting people and using them as we pleased. We gave each of our victims a slow, painful death, ensuring that they suffered before entering the great beyond. We were highly possessed. It was how mad we were, and how delusional. Not a single person could tell what we did. Even the cops could not identify us. We appeared charming in society, but were ruthless in our blood. One could liken us to beasts. Manslaughterers—and even organ harvesters. The latter was also part of the job. We sold every organ we claimed and profited handsomely, but we could not brag about our wealth because of the horrible life we lived—

  I didn't know when my tears dropped; I'd finished recounting my ordeal. I bet the Reverend was surprised. My confession must have shaken him to the core. A heavy load was lifted off of me, and I felt a sense of inner peace. At the very least, I was going to pay for my sins, comforted by the knowledge that I had told the world what I had done. I was prepared to face the law. I didn't want to be a vagabond anymore, so I waited for the cops to come.

  My atrocities were enormous, and I never imagined God would forgive me for shedding innocent blood. Just then, a light shone on me, and I looked intently, completely perplexed. The cries of the restless spirits that followed me everywhere had stopped; they had vanished. I cried bitter tears, hoping for salvation, but I knew there was no escaping this—I was going to pay dearly for my sins.

.
.
.

By the way, I still haven't found the perfect title

For the non-Catholics, this is a confessional

Bam17:
Oh, how could I forget ProjectsCityNG, thank you so much for today. Your advice really went a long way.

Bam17:
Also dedicating this story to silverlinen. He never forgets me. Gosh, I owe you

And, my fans The ghost readers, of course. Can see you guys perfectly well This remarkable piece is also for you.

I dey with you always

Okay, now this is something different

Write more

silverlinen:




I dey with you always

Lolzz. You're not a ghost reader, dear. You're better.

silverlinen:
Okay, now this is something different

Write more

Awwn, I'm glad you love it, B

ProjectsCityNG:

MOM... DAD


The noise coming from the room across jolted me out of my sleep. My parents were at it again, and this time they were not being soft.

  I covered my ears, trying not to hear, and turned to the other side. My brother, J.J., was still fast asleep, which relieved me.

  They were at it for the fourth time this week, which made me sad. When they argued, my mother would yell the loudest and my father would threaten to hurt her. What they always argued about was what I did not know; they fought at every chance they got, and it was painful to watch. I overheard Mom scream. "Hit me! Hit me, you son of a devil!" Just then, JJ awoke. "Kenny," he called me. He rubbed his eyes and asked what was going on. His expression indicated that he was scared, and I felt sorry for him. Poor boy had had a difficult time, and he was too young for it.

  I smiled and rose to my feet. "Oh, dear," I said as I moved toward him. "Go back to sleep. It's nothing, I promise," I tried to persuade him, but he did not believe me, as if he was completely aware.

  "Are Mom and Dad at it again?" The door swung open, prompting us to turn. Angry, teary eyes were directed at us—

  "Mom...?"

  "Pack your belongings. We're leaving!" She gave me no time to speak. She marched forward, grabbing JJ, who let out a yell as she grasped his hand.

  I knew nothing would ever be the same again, and it was the beginning of our problem.

✍✍___BROKEN

The emotions inside me were overwhelming. A mix of heartbreak, betrayal, and anger that I never knew existed. The one person I trusted above all others had shattered my world. Tyler was the love of my life, and I had always believed he was perfect in every way. He was kind, loving, and always there for me. But that all changed when I discovered the truth.

It was a day like any other when I caught them. The sight of Tyler and my best friend, Molly, in a compromising position was too much to bear. She was on top of him, riding him with wild abandon. He was screaming in ecstasy, and I was screaming in agony. The stairs of the apartment seemed to creak louder with each step I took as I ran away from the scene.

The tears flowed freely from my eyes, and my heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. Molly, someone I had trusted like a sister, had betrayed me in the worst possible way. I couldn't believe that she had done this to me. I doubted if I could ever forgive her.

The pain was too much to bear. Tyler's love had turned out to be a lie, and my heart was shattered into a million pieces. I was left with nothing but a deep sense of loss and betrayal. It was a moment that would change my life forever.

.

