[Highest ranking yet: #13 in Short Story] Are we friends? No, we're more like pen pals except we don't communicate through letters and we're not pals. I'm slightly offended but I really think we have a connection. Negative, we don't. It's a virtual connection. STAHP. (This story was inspired by real people on Wattpad.)

[You can now purchase 100 Voicemails' paperback on Amazon!] After a car accident, seventeen year old Steve Carlton, goes into a coma. When he does wake up after a few months, he suffers from temporary memory loss. During this time, he starts to go through his messages and voicemails on his cellphone, trying to get a clue of who he used to be. Voicemails sent to him from a girl called Ari might have the answers to his questions. A story told through voicemails.

A honeymoon gone wrong, with no place to escape, no place to run, no place to hide and most importantly with no place for love. Story about a psychotic husband who now wants revenge because his own wife betrayed him. Ethan lost his mind when his wife reveals a dirty little secret, now the wall between sanity and insanity has been dropped. Now the same man who vowed to protect his wife forever is after her life. After all what marriage is all about if not struggle. "Scream all you want I will have my sweet revenge. Don't you dare worry my dear wife After all you are my perfect bride."

Dear Reader, It hadn't hit me right away, many things, but especially the fact that I was about to turn twenty years old. It was as if it was just yesterday that I was learning how to make a peanut butter sandwiches, tie my shoes, and draw endlessly with fat crayons--which I thoroughly believed to be a masterpiece. It had to be yesterday, when I was befriending any new person that I met with a dazzling smile. No, those were the years that I was numb--masked from the world and blissfully unaware of the dangers and lingering dark edges of the Chicago city. Life moves fast; terrifyingly fast for some, especially those who try and anchor down each and every day of their existence. For others, it moves drearily slow. I use to be numb, I use to be unaware of the shadows deep within the corners of the earth, the watchful figures around me. I use to draw scribbles, struggle to tie my shoes, and fail at doing the simple things, like tying shoes. I use to make friends with anyone I met and kept that friendship over a promise. I use to do a lot of things, actually. But that was when life was a whole lot simpler, safer, and perfect. That was before I knew about Death. That was before he became my frenemy. Forever and always, Faith Williams *** MY WRITING PAGE! Please join! http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kat-aka-katrocks247-from-Wattpad/208740202517075