Novels by olamidekkk

The moment Ethan Gray stepped into the Riverport Film Studios the next morning, he was summoned to the main council chamber. Nine of his colleagues, all of them young, ambitious graduates from various film schools, were already seated around the long oval table, their faces taut with the nervous energy of a first-day assignment.The door swung open, and the Deputy Head of the Writers' Circle, Hector Chase, marched in. He was a man who radiated efficiency, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk looking for a weak link in the chain."You’ve all been with the company for varying lengths of time," Hector began, leaning his palms on the table. "Some of you have been here three months, while others—like Ethan Gray and Hector Chase Jr.—have only been here a week. Now, it's time to see what you're actually worth. I'm giving you a theme. You have exactly twenty-four hours to produce a script treatment of no less than five thousand words. I want them on my desk before you clock out tomorrow."A

For two days, the silence from Riverport Film Studios was absolute. Ethan Gray didn't spend the time waiting by the phone. Experience had taught him that the entertainment industry was a beast that moved at its own sluggish pace. He polished his resume, sent out applications to two other production houses, and even attended an interview for a junior copywriter position at an ad agency. They offered him the job on the spot, but the pay was meager and the creative freedom non-existent. He politely declined.By the third evening, as he closed his laptop, the shadows outside his window were lengthening. The quiet of the Little Red Pony Academy began to give way to the evening's unique rhythm. The children were arriving.Ethan had been eating out mostly, exploring the cheap noodle stalls of The Old Quarter, but tonight he felt like cooking. He whipped up two simple dishes—chilled spiced chicken skewers and some stir-fried greens—and took his dinner out to the balcony.The academy sat on a

The defiant little Blanche didn't dance in the end. Instead, she offered Ethan Gray a series of sharp, narrow-eyed glares—the kind of look a tiny, cornered predator gives a trespasser—and successfully "scared" him away. Ethan retreated to his third-floor sanctuary, chuckling to himself at the sheer audacity of the six-year-old.As the clock struck 10:00 PM, the rhythmic cycle of The Midnight Academy shifted. The heavy iron gates creaked open more frequently. The evening was no longer about play; it was about the tired, weary reunion of the city's night-shift workers and their children.Parents, their faces etched with the grime of the production lines or the pale exhaustion of office overtime, began to arrive. Some children were already dead to the world, buried deep in their Cotton throw blankets. These little ones were gently hoisted into their parents' arms, their small hands instinctively clutching a shirt collar or a sleeve, refusing to let go even in sleep. Others, the "little r

Two days had passed in a silent, agonizing stalemate. Riverport Film Studios had offered no response to Ethan Gray’s application, their silence a heavy, suffocating blanket over his ambitions. Ethan didn’t spend his time wallowing, however. He was a man of action, or at least a man of calculated persistence. During those forty-eight hours, he had scoured every trade publication and job board he could find, firing off resumes to two other production houses. He had even managed a face-to-face interview with a mid-tier animation firm.He had walked out of the building with an offer in hand, but the terms were insulting. They wanted a workhorse for a pittance, someone to grind away in the shadows of a corporate machine with no creative agency and even less pay. It was a far cry from the Chartered civil appointment or the prestigious studio roles he envisioned. He had politely declined, preferring the uncertainty of his current situation over the certainty of a stagnant career.Frustrated,

Although the Little Red Pony Academy was nestled within the beating heart of one of the world's most frantic metropolises, the atmosphere inside the gates was unnervingly quiet. Thick, ancient trees—survivors of a time before the concrete giants rose—acted as a natural acoustic barrier, swallowing the roar of traffic from West Longpeace Avenue. From the windows of the third floor, the view was a sea of deep emerald, a verdant shield that isolated the academy from the city's neon pulse. It felt less like an urban childcare center and more like a hidden sanctuary, a place where time slowed down to the pace of a falling leaf.Ethan Gray lay on his back in the darkened room, his eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling. In the silence, his mind churned. He sifted through fragments of two lives: the memories of a celebrated, though frustrated, screenwriter from another world, and the chaotic, hedonistic recollections of the young man whose skin he now wore.Regret is a luxury I can’t afford, he

Perhaps Ethan Gray had been standing at the gates of the Little Red Pony Academy for a moment too long. His stillness amidst the evening bustle eventually drew the attention of the security guard. The man, a sturdy figure with a weathered face, stepped out from his small booth, his eyes narrowing with professional suspicion."Can I help you, young man?" the guard asked, his voice a cautious rumble.Ethan broke his gaze from the glowing windows of the academy and smiled. " Old Ashford, you don't recognize me? It’s me, Ethan Gray."The guard froze. He leaned in, peering intently at Ethan’s face, scanning the sharp jawline and the clear, steady eyes. For a few seconds, he looked utterly bewildered, and then, like a camera lens snapping into focus, recognition dawned on him."Good grief! It’s Young Master Gray!" Old Ashford exclaimed, his posture relaxing instantly. "I didn't recognize you with the short hair! What are you doing here? Is it summer recess already?"Ethan let out a small, s