MAC

The events of that fateful night were still vivid in my mind; it was a cold and dark night, and my heart was racing as I waited for my sister Helga to arrive. We had planned to talk about some family matters that had been bothering her for a while. Little did I know that the conversation would take an unexpected turn.

As Helga walked into the room, I could sense that something was off. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her voice was shaky as she spoke. She didn’t beat around the bush and went straight to the point. She had found out about my affair with her husband, Mac, and she was devastated. My heart sank as I realized the gravity of the situation.

My sister’s screams filled the air as she threw accusations at me and slammed the door in my face. The sound of the door closing behind her was like a final nail in the coffin, sealing our fate forever. I felt numb and couldn’t think straight. My mind was filled with regret and guilt, and I knew I had done something unforgivable.

The affair with Mac had been going on for five years, and I had managed to keep it a secret from everyone, especially my sister. I was ashamed of my actions and wished I could turn back time and make different choices. But it was too late, and the damage had been done.

Mac had always been greedy and manipulative, and he had taken advantage of my vulnerability. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. Now, I was left with the consequences of my actions, and there was no going back.

The thought of my sister’s pain and disappointment still weighs heavily on me. I can only hope that one day, she can find it in her heart to forgive me for my betrayal. Until then, I will live with the regret and guilt of my actions and hope that I can make amends in some way.

LINDA'S DOLL

Linda was a timid seven-year-old girl who owned a ragdoll that was unlike any other. The doll could sing and talk like a human, which fascinated Linda, but it also made her uneasy with its constant giggles and cackles. She tried to show her mother the doll's remarkable abilities, but her mother was always too busy to pay attention.

One day, Linda decided to get rid of the doll that had become a source of fear for her. She dumped it in a garbage can outside and went back to her room to color. She hummed as she worked, but her peace was soon interrupted by a voice that said, "Raggie."

Linda froze and looked around, but there was no one in the room except for her teddy bears. She tried to ignore the voice and continued coloring, but the voice persisted, and she heard it again, "You dumped Raggie, Linda. Why?"

Linda's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that the voice was coming from under her bed. She got up from her little chair and made her way to the bed, crawling on all fours. She peered under the bed, but there was nothing there. The voice kept repeating, "You dumped Raggie, Linda. Why?" Linda was frightened and didn't know what to do. The voice sounded eerily like her doll's.

Bam17:
Dedicating this to God first of all, and then to my awesome friend, Xavier5. Dude has always been there for me. I love you big time!

Peace offering accepted. Now let me go and read 😌🙃


#Xavier

Bam17:
LINDA'S DOLL

Linda was a timid seven-year-old girl who owned a ragdoll that was unlike any other. The doll could sing and talk like a human, which fascinated Linda, but it also made her uneasy with its constant giggles and cackles. She tried to show her mother the doll's remarkable abilities, but her mother was always too busy to pay attention.

One day, Linda decided to get rid of the doll that had become a source of fear for her. She dumped it in a garbage can outside and went back to her room to color. She hummed as she worked, but her peace was soon interrupted by a voice that said, "Raggie."

Linda froze and looked around, but there was no one in the room except for her teddy bears. She tried to ignore the voice and continued coloring, but the voice persisted, and she heard it again, "You dumped Raggie, Linda. Why?"

Linda's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that the voice was coming from under her bed. She got up from her little chair and made her way to the bed, crawling on all fours. She peered under the bed, but there was nothing there. The voice kept repeating, "You dumped Raggie, Linda. Why?" Linda was frightened and didn't know what to do. The voice sounded eerily like her doll's.

Giving me the Annabelle, Chucky and Imaginary vibe 😏.

Beautiful stories you have going, but I don't know if it's just me, the stories seem incomplete. We deserve closures on them 🙃.

Amazing stories btw 🙌.



#Xavier

I'm enjoying stories... Is there a way you can compressed all to PDF series by series. Then sell.

Bam17:
LINDA'S DOLL

Linda was a timid seven-year-old girl who owned a ragdoll that was unlike any other. The doll could sing and talk like a human, which fascinated Linda, but it also made her uneasy with its constant giggles and cackles. She tried to show her mother the doll's remarkable abilities, but her mother was always too busy to pay attention.

