The Omniscrolls

It was three in the morning when the half-demon named Jackal was awoken by repeated knocking at his front door. Snapping alight the torches fixed upon his wall, he made his way through the main hall, opening it ready for another group of drunks or vandals, but it was the land’s sole princess at his doorstep. “Princess Ashlyn, what brings you here at this hour?” “My father intends to have me married within a month. I am to stay here until someone worthy arrives.” Jackal was furious; the nerve of the king to use him as bait. It was one of those times where he wished he hadn’t inherited his mother’s compassion. If he were all-demon, he may not have felt guilty about ridding the king within the following hour. Jackal took pity on the princess and welcomed her into his home. He led her to what was once his mother’s room, left untouched as it was a decade ago, save for the weekly cleaning. Ashlyn apologised to Jackal, saying that she would have never chosen this if it were up to her. He foun...

I was discharged from the military only a month ago, but somehow, my energy levels had begun to deplete drastically. With the time it usually took me to do a hundred pushups, now I could barely do even ten. I tried everything from changing my diet to altering my routine, but nothing worked. Not even my husband, who was a doctor, could help me with the issue. Two months passed and I could barely take a walk outdoors without feeling exhausted by the end of the trip. I spoke about my issues with my best friend, and she said that maybe I should hire a hitman to ensure I stick to my routine. She said she knew someone who’d accept such a job. I knew my friend was joking, but seeing my options disappear one by one, I decided to take my chances.  I hired the hitman my best friend knew; he was amused by my proposal. He asked me how he would get paid if he were to actually take me out. I assured him it would never come to that and paid him half of the promised sum upfront. The initial contra...

I carried the label of “freak” with me to every school I went to. I was at my sixth school, sitting in a corner of the cafeteria while trying to avoid the latest group of bullies when, suddenly, I felt a cold breeze brush past me. “Not again … ” I wished I didn’t hear anything this time. Thankfully, I didn’t. It started six years ago when I was ten. I began to feel presences that weren’t there, and felt as if something was always trying to reach out to me. This happened no matter how many times I switched schools, and each time, the presence I felt was a different one. My mom, being superstitious, made things worse for me by forcing me to wear protective rings and chains that brought too much attention to me. Many classmates made fun of me, saying I was a witch. I sometimes wondered whether they were right. If only I could fully see what was reaching out to me… One morning, I was with my eyes shut while listening to music when, suddenly, I felt that familiar presence brush past me with...

Reincarnation was a belief that stayed strong in the hearts of many people in my neighbourhood, who often seemed to account several of their past lives in great detail, but having no such memories myself, I found the idea a little difficult to believe. When I was a child, my parents told me it was most likely because this was my first life as a human; that was even more perplexing since I was one of twins. However, my sister, Lily, claimed to retain memories from her previous life. Perhaps there was some truth to it. The townspeople believed that there was one law governing the process: to be reincarnated, at least the last living person who was closest to you must let go of their grief before they die. This law brought upon me nothing but despair on Lily’s and my 30th birthday—Lily passed away in a car accident on her way to our parents’ house. It bored a hole through our entire family. We wished we could move on for Lily’s sake, so that she would have the chance for a better life in ...

Everyone here is born with a birth tattoo on their wrist foretelling how they will die, but mine just read “Immortality”. This puzzled everyone. In school, some children considered me superhuman, while others thought of me as a freak. Some were even scared, fearing I’d bring about the end of our species. I didn’t know what to believe. Death and Immortality could not be anymore withdrawn from each other, so where did I fit in this paradox? The fear of loss held me back in forming external relationships, and the one person I had feelings for died in a car crash when we were still in our twenties. I eventually lived through the deaths of not just my parents, but also of my older and younger siblings, their children, and even their children. The only respite I had was my studies. It was the only thing I could bury myself in. I learned every language, all types of art, and every field of science. Three and a half centuries into my life, however, a strange phenomenon began to occur: a signif...

I never felt like I belonged, no matter where I was. I had kind friends, and parents that saw to my every need, so I couldn’t fathom why I felt that way. The feeling never went away, even when I got older. While we were still children, my best friend Leela often said I was strange for feeling the way I did, and that she wouldn’t have even cared if her parents passed away if it meant she could be adopted by my parents. I found her thoughts to be stranger than mine. Once I became an adult, however, I started to notice things. I could see and hear things that others could not. I feared my mental health was deteriorating, but I soon learned that it was not the case. I quickly found out that my abilities extended beyond heightened senses—I could manipulate the world around me. Wanting to figure out the extent of my powers, I decided to infuse it into my work. I had joined a software company after completing my degree and was a month into developing a new social media app. As a side project,...

I had just finished the latest chapter of my ongoing novel and was getting ready for bed early because I needed to leave the house by 5:00 a.m. to visit my parents for the weekend. It was a four-hour drive out of town to their place, but I made it a point to meet them at least once a month. It was the least I could do since they adopted me when I was just a newborn dropped off at their doorstep with nothing but a sheet wrapped around me. However, things took a strange turn when I was woken up around 2:00 a.m. to the ringing of the doorbell. Looking through the peephole, I was dumbfounded to find a woman carrying a backpack, whose resemblance was eerily similar to the protagonist of my book. She kept a vigilant eye on her surroundings and whispered into the door. “Please let me in. This is an emergency.” Seeing the fear on her face, I unlocked the door and asked the mysterious woman to come inside. She thanked me and rushed to the sofa. I took one more look outside and then locked the d...