Here are 2 true short love stories to read online for free. These are stories with a twist! By ‘twist’ we don’t mean just a bad or bizarre turn, we are talking evil and adventure too!
Each of these two stories occurred in different parts of the world, but are true-life accounts that have not been modified in any manner.
2 True Short Love Stories to Read Online For Free
We’ll begin with a short love story that took place on the East Coast of the United States. Enjoy the read.
In A Bed of Roses
Eric Clay was a 35-year-old business executive with a big international firm based in New York City. For six years he had worked his ass off to build his career and now he was beginning to reap the dividends.
Last week, the promotion he’d been gunning for had finally come and now he was just a step away from his main goal of becoming a vice president of his firm. He was now his own man and money was no longer a problem.
Everything about his world was perfect now, except one aspect. His personal life.
It was high time he got married. He was sick and tired of coming home to an empty house and a cold bed after a hard day’s work or a long hectic business trip. He needed a woman in his life on a permanent basis. But it wasn’t just any woman, though. He wanted Sophie in his life! His body and soul yearned for her now.
Sophie was a very attractive 27-year-old, a blue-eyed blond who worked as a teacher down in New Jersey. Eric loved Sophie so much that he drove down to New Jersey to be with her at every opportunity.
She pleased him greatly in all things and his desire for her was great. They’d been a couple for almost four years now and the fact that he lived and work away in New York City and traveled so often on business didn’t matter.
Their bond was strong.
Eric’s flight in from London touched down on schedule at the JFK international airport, New York, late that Tuesday morning and he found his car waiting in the airport’s parking lot where he’d left it three days before. He got into the Cadillac jeep and drove off, heading directly into the city.
He had no intention of going to his apartment. He wanted to make a purchase that had been at the back of his mind for some time now.
He made a stop at the jewelry store and another at a florist, then headed off toward the Jersey bridge and across into the city of New Jersey
Sophie lived in a well-furnished apartment on the top floor of a high-rise building in a nice part of the city. Eric had gotten the place for her himself so he had a key.
He let himself into the apartment and headed for the bedroom. He’d bought an expensive diamond engagement ring and a lot of roses to go with it.
He had a plan.
He set everything up carefully on the bed and went out into the balcony to hide, relaxing with a bottle of wine. Sophie would soon be back home from work and he wanted to surprise her.
He did not wait for long.
About half an hour later, the front door opened and Sophie Roberts entered. She dropped her things on a sofa in the living room and headed off to the kitchen to get herself a glass of cold water. It had been a hot day at work and she was so thirsty.
Afterward, she headed for the bedroom to take off her clothes and take a shower.
She walked in through the bedroom door and froze in her tracks in shock. Her handbag fell to the floor, spilling its contents, but she barely noticed as she stared at the unbelievable spectacle before her eyes.
The entire bedroom was littered with red rose petals. They were everywhere, on the floor and on the big bed!
The white sheets on the bed were covered with red rose petals except for the middle area. The red rose petals were carefully arranged to form a large heart-shaped symbol in the middle of which was a bunch of rich rose flowers and an open jewel case with a glittering large diamond ring. Small rose petals were arranged next to the jewel case to form the words… ‘Will you marry me?”
Sophie let out a scream of joy and clapped her hands together excitedly. She grabbed her handbag on the floor and rummaged frantically in it until she found her phone, then forgot the bag again on the floor.
She speed dialed and put the phone to her ear as she moved closer to the bed to get a better look at the large diamond ring.
Her call was answered after a few rings.
“Oh, Josh,” cried Sophie. “Yes, yes, yes, and yes, I will marry you.”
“What are you talking about?” came the male voice over the phone.
“Your marriage proposal,” replied Sophie breathlessly, quickly. “It’s so romantic. I accept with all my heart.”
“What in hell are you talking about? What marriage proposal?” asked the voice again.
“The ring and rose you left on my bed,” replied Sophie. “I just saw them.”
“Sophie, it’s still too early in the day to be drunk,” came the dry reply. “I haven’t been to your apartment since l left there this morning and I certainly did not place any imaginary ring and flowers on the bed before leaving.”
“Oh… then who… who could have –?”
“It was me,” came another male voice in the room.
Sophie whirled and stared in open-mouthed horror as Eric stepped through the balcony doors into the bedroom. The phone dropped to the floor, shattering to pieces as her hands flew up to cover her open mouth. She took several steps backward in fear as she saw the terrible look on Eric’s face.