One day, Linda decided to get rid of the doll that had become a source of fear for her. She dumped it in a garbage can outside and went back to her room to color. She hummed as she worked, but her peace was soon interrupted by a voice that said, "Raggie."

Linda froze and looked around, but there was no one in the room except for her teddy bears. She tried to ignore the voice and continued coloring, but the voice persisted, and she heard it again, "You dumped Raggie, Linda. Why?"

Linda's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that the voice was coming from under her bed. She got up from her little chair and made her way to the bed, crawling on all fours. She peered under the bed, but there was nothing there. The voice kept repeating, "You dumped Raggie, Linda. Why?" Linda was frightened and didn't know what to do. The voice sounded eerily like her doll's.

Babbyad:
I'm enjoying stories... Is there a way you can compressed all to PDF series by series. Then sell.

Awwn, thank you. I already compressed them.

Xavier5:


Giving me the Annabelle, Chucky and Imaginary vibe 😏.

Beautiful stories you have going, but I don't know if it's just me, the stories seem incomplete. We deserve closures on them 🙃.

Amazing stories btw 🙌.



#Xavier

Awwn, thank you, dear. Lol. They're just very short stories.

Bam17:
For my first story...

"Have mercy, Father, because I have sinned. I have done many terrible things that I am not proud of, and I deeply regret them." These were my exact words as I knelt outside the confessional.

  For someone who was not a Christian, I didn't think God would answer my prayer. I had never even thought he existed until the previous day...

  "I've wasted many souls," I gulped, contemplating whether telling this man was the right thing to do. "Many souls, and I humbly regret," I said remorsefully, preparing myself to bear whatever came next.

  I wasn't born a killer. In fact, I used to be a very sweet boy. The world had turned me cold, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. The outside world was not as it appeared. I was at the mercy of whatever I could find on the streets until a man picked me up. He appeared good at the time, and I thought I had found my savior. But he wasn't my saving grace. He was the antithesis of what a Samaritan could be called—a monster disguised as a sheep. His heart was cold, very cold, and full of darkness. He was merciless, a sworn partner of the underworld prince who tortured people for fun. Men. Women. And even children who knew nothing. These were all people who had committed no crimes that warranted the death penalty. I tried to flee several times, but he always managed to reclaim me. He was a madman; a demented beast who spent his days sawing people in half. I soon became a part of his activities, abducting people and using them as we pleased. We gave each of our victims a slow, painful death, ensuring that they suffered before entering the great beyond. We were highly possessed. It was how mad we were, and how delusional. Not a single person could tell what we did. Even the cops could not identify us. We appeared charming in society, but were ruthless in our blood. One could liken us to beasts. Manslaughterers—and even organ harvesters. The latter was also part of the job. We sold every organ we claimed and profited handsomely, but we could not brag about our wealth because of the horrible life we lived—

  I didn't know when my tears dropped; I'd finished recounting my ordeal. I bet the Reverend was surprised. My confession must have shaken him to the core. A heavy load was lifted off of me, and I felt a sense of inner peace. At the very least, I was going to pay for my sins, comforted by the knowledge that I had told the world what I had done. I was prepared to face the law. I didn't want to be a vagabond anymore, so I waited for the cops to come.

  My atrocities were enormous, and I never imagined God would forgive me for shedding innocent blood. Just then, a light shone on me, and I looked intently, completely perplexed. The cries of the restless spirits that followed me everywhere had stopped; they had vanished. I cried bitter tears, hoping for salvation, but I knew there was no escaping this—I was going to pay dearly for my sins.

.
.
.

By the way, I still haven't found the perfect title

Xavier5, have you read this one?

Xavier5:


Peace offering accepted. Now let me go and read 😌🙃


#Xavier

Lolzzzzz. U ehh

silverlinen:
Okay, now this is something different

Write more

Awwn, thank you, dear. Do you still have my WhatsApp no?

AVERY AND THE BUTTERFLY

  Avery loves butterflies. She enjoys playing with them. One day, she befriends one. "A talking butterfly?" she exclaimed, shocked.

  "Hi. My name is Jasmine," the butterfly said.

