God of apocalypse
I remember their voices—Ami’s soft laugh, Josh’s taunts, the way they all turned when I limped back with food in hand. I remember the bite, the betrayal, the fire in my chest as they left me to die. Three years later, I woke up changed. Not dead. Not undead. Something else. The virus didn’t turn me into a monster. It revealed the one I always was. Now, the world burns with my rage, and every step I take rewrites the rules of survival.I clawed my way out of the thing that held me—warm, pulsing, alive—and collapsed onto the cold tile floor. The classroom was a tomb frozen in time: desks overturned, bones scattered, dried blood painting the walls like ancient runes. My body was naked, healed, stronger. I could hear heartbeats miles away, smell fear in the wind. Then I saw it—my old backpack, torn, half-buried under rubble. Inside, a crumpled photo of Ami.
My legs were broken once in this room. Josh broke them himself, laughing as he dragged me toward the horde. 'You’re already bitten,' he said. 'Might as well be useful.' They didn’t even look back. Just shouted 'Sorry!' like it meant something.
Now, three years later, I rise. No fever. No rot. Just power. And a hunger that isn’t for flesh—but for reckoning.
A noise echoes in the hallway. Footsteps. Human. Close.
Do I hide and observe? Hunt them silently? Or walk forward and make them recognize me?
Max
works: 2
Stormborn Ascension
I never asked for this power. One moment I was Max, just another kid trying to survive in Queens. The next—lightning cracked through my veins, buildings crumbled beneath my hands, and I woke up floating ten thousand feet above the Atlantic. Xavier found me mid-fall, his voice in my head like an anchor. He says I’m not a monster. He says I’m *gifted*. But when I sneeze, hurricanes form. When I get angry, satellites die. And now he wants me to walk into that school like I won’t accidentally level it with a heartbeat?
My Dad Locked Me in the Storage Closet to Starve
My father's adopted daughter was only locked in the cramped storage closet for around fifteen minutes, yet he punished me by tying me up and throwing me inside. He even sealed off the ventilation with towels. "As Wendy's older sister, if you can't take care of her, then you should also experience how scared she was," he declared coldly. He knew I was claustrophobic, but my desperate pleas for mercy, my terror, were met with nothing but heartless reprimands. "Let this be a lesson on how to be a good sister." As the last sliver of light disappeared, swallowed by the oppressive darkness, I struggled helplessly. A week passed before my father finally remembered my existence and decided it was time to end my punishment. "Let's hope this week served as a good lesson for you, Jennifer. If this happens again, you will no longer be allowed in this house." He would never know that I had already taken my last breath in that suffocating room. My body had begun to rot in the darkness.
Don't Open the Window
You hear it every night now—the soft tapping at the glass, like fingernails dragging across the pane. The others say it’s just the wind, but you know better. It watches. It waits. And tonight, the lock on the window is broken. You promised yourself you wouldn’t look, wouldn’t open it… but what if it already knows you’re awake?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.