Eric stared at the woman he’d dated for four years and had been planning to marry. The only woman he had ever loved with all his heart. He felt like beating her to death there and then with all the bitterness and anger in his heart, but he didn’t do it.
Eric wasn’t a violent man, nor was he a forgiving one. What he did was walk away.
He walked away without a word or backward glance. He walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment and out of her life.
1 or 2 true short love stories to read online for free.
The Den of A Witch Doctor: The Escape
The den of an African witch doctor is a terrifying place to be. Very few victims get in there and live to tell the story, but just months ago, a man was in this situation and this is his story.
The Den of a Witch doctor: The Escape
My name is Kenneth Uba. I am of Igbo extraction, 28 years of age, an unemployed engineer working as a secondary school teacher in Lagos State, Nigeria. I have been engaged for about 5 months to a lady of 25, who works in a company in Ibadan, the capital city of the neighboring state, Oyo state. And that is how my strange story began.
My relationship with Linda, who I loved so much, was about a year old. We’d met at a friend’s party in Lagos and it was love at first sight, at least it was on my side.
Mindful of the dangers of a long-distance relationship, I always made at least two trips a month to visit my fiancée despite all the regular phone calls. It was on my second trip to Ibadan that February, a full day ahead of plan, that odd things began to happen.
After the long trip up from Lagos, I finally arrived at my Linda’s apartment at about four o’clock that Friday evening to find that my key no longer worked – she’d changed the lock.
At first, I thought she wasn’t home, the windows of the apartment were all closed, but a neighbor assured me that she was because her car was parked just outside the compound. That one confused me because my Linda didn’t have a car, couldn’t afford one on her moderate salary, but then the man showed me the car.
One look at the glittering white Toyota Rav jeep with another jeep, a big Mercedes, parked directly behind it, and I knew my relationship was in trouble.
I marched straight back to Linda’s front door and renewed my knocking with a vengeance.
In a few minutes, Linda opened the door wearing only a dressing gown and behind her was a well-fed man of about forty in only boxer shorts. He had a possessive arm around my finance’s waist and an irritated look on his face like I was bothering him.
I never said a word, never waited to hear any. I just turned and walked away.
It was about five o’clock now, barely two hours to nightfall and I had nowhere else to go except to a friend’s place on the outskirts of town.
I boarded a blue 14-seater bus that was to take me to the Sango area from where I would get another bus to where my friend lived. The bus was like any other, complete with an arrogant conductor screaming the bus’s destination at the top of his voice for would-be passengers to hear. The bus was already full with just one seat left, which I took and off it went.
The Sango area is located on the outskirts of the city and so we had to go through the Tollgates at the city limits. Once we were though, one of the men sitting with the driver in front abruptly brought out a gun and my heart skipped several beats. A man seated directly in the next row behind me got out a gun too and the first armed man spoke.
“Alright, everybody, bring out the things on you now!” he barked from the front seat.
There were actually three of them and a woman, not counting the conductor and driver who were clearly in on it. They collected everything from the passenger; I gave them my phone, wallet and all the things inside including my ID cards.
My initial thought that this was a one chance robbery and we would be dropped off somewhere beyond the busy Sango area, soon began to fade as the driver sped over the Sango Bridge and headed out into the heavily forested countryside through which the highway ran.
There was a police van parked by the roadside some distance after the bridge and as the bus sped by it, one of us, a man, made a desperate attempt to shout but got a gun smashed into his ribs by one of the men who pushed the window next to him carefully closed.
Once the bus sped past the police van, the armed man hit the would-be whistleblower several vicious blows with the gun and then they warned us all not to try anything funny else they would waste our lives.
The bus kept driving along the highway at speed and I realized that I was in big trouble.
After about half an hour, the bus suddenly slowed and turned onto a dirt road that ran directly into the thick forest. I hadn’t the slightest idea where I was.
Our captors abruptly put white handkerchiefs to their nose as two of them quickly sprayed something around in the bus from spray cans.
I suddenly felt dizzy and then passed out.
When I came to, we were driving up to a brightly lit one-story building of modest size sitting in a wide clearing right in the middle of the thick forest.