  "You talk?" Avery asked, surprised. She had her hands over her mouth; she had never seen a talking butterfly before. It had rainbow wings and was stunning.

  " Mommy..." Avery tried to call but was stopped by the butterfly.

  "Don't be scared," it said quietly, and Avery remained calm. The butterfly looked not so scary anymore, except for the fact it was talking. She had never seen a talking butterfly before, and she was eager to learn more. " What's your name?" the butterfly asked.

  Avery became afraid once more. "I can't tell you," she said, not wanting to give the butterfly her name.

  "Don't be scared," Jasmine laughed. " I won't hurt you." she promised.

  Avery took a breath and thought about it. "Avery," she finally replied. " I'm Avery," she said calmly.

  The butterfly giggled and said, "Nice to meet you, Avery. Let's be friends," she said to her.

  Avery was unsure whether she wanted to be friends with a talking butterfly. It appeared odd. "I'm not sure," she said, squeezing her face. "Well..."

  "I do not have any friends, Avery," the butterfly interrupted before she could say anything else. "I don't have any friends," it said coyly. "Please be my friend," it begged the little girl to accept her request.

  Avery smiled and nodded her head in agreement. "Okay. I will be your friend," she decided.

  Jasmine and Avery became best friends, and they remained so for as long as the world existed.

ELAINE

Elaine lived on the top shelf of Mrs Wineberry's home. She loved looking at her from where she hung, and how she would come into her study room and pull out a book. The lovely lady loved to read. She loved every book and would sit for hours, reading until she was tired. Elaine admired her so much and wished she could read like her. I wonder what is in those books, she thought to herself. She would lower herself and peek at every page Mrs Wineberry turned. They had a lot of pictures. Beautiful pictures, and they appeared to be very nice. Elaine would listen to Mrs Wineberry read out loud, as if she were telling someone the stories. The young woman was alone with her books, which made Elaine sad. The poor creature wished she could talk to her because her loneliness bothered her. "If only I could talk to Mrs Wineberry," she sighed, as a flicker of light caught her attention. "Ouch. That's very bright!" She groaned.

"Looks like someone needs my help."

The small spider shivered on her web.

"No, don't be scared," the voice said calmly. "You do not have to be, little one," a small lady appeared. She had sparkly wings and wore a matching gown, as well as a petite red pump shoe that matched her outfit, and she carried a wand.

"What are you?" Elaine observed her.

The little woman replied, "Not what. It's who?" She corrected Elaine.

Elaine gasped, realizing the woman could understand her. "No one has ever understood me," she said, intrigued.

"Well, I do now," the woman said, laughing.

Elaine could only stare, completely surprised.

"I've seen how you've cared for the young widow," the little lady continued.

"What's a widow?" inquired the innocent Elaine.

"Oh, you are too young to know," the woman replied.

"But I am not young," Elaine begged her visitor to explain what she meant. "Please tell me,"

But the woman declined. "My, look at the time," she said, switching quickly. "Now, be quiet. We don't have much time," she hurriedly said. "By the way, my name is Griselda," she finally introduced herself.

Elaine forgot about the 'widow' term and moved right on the shelf, expressing her delight. "Nice to meet you, Griselda," she said with a smile.

Griselda smiled and waved her wand as Elaine watched, and it wasn't long before the spider grew twelve times her size and the shelf could not hold her.

"Whoa!" Elaine exclaimed in surprise.

"Oops. That wasn't supposed to happen," Griselda said, placing her right hand over her lips.

"Well, yeah?" Elaine let out an excited yell.

Griselda was about to flick her wand again when the doorknob to the study room turned with a click.

"Someone is coming," Elaine said, but Griselda was nowhere to be found.

The enormous spider was left in the room once more, as a tired Mrs Wineberry entered.

"Hi, Mrs. Wineberry,"

The terrified woman let out a loud yell when she saw the monstrous spider.

"Please, Ma'am. Don't be scared. Please don't yell. I won't hurt you," Elaine begged, feeling scared as well. She tried to calm her down by moving closer to her, but Mrs Wineberry fled for her life.

