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No More Second Chances

No More Second Chances

Gavin

5.0
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11
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The day I was finally supposed to marry Maria, the woman I' d loved for sixty years across two lifetimes, she died. Or so they told me. I stood at the altar, waiting, while the Texas sun beat down on the small chapel. Then her mother stumbled through the doors, face a mess of tears. "Matthew," she wailed, "There's been an accident. A terrible accident." "She's gone," her father choked out. My world tilted. How could she be gone? We'd loved until we were old and gray in our past life, then woke up young again, a gift. Now, it felt like a curse. A week after the funeral, my best friend Andrew told me someone saw Maria's twin celebrating. "She didn't look like Sylvia," he murmured. "She looked exactly like Maria." My hands stopped. Cold dread crept up my spine. I drove to the Chavez house, heart pounding. It was a party. An engagement party. And there, draped over my rival Wesley Fowler, was her. Maria. My Maria. The woman I had buried. She was laughing, looking radiant, vibrant, and very much alive. "Maria?" I choked out. She saw me, a flicker of shock in her eyes, then it vanished. "Do I know you?" she asked, her voice smooth, unfamiliar. "I'm Sylvia." The lie was so blatant, so shameless, it knocked the wind out of me. The crowd whispered, pity turning to suspicion. "You're lying," I whispered, reaching for her. "You're Maria." She flinched. "You're scaring me!" she cried, hiding behind Wesley. "Make him leave!" The whole town stared. I was the deranged, grieving fiancé. Wesley smirked. This was a setup. I had walked right into it. That night, Wesley came to my house. He told me Maria remembered our last life, too. Remembered the poverty. She chose him for his money. "And there's something else you should know," he added, his smile turning cruel. "The baby. Your first kid, in the last life. He wasn't yours, Matt. He was mine." My world shattered. Sixty years of love, history, our son – all a lie. The foundation of my entire existence collapsed. How could she do this? How could she choose this life, this man, and lie about everything, including our child? It was an unbearable betrayal. I was nothing. But in my despair, I found my grandfather' s Medal of Honor. With it, a letter: "If you ever find yourself lost, son, find General Duncan. He'll know what to do." I looked at the world that had betrayed me. I wasn' t going to rot here. I drove north, seeking a new beginning, a new path fueled by honor, not revenge. My old life was dead. It was time to build a new one.

Introduction

The day I was finally supposed to marry Maria, the woman I' d loved for sixty years across two lifetimes, she died. Or so they told me.

I stood at the altar, waiting, while the Texas sun beat down on the small chapel.

Then her mother stumbled through the doors, face a mess of tears. "Matthew," she wailed, "There's been an accident. A terrible accident."

"She's gone," her father choked out. My world tilted. How could she be gone? We'd loved until we were old and gray in our past life, then woke up young again, a gift. Now, it felt like a curse.

A week after the funeral, my best friend Andrew told me someone saw Maria's twin celebrating. "She didn't look like Sylvia," he murmured. "She looked exactly like Maria."

My hands stopped. Cold dread crept up my spine.

I drove to the Chavez house, heart pounding. It was a party. An engagement party.

And there, draped over my rival Wesley Fowler, was her.

Maria. My Maria. The woman I had buried. She was laughing, looking radiant, vibrant, and very much alive.

"Maria?" I choked out. She saw me, a flicker of shock in her eyes, then it vanished.

"Do I know you?" she asked, her voice smooth, unfamiliar. "I'm Sylvia."

The lie was so blatant, so shameless, it knocked the wind out of me. The crowd whispered, pity turning to suspicion.

"You're lying," I whispered, reaching for her. "You're Maria."

She flinched. "You're scaring me!" she cried, hiding behind Wesley. "Make him leave!"

The whole town stared. I was the deranged, grieving fiancé. Wesley smirked. This was a setup. I had walked right into it.

That night, Wesley came to my house. He told me Maria remembered our last life, too. Remembered the poverty. She chose him for his money.

"And there's something else you should know," he added, his smile turning cruel. "The baby. Your first kid, in the last life. He wasn't yours, Matt. He was mine."

My world shattered. Sixty years of love, history, our son – all a lie. The foundation of my entire existence collapsed.

How could she do this? How could she choose this life, this man, and lie about everything, including our child? It was an unbearable betrayal.

I was nothing. But in my despair, I found my grandfather' s Medal of Honor. With it, a letter: "If you ever find yourself lost, son, find General Duncan. He'll know what to do."

I looked at the world that had betrayed me. I wasn' t going to rot here. I drove north, seeking a new beginning, a new path fueled by honor, not revenge. My old life was dead. It was time to build a new one.

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The Pentagon's Fury

The Pentagon's Fury

Short stories

5.0

My life was perfect. I had a loving husband, Andrew, and our bright, energetic five-year-old son, Caleb. We lived happily in Chicago, a normal American family. Then, in a screech of tires and a thunderous crash, a low-slung, obscenely yellow Lamborghini, driven by rich kid Barney Hughes, stole them from me. One moment they were alive, the next, crumpled on the asphalt. But the nightmare didn' t end there. Barney' s father, a powerful real estate magnate, bought off the police, made surveillance footage vanish, and had my family' s bodies illegally cremated. Every lawyer I approached laughed me out of their office, warning of "professional suicide" against the Hughes empire. I lost my job, and then Barney sued me for harassment. My world crumbled. One night, Barney and his thugs broke into my home, beat me mercilessly, shattered every photo of my family, then committed the ultimate desecration: they opened the box of ashes, the stolen remains of my husband and son, and dumped them over my head. "Buy yourself a new kid or something. Get over it," he sneered, before urinating on the floor beside me. How could this happen in America? How could a family of heroes, dedicated to service, be murdered and then have their memory so brutally insulted by a corrupt system? Lying broken on the floor, covered in dust and urine, I suddenly remembered two Medal of Honor recipients and an old promise: "The United States Army does not forget its own." I packed the medals and made a silent vow. My fight had just begun.

Whispers of the Delta: A Ghostly Comeback

Whispers of the Delta: A Ghostly Comeback

Short stories

5.0

It was my wedding night in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, the air thick with the hum of my guitar and the sweet promise of a new life with Jennifer. Everyone called me a prodigy, especially when I poured my essence into the "Soul Chord," a gift that felt like pure magic flowing through my fingers. Then, the juke joint doors burst open, and a biker gang stormed in, dragging me off stage. They held me down, and their leader, with a ball-peen hammer, systematically crushed the bones in my left hand, the one that played my Soul Chord. Through a haze of blinding pain, I saw Jennifer, shielding Caleb, watching without a word, her eyes cold and distant. Later, in the clinic, drugged but awake, I heard their whispers: Jennifer, Sabrina, and Caleb. They had planned it all, drugged me, orchestrated the attack to steal my music for Caleb' s album. My deepest secret, a dormant Soul Chord in my right hand, was brought up. And then, Jennifer quietly, methodically, severed the tendons in my right wrist, destroying my last hope, my last chance to play. They framed me as a violent gang affiliate, spread lies, and announced Jennifer and Caleb' s engagement, built on my ruin. My own adopted mother, Sabrina, then ordered my legs broken, leaving me a helpless, shattered mess. Thrown into a swamp to die, betrayed by everyone I loved, a cold rage ignited in me. They destroyed my body, my spirit, my life, but they made one fatal mistake: they left me breathing. Now, all that pain, all that fury, has become something more. And I' m coming back for every single one of them.

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