The bus came to a halt in the clearing and we got herded out like cattle. It was at this point I discovered that there were only seven of us, passengers on the bus. All the others were actually members of the gang, there were nine of them, including two middle-aged women, the driver and the conductor!
They marched us off to the edge of the clearing, bundled us into a metal structure that was more of a cage than anything else, locked the gates and left. They all went into the big house.
It was almost completely dark now and there was nothing to be seen except the bright lights from the big house and the forest wall on all sides. Heart hammering in my chest, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time.
I prayed to the living God above for help.
About an hour later, we got a visit from our host. Some of our captors, four men, and two women, came to the cage with him.
The man was dressed in the weird attire of an African witch doctor. He was of average build and wore a long red wrapper that covered his lower body from waist to feet. His upper body was bare and crisscrossed with strange markings of white paint, his face and arms too. Around his neck hung a necklace of charms and shells, including that of huge snails.
The witch doctor looked us over and then ordered us to take off all our clothes. The other men made us obey, taking the clothing all away, then made us stand in a line in front of the cage, facing the witch doctor, all seven of us, four men and three women.
The witch doctor did a very strange thing. He got out a white shell, the size of a large coin, with a red rope tied through a hole in it. Standing a few feet away from us, he tossed the shell at the chest of each one of us and it actually stuck firmly there like a piece of powerful magnet throw at an iron gate.
This happened to all of us except one of the two middle-aged women.
Three times the witch doctor tried, and three times the shell fell to the floor, refusing to stick to the woman’s ample bosom.
At a nod from the witch doctor, two men dragged the naked woman off into the darkness of the forest and we all heard the gunshots.
Our captors, the four men, and two women shaved all the hair from our bodies, and then, they put us back in the mosquito-infested cage and went away, going into the house.
They weren’t done with us for the night.
Soon after, one of them, a big rough-looking man with bushy hair and beard came back, seized one of us, the elderly looking man among us, and dragged him off into the house.
They were gone for several minutes, and then, were back. The man brought the elderly man back to the front of the cage, and right there in front of our eyes, slaughtered him with a knife like a goat.
This demon of a man went on to hack off the old man’s head completely and then, like a trophy, held it up for us to see.
I went numb with shock; my blood ice-cold with horror. This was by far the most gruesome thing I had ever seen in my life, though I’d read about how the Islamic terrorist’ group up north, Boko Haram did it all the time.
One of the two women remaining among us, a young woman, began to scream in horror and the older woman desperately tried to shut her up.
The demon man, the executioner, looked at us and chuckled. “This is the fate that awaits all of you and there is no running away from it.”
The man had barely finished talking when a woman emerged from the house, escorted by two other men. They came up and carried the head and the corpse off to a small low building to the other side of the clearing. They were in there for several minutes, and then, emerged with the woman carrying a small bloodstained white bucket. They all headed into the house, the executioner with them.
I sat in a corner of the cage, crying quietly and thinking about my life. Was this how it would end, all because of a woman that didn’t even care for me after all? I couldn’t sleep that night and none of the others did.
Time dragged on, and then, they came for another one of us, the demon executioner and another man this time.
The second person they picked was a young man and he screamed and struggled desperately as they dragged him away to the house but there was no help anywhere.
They were back with him a short time later, and like the elderly man, he was slaughtered right there before our eyes. God alone knows the kind of knife the man was using, it was so sharp, it could sever the head clean from the body with little effort.
Again, the woman and her escorts were there to carry the corpse off to the small house, emerged again soon after with the same bloodstained bucket and went into the big house.
It was clear to us now that we were being slaughtered for parts, more likely for ritual purposes than for the organ transplant market. And there was no escape. The two remaining women, both clearly married and with kids, were just weeping, bemoaning their terrible fate. We, the two men left, were mostly young, but no better off. We cried openly and didn’t bother hiding it.
I wept and prayed repeatedly to God, making all sorts of promises I never would have even dreamed of under normal circumstances. I kept at it for a long time, and then, God answered… I was the next to be slaughtered!
The night was cold with dew now, which showed it was the small hours of the morning. The executioner and his friend came marching back to the cage and there was no hiding place for us.
As always, the other man opened the gate of the metal cage and waited while the executioner entered to select the next victim. I was chosen and dragged out of the cage. The other man relocked the gate of the cage while the executioner started dragging me off towards the house. That was when the idea suddenly occurred to me.