"A talking spider! A talking spider...!" Elaine could hear her yelling. The poor spider was devastated to learn that she had scared the young widow, and she searched for the little lady, but she was nowhere to be found.

"If only I had not made that wish," Elaine sighed in deep regret. All she wanted was to keep Mrs Wineberry company without scaring her away.

Torn with pain, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks at the realization she would remain a giant spider, she scurried away, hating herself and wishing she had just kept to herself.

ANASTASIA

'Ana darling, hurry up, or we will be late,' Sebastian called from the foot of the stairs, patiently waiting for his wife to descend. He could tell from where he stood that his wife had not finished. Climbing the stairs, eyes fixed on his wristwatch, he made his way towards her room, hoping to hurry her up. 'Come on, darling. Haven't you had enough makeup on?'

Anastasia laughed and turned. 'Not quite.'

'I've told Elizabeth to look after the kids,' he said next.

'Speaking of,' Anastasia got up from the chair and approached him. 'The children,' she said. 'Where are they?' She peered down the hallway, but it was empty.

'You don't need to worry, darling,' Sebastian assured her. 'They're outside.'

'Outside?' Anastasia let out a loud gasp.

'You worry too much,' Sebastian looked at her and smiled.

Anastasia inhaled briefly before turning to take one last look in the mirror. 'I think I'm done,' she exhaled.

Sebastian inquired with pleasure. 'You are?'

Anastasia turned to him with a slight nod. She smiled once more as her husband extended his hand toward her.

"Do you think the kids are going to be okay?"

Sebastian breathed out a long sigh. 'Again with the kids?'

Anastasia chuckled. 'Okay, fine. I won't worry about the kids...'

Sebastian led her out.

Anastasia and Sebastian had been married for a long time. They had two beautiful children. Alexa and Henrietta. They had their mother's beautiful chestnut brown eyes, which matched their long hair. Their mother would often refer to them as the treasures that God had bestowed upon her and her world. They meant everything to her.

Anastasia had lost her parents when she was nine years old. Her parents, along with her baby sister, had died in a car accident. She was unable to tell anyone how she had survived. They had found her beneath the car wreck, struggling and longing to be free. She had since then lived with her Mom's older sister. Aunt Beatrice had taken her as hers and ensured she raised her to any level of her choice. Anastasia was well-educated and taught the proper things, and she was never without love. She received both warmth and affection from the hands of Aunt Beatrice and her dearest husband. Uncle Vernon treated her as if she were his own, loving and caring for her in the same way that any father would. He made certain that the poor girl had everything she needed and was always available to lend a helping hand.

Anastasia's life was going well until aunt Beatrice became ill and died. She had died from cancer. "Cervical cancer," she remembered hearing Uncle Vernon tell his friend.

'Cervical cancer?' She stood stunned, knowing exactly what it was and how bad it could get. She looked over to Aunt Beatrice and felt sorry for her. The poor woman was in pain, and she wished she could bear half of it. It was a horrible day for her. She was only eighteen years old. Uncle Vernon had refused to tell her what was wrong, unaware she already knew.

'You should eat,' he said with a weary smile.

Anastasia could see the pain hidden behind his weak smile, and she knew Aunt Beatrice was far gone. She'll never recover, she reasoned to herself, having given up hope. And then her fear became a reality: Aunt Beatrice had passed away.

Sebastian happened to be passing by when Anastasia was crying on the porch. Aunt Beatrice had died a few days before, and Uncle Vernon had fallen ill almost immediately, scaring Anastasia to death. She could not stop crying when she realized her dear uncle was ill, terrified of losing yet another person who meant everything to her.

'You're crying,'

Anastasia raised her head upon hearing the calm voice. 'Well, what does it look like I'm doing?' She wanted to rebuke him, but her tears kept flowing, preventing her from speaking.

'What's wrong?'

She had no idea why this stranger seemed to be so interested in her, unaware that he would become such an important part of her life.

'I'm not crying,' she sniffed and wiped away her tears, fed up with him poke nosing.

'But you are...'

'I said I'm not crying!' She shot back at him. The kind stranger refused to leave her alone, and sat down beside her.

'Well, you should know that whatever it is you are going through, it will all be fine. I assure you.' He spoke as if he had known her for a long time, which astounded her.

