CREEPY SHORT STORIES

WICKED GAME

One day I was sitting in the cafeteria, my usual hot coffee in hand, taking my usual break from the monotony of work. Life had become a perpetual loop of sameness, lacking any excitement or surprises. As an ordinary woman, neither pretty nor ugly, I often found solace in my detective novels, immersing myself in the thrilling lives of fictional characters.

Lost in the pages, I barely noticed the entrance of an attractive man, around my age, into the bustling cafeteria. To my surprise, he approached my table and uttered, "Can I sit with you?"

Momentarily confused, I looked up from my book and locked eyes with a mesmerizing pair of blue orbs that sharply contrasted against his rich, dark skin. His request hung in the air, momentarily baffling my otherwise mundane existence. And so, in a moment of spontaneous curiosity, I accepted his invitation.

"My name is Malcolm," he introduced himself, a hint of mystery lacing his deep voice. "And you?"

Though personal questions always irked me, I felt a strange pull towards this enigmatic stranger. With a flicker of hesitation, I replied, "My name is Amanda."

A mischievous smile played upon Malcolm's lips as he posed an intriguing proposition. "Do you want to play a game?"

His voice resonated within me, awakening a dormant longing for something beyond the ordinary. Bored with the humdrum rhythm of my life, I found myself enticed by the prospect. Without fully comprehending the consequences, I asked, "What game is this?"

"For the next 24 hours," he declared, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, "you have to do everything I tell you without questions."

I felt a mixture of curiosity and hesitation bubbling inside me. What could this man possibly have in mind? Was it some sort of social experiment or a twisted game of control? I pondered these thoughts for a moment before finally deciding to take a leap of faith.

"All right," I replied, my voice barely audible as I questioned my own decision.

A mischievous smile spread across Malcolm's face. It was as if he had anticipated my answer all along. We continued our conversation as we sipped our coffees, with Malcolm revealing bits and pieces about his own life. He seemed charismatic and confident, yet there was an air of mystery surrounding him that intrigued me.

As our conversation progressed, I started to let my guard down, sharing snippets of my own story. I talked about my monotonous routine, my lack of excitement, and the scars from my past that still haunted me. Malcolm listened attentively, his gaze never leaving my eyes. It was a strange feeling to be heard, genuinely heard, by someone for the first time in years.

When our coffees were finished, the cafeteria started to empty out as people returned to their work. Malcolm leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Amanda, are you ready to change your life?"

I hesitated for a moment, uncertainty warring with the spark of hope flaring inside me. The longing for something different, something meaningful, was undeniable. I took a deep breath and nodded cautiously.

"Yes, I'm ready."

Malcolm's eyes gleamed with excitement as he outlined his plan. Over the next 24 hours, he promised to introduce me to a world beyond my monotonous routine, to push my boundaries, and to help me rediscover the strength and courage I had lost.

Malcolm drove me to his home. I was nervously waiting. I was about to enter the lion's den. However, I liked it. Because that experience from years ago would not allow me to appreciate my body as much as I wished in my dreams. But he only told me to sit on the couch.

He stripped naked and informed me, "I am your slave." "For the next 24 hours."

I stood up, but he said: "You have to do what I tell you."

I sat up and turned away from his nude body. He remained motionless in front of me.

"What are you waiting for?"

"What do you want to do, mistress?"

I went insane and slept with him.

I awoke the next morning to find him gone. When I went to check for him, I noticed a pool of blood on the floor.

I ran out of the apartment. I was a wimp, but I didn't want any complications. I went back to my cafeteria, back to my routine.

I once asked the doorman about him. No Malcolm had ever resided in that apartment.

What occurred? Nobody knows.