There were big granite stones around on the ground, visible in the bright white lights from the big house. As the executioner dragged me on, I deliberately stumbled and fell to my knees, seemingly helpless, but I secretly grabbed one of those big stones in my hand.
The arrogant man cursed at me and as he started to drag me roughly to my feet, I hit him with the stone square in-between the legs with all my strength.
The big man bellowed with pain and let go of me even as he dropped the cutlass in his other hand. I hit him hard with the stone again in the face for good measure and he went down heavily like deadwood. I ran for the forest and behind me, the second man started shouting.
I made it across the clearing fast and entered the dark forest. I ran blindly on for a while, and then, remembering I would be pursued, changed direction, heading to my left. I changed direction one more time and ran on for quite a while before falling into a ditch, hit my head on something and lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was lying in a ditch overgrown with vegetation. High above me, beyond the thick canopy of the mighty trees of the forest, the sky was already lightening up fast. I clawed my way out of the ditch, took my bearing as best as I could and began to run again.
I spent the whole day on the move in the depths of that virgin forest, running and falling, picking myself up and running again, I hardly rested in my desperate flight.
By the time I emerged onto a wide dirt road, it was almost dark again. The first person I came across was a well-dressed young woman. She was a Godsend; I know that now.
On sighting me, the woman nearly ran away, and who would blame her? Stark naked as I was, covered in mud and so rough looking, I was the perfect definition of a dangerous mad man.
“Please wait!” I called out quickly in perfect English and that stopped her. That was the first sign of luck I recognized because I was definitely deep in rural Yorubaland where the people were sure to be illiterates as villagers come and I didn’t speak a word of the language.
The woman kept her distance, but the hesitation and doubt in her eyes started to fade as I explained my circumstance to her in perfect English and begged for one of her wrappers to cover my nakedness so people who saw me wouldn’t mistake me for a lunatic.
The woman was richly dressed in the Yoruba fashion like a person of wealth; one long wrapper covered her lower body, wide-sleeved Buba-blouse top above, matching head tie and expensive bead ornaments – necklaces, bracelets, and earrings – all in shades of green. An extra wrapper was folded over one shoulder as the native Yoruba fashion required and it was that one she released to me.
I covered my nakedness and she led me off to a small town nearby where I discovered that her father was the highest traditional ruler there with a big mansion to show his wealth.
The people gathered to hear my story and it frightened most of them. With the young lady who helped me translating my English smoothly into the Yoruba language for all to understand, they asked me for descriptions and directions to the place but I couldn’t tell them much. I was in terrible shape and certainly couldn’t retrace my steps in a forest that vast and dense.
The king, the father of the lady who helped me, was with his chiefs and they didn’t look surprised at all to hear my story. It turned out that they’d been hearing stories like mine for years and guessed my predicament the moment they saw me.
A hunting party with dogs was dispatched into the forest but soon returned empty-handed, which didn’t surprise me at all. To get there, they would have to travel in circles for more than half a day.
The interesting thing was my story wasn’t so strange to the hunters either. Some of them said they had been hearing stories like mine a lot lately and wished they could somehow locate this big house within the forest and the evil people operating it so as to expose them.
It turned out that the town I had emerged into was called Arigbajo, and it was located, clean across in another state – Ogun State!
I became the special guest of a rich king and his well-educated daughter. Both were the only people in the whole town who understood the English language I spoke and I got on with them so well. The princess, in particular, was wonderful. She helped me greatly with the emotional and physical rehabilitation I needed.
I stayed in the palace for about three weeks during which time I got visits from police officers investigating the matter. My relationship with the princess developed rapidly until it got to the point where I took the bold step of asking her father for her hand in marriage. That’s the Yoruba people for you, one could marry that fast.
The king gave me, not only his beautiful daughter, but also a top job in his company in the state capital.
Even as I tell this story, I have no idea what became of the other people I left behind at the den of the witch doctor, but I strongly suspect they were slaughtered for parts like the others were.
As for me, I am now based in the city of Abeokuta, the capital of Ogun state. I live in a nice house with three exotic cars and a princess for a wife who is five months pregnant with my first child.
Oh, and I go to church regularly now.
Indeed, the almighty God does work in mysterious ways!
These are the two true short love stories to read online for free as promised. Perhaps one day I might bring you more true stories like these.
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