'Why are you being nice to me?' Anastasia looked at him in surprise, having dried her tears.

'Well...'

Anastasia placed her hand on his, halting him. 'Thank you,' she said to him, feeling slightly better.

From that point on, the two became friends, and Anastasia quickly roared back to life. Sebastian would always come to see her and tell her stories he made up. He was quite the lad. Talented. Artistic. Handsome. Loving. Anastasia had grown to love him, and they had grown fond of each other, with Anastasia learning a lot from him.

Sebastian was well-built, like a god. He was her god, and she fell deeply in love with him. Her love for him grew stronger as they spent more time together. She could not help but notice everything about him-everything that defined him. Her feelings for him were strong, and she hoped he loved her as much as she did.

'Marry me,' Sebastian said one day.

'Wait. Are you serious?' Anastasia laughed, unable to believe what she had just heard.

'Yes, marry me,' Sebastian knelt before her, pulling his thumb and index finger into the shape of a ring.

'N-no. No, Sebastian,' Anastasia pulled away, unsure whether she wanted to marry him so soon.

Sebastian pressed harder, hoping that she would say yes. 'Please say yes,' he pleaded with her, unwilling to give up. 'Even if I do not have a ring,' he teased.

'But, Sebastian...'

"I love you, Anastasia," Sebastian interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. 'I love you very much,' he said, continuing to kneel.

Anastasia was at a loss for words and could only stare, unsure which step to take.

'Please...'

'I-I can't,' Anastasia stuttered and started to walk away.

'Please, Anastasia Williams,' He addressed her name in full.

The young woman looked lovingly at him, unsure whether she should refuse. 'But, Sebastian, we're still young,' she reminded him, hoping to persuade him to reconsider.

"We're 20, Anastasia," Sebastian replied quickly. 'Just say yes,' he begged her once more. 'And I promise to give you the world,' he added with a charming smile.

'But...'

'Do you trust me?' Sebastian looked up at her, eager to know.

'Yes,' Anastasia breathed out. 'Yes, I trust you,'

Sebastian grinned. 'Good. Now, say yes,' he pleaded with her one last time, hoping this was it. 'Or is this about not having a ring?' He frowned, hurt.

'It's not about the ring, Sebastian.' Anastasia sighed, upset by his words. She then gave a hearty smile. 'It is not about the ring, believe me,' she said sweetly, looking down at him and peering into his eyes.

'So, what do you say?' Sebastian inquired, eagerly awaiting her response.

'I love you!' Anastasia exclaimed, making him jump with excitement. 'And I will marry you,' she said ravishingly, making do with his invisible ring.

That day marked the beginning of something new-a love story no one could have imagined would exist. Anastasia and Sebastian married not long after, and Uncle Vernon gave them his blessings despite being glued to his bed. 'Your parents and aunt would be very proud of you,' he said through tears, kissing the back of Anastasia's hand. He blessed them both, and Anastasia could not help but shed tears. Joyful tears.

Anastasia smiled heartily as she reflected on the past and how she had met her guardian angel, feeling at ease and experiencing a completely new sensation.

'Worry less now.'

She turned her attention to the source of the voice. It was the man whom God had blessed her with. Her peace and comforter. He had come just when she needed him the most, and she was grateful. She nodded and smiled charmingly at him, wiping away the tears that had already fallen from her tear glands.

'Don't cry anymore, my love,' he said, reaching to wipe away her tears.

'I love you, Sebastian,' Anastasia declared aloud. 'I love you very much.' She sank into his arms with a content smile.

UNSEEN

They said that if you wanted to read a book that had not yet been written, you should write it. I kept thinking about the one I wanted to read, but I could not find it anywhere. Of course, it had never been written before because I had never shared my story.

Growing up, I shared a hut with my aunt Rachael and grandmother Priscilla deep in the forest. We were hunters and had the wild animals at our disposal, feasting on anything we could find. I knew nothing about civilization and had spent nearly a millennium behind. My people and I practiced witchcraft. It was what sustained and kept us young. We never grew older as time passed. It was a gift bestowed by the forest spirits in exchange for our protection. They were our friends, so we kept mortals away from them. Being immortal was an irresistible gift, and we were delighted to serve the forest spirits in return. They provided us with everything we needed to survive. But I knew we could not avoid death any longer than we had. All we had to do was obey the spirits' commands and worship them while we were young. Keeping them hidden was one of the numerous bids. No one could see them or the place they lived unless they had the assistance of the dead. The outside world contained treacherous and selfish beings—unkind humans who desired the most valuable things for themselves. Grandma despised them and forbade us from living in their midst. But I could swear Aunt Rachael had a good sense of their world, watching her sneak out in the middle of the night every day and closely following her.

"What are you doing here?" She had caught me on one of those special nights.

"Erm... erm." My words seemed to be stuck. I was stunned to learn that I had been seen, and I could not come up with a better explanation.

"Speak!" She commanded me to speak. Her thunderous voice made me tremble, and I could not say anything.

I dreaded obeying her command, scolding myself while also regretting my decision to follow her. I was this close to knowing what the outside world looked like, despite being fully aware of the veil that prevented me from passing.

"You haven't said anything to grandma, have you?" She moved closer to me and asked, "Have you?" She lowered her voice, and I shook my head, remaining silent. "Good. "Now follow me," she said, surprising me, and yelled, "Hurry up, will you?" She had an angry expression on her face, indicating her displeasure with my sluggishness. Taking my hand, she led me to what appeared to be a tree. At first glance, it appeared to be a red mahogany tree, but up close, it wasn't. It had no description and was devoid of shape.

"An illusion," Aunt Rachael's voice enveloped my thoughts.

"An illusion?" I watched as she extended her hand toward the shapeless, most perplexing thing I had ever seen, and a bright light appeared, illuminating our faces.

"We're here," Aunt Rachael said to me. "The outside world, Hilda," she said in the most straightforward tone. "Welcome."

It looked stunning and even better than I had imagined. I admired the view, and seeing so many people walk past us as if we weren't there captivated me. "Can they...?"

Aunt Rachael responded quickly before I could finish asking my question. "No." She knew exactly what I was thinking. "Promise not to say anything to grandma," she had me promise her before we left.

I knew how badly Grandma would react if she found out we had gone to the outside world, so I promised not to tell her anything, gaining Aunt Rachael's trust.

"Good," She smiled broadly in appreciation of my assurance. Aunt Rachael rubbed my cheek and requested that I wait for her. "I will be back," she hurried off before I could ask her any more questions.

"You seem a little unsettled," a voice said to me by the corner, making me shriek. "Do not worry, I won't tell," the caller said, surprising me.

"Tell who exactly what?" I turned to face him, having no idea what he was on about. He could see me so well that I gasped. "Wait. You can see me?" I inquired, wondering how it was possible.

"I mean, yeah," he shrugged and laughed, holding out his hand to me.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked inquisitively, unsure what to do next.

"Oh, you shake it," he smiled, before introducing himself as "Lucas."

"Lucas?" I returned the smile and shook his hand.

"See. Easy," he said, his excitement palpable. "What's your name?"

I didn't know whether I should tell him or not say anything.

"It's okay,"

"Hilda," I finally told him my name.

"Hilda?" He gave a comforting smile. "That's a beautiful name," he added. The way he spoke made me blush, but I tried to act tough, not wanting his charm to affect me. "You're unlike any human I've ever seen," he said, as if he sensed something odd. "Your secret is safe with me. Trust me."

I held my breath, curious if he knew who I was. And how did he manage to see me?

"What secret?" I acted dumb. "I mean, I have no secret," I attempted to persuade him.

"Well, if you say so," he replied, moving his shoulders in amusing ways.

Aunt Rachael had still not returned, so I was stuck with the strange human. He appeared to be in a good mood and was very friendly. He was tall, blonde, and had true sapphire eyes that burned whenever he spoke.

"You have really cute eyes," I complimented him, not thinking clearly. We had found a quiet place and were already seated.

"Oh, thank you," he replied shyly, complimenting me. "Yours are cute, too," he said with an accent. He brought out a part of me that I had long suppressed—a part that made me feel things I shouldn't, and I seemed to enjoy it. "I want to know more things about you." 

My joyous expression turned into a frown.

"I-I mean, if that's okay with you," he stammered, fearing he had crossed the line.

I arched my brows at him and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen behind my left ear. "Well, you know my name," I knew my response was lame.

"But that's not enough," he said, as if pleading for me to be open with him.

"Well, you would still get to know me," I said, forcing a smile and avoiding his gaze.

"Say what," Lucas rose to his feet and extended his hand.

"What?" I asked.

"Why don't you come with me? "That is, to my home," he explained.

"A-are you sure?" I paused for a moment, unsure whether going with him was the best idea. "I mean, I barely even know you," I said, unimpressed by his offer. Aunt Rachael was still nowhere in sight. "I don't really know..."

He halted me and pulled me up until I was fully on my feet. "Please," he begged me, unwilling to give up until I agreed.

"Well, if you insist," I sighed, still not entirely comfortable with the idea. "But promise me we won't stay long," I made him promise before I fully agreed.

"I promise." He nodded and pulled me along with him.

"Are you always this nice to strangers?"

He whistled as we walked along.

"Well, are you?" I thought he hadn't heard me the first time, so I had to ask again. "Lucas!" I tried to get him to stop whistling and pay attention.

He whistled incessantly without saying anything, and his unexpected behavior made me uncomfortable. "Can you hear me, Lucas?" I tried calling him again, and this time he stopped and turned to face me. "You must be a fool to think I would be so kind to you," his sapphire eyes widened into bulging, fiery red eyes.

"Lucas—" but the sweet, gentle boy I had met was no more. Only a beast! "What in the world...?" I stared at the massive five-headed creature in front of me. It let out a thunderous laugh and snorted like the beast it was. "Seriously?" I had no idea when I let out a loud laugh. It actually thought it could scare me. "Like, really?" I couldn't stop laughing about how ridiculous it looked.

"Hmm. Acting tough, I see," one of its heads said, moving towards me and looking directly into my eyes.

"Not at all," I said confidently, unshaken. "The fact that you think your ridiculous form is frightening to me makes me laugh even more." A mere mortal caught my attention, and her presence briefly distracted me. She was completely unaware of what was going on in the unseen realm, humming happily as she walked past us. "So, let me guess, you are a shape shifter?" I stopped staring at her and focused on the hideous creature.

"Yes," it replied, transforming back into the boy I knew.

"Dang."

He asked, "What?"

I gave my shoulder a slight shrug and shook my head in disgust. "And here I was falling blindly for you," I said, no longer mesmerized by his appearance.

"Wait. Wait. Rewind," I told the shape shifter, but he would not let me say what I was thinking.

"How in the world were you not frightened by that?" He referred to the hideous creature he had transformed into.

"You mean the ridiculous cerbea you were trying to scare me with?" I laughed so hard. I had seen enough for the day and concluded that the outside world was not as interesting as I had imagined. "I'm going..."

"Wait. To where? Why...?"

"Nowhere that concerns you," I said before he asked more questions and made me angrier than I already was. I managed to find my way back to where Aunt Rachael and I had appeared. Aunt Rachael was already there, standing akimbo with bulging eyes. "Where have you been?" She asked where I had gone, rolling her eyes at me. "I bring you into the outside world, and this is how you thank me?"

I gave a sigh and tried to calm her down. "I'm fine, aunt. "Let's just go," I said tiredly, bringing her to a stop.

"Are you alright?"

I responded briefly. "Yes."

"Well, let us go," she said, taking my hand again and stretching hers as she had before.

"Finally," I was relieved to know we were returning home. I promised myself I was never going to leave the forest again.

"Remember, not a word," Aunt Rachael told me once we returned to the forest. "Not even..." she motioned with her fingers to her lips, indicating that I should remain silent.

We arrived at our hut and found Grandmama still sleeping. She had no idea we had been gone for what seemed like hours. It came as a relief. I told Aunt Rachael goodnight and went to bed. Although I was relieved to have seen the outside world, I was still disappointed that my meeting with a strange boy had turned out to be quite the opposite of what I had hoped for—an encounter I never mentioned to anyone.