After Death Short Stories & Novels

When I practice standing at attention during the freshman orientation program, my mom, Jasmine Miller, decides to lock me up in a car with fully sealed windows just because I'm the first one who wipes sweat off her brow. "You were never able to stand properly ever since you were a kid! How dare you embarrass me in front of everyone with that slump of yours! In that case, you might as well reflect on yourself in the car!" The temperature in the car soon rose to 140 degrees Fahrenheit. I could only grip my throat, which is closing up rapidly, as I bang on the car window and plead to Mom to let me out. But she merely glances at the temperature shown on the monitor inside the car before locking all the doors with a jab of the remote control. "It's only 96.8 degrees inside the car! Heck, it's even a degree lower than the temperature outside! Keep putting on that act of yours, why don't you?" But what Mom doesn't know is that the car's system has already gotten disconnected from the Internet a long time ago. Seeing as the temperature inside the car is still increasing, I have no choice but to ask my orientation leader, Edwin Styke, for help. But he actually agrees with Mom's approach to things. "If every parent were as strict as Ms. Miller, none of the youngsters would grow up fragile and whiny!" Driven by sheer despair, I can only slump in the backseat. Soon, my consciousness fades away completely. Some of my peers try to plead on my behalf, only to witness the way Mom tosses her car key into the dumpster. "Kate really is enjoying her break, huh? Now that she's lying inside the car, she refuses to even move a muscle! Well then, she can lie there all she wants!" But Mom, I don't need you to free me anymore. After all, I can feel myself ascending slowly from the car. Finally, I'm free from this sauna! As I stare at Mom's furious face, I can only grip the hem of my sweat-soaked shirt uneasily. I'm sorry for embarrassing you in front of everyone again, Mom…

The day I have only 220 dollars left in my savings, I buy a 200-dollar ticket to a piano recital. When my friend finds out, she asks if I have gone crazy. I reply without a hint of emotion, "I just want to see what kind of woman is worth taking all our savings and spending it on a concert grand piano for. "That money was supposed to save our daughter. Summer was counting on it for her surgery." The recital lasts two full hours, and everyone praises the beautiful music. But all I can think about is the woman onstage and my husband, Zander Stafford, sitting right in front of her. He's dressed in a sharp suit and looks so refined that I barely recognize him. At the end of every song, Zander is always the first to applaud. There is a fervor in his eyes I have never seen before. It isn't until the recital ends that I finally receive a message from him after two months of silence, along with a bank transfer. "I'm sorry, Sabina. Things are tight at the construction site right now, so I'm using some of the money from that account," he writes. "My boss says he'll pay me back as soon as the money comes in. "Didn't you say Summer is sick and in the hospital? Take these 5,000 dollars for now." I look up at the two people embracing in the center of the stage. I return the money and reply, "It's not necessary." I no longer need it. I will never need his money again. Summer is already dead, and nothing matters anymore.

To support Gavin Cooper’s work, I waited in our first-floor home with our son, who was burning with a high fever, while the hurricane raged outside. Yet as the head of the local emergency response team, he gave the last remaining life ring to his childhood sweetheart, Wendy Harper, on the tenth floor. When I voiced my dissatisfaction, he berated me over the phone. “Luna, you’re my wife. I can’t abuse my position for personal gain. I have to set an example. “But Wendy is different. She’s a widow raising a young daughter, so I have a responsibility to make sure they’re protected.” Once again, his argument about putting the greater good first won me over. That was until the floodwaters swallowed the first floor, and I hurriedly called the command center while holding my barely breathing son in my arms. The person on the other end apologized before informing me, “Ma’am, Mr. Cooper registered Miss Harper and her daughter as the first people to be evacuated. You and your son were placed in the final group.” As I watched my son slowly stop breathing, my heart turned to ash. “System, I accept your recommendation to leave this world with my son.” “Gavin, my son and I will never need you to save us again.”

To force me to hand over my adopted sister Cecilia Lovelace's lost diamond bracelet, my older brother, Callum Lovelace, locks me in the underground wine cellar. I have severe claustrophobia and heart failure. The moment the iron door clicks shut and locks from the outside, my chest tightens. I throw myself against the door and pound on it frantically. My fingernails scrape against the metal, producing an ear-splitting screech. Cecilia's plaintive voice crackles through the surveillance intercom in the corner. "Forget it, Callum. I won't look for my bracelet anymore. The way Carol was banging on the door earlier was terrifying… Let's not push her too far." Callum's voice is as cold as ice. "She slept in a windowless basement in the countryside until she was 13, and now she expects me to believe she's developed claustrophobia after returning home? She had plenty of strength to pound on the door a moment ago. "Now, she's gone silent because she knows she can't get anywhere with brute force, so she's putting on an act to make me feel sorry for her. Ignore her. Let her keep up the act in there!" I claw at the door until my fingernails split. Then, I slide down until my body hits the floor. My heart finally stops beating. When I open my eyes again, I'm floating in midair inside the surveillance room. Callum leans back in his leather chair, staring coldly at the monitor. "I know her all too well. Caroline will be begging me to let her out before half an hour's up!" he scoffs. I lie motionless behind the wine cellar door on the screen. He's still waiting for me to swallow my pride and beg for mercy, but I'm already standing right behind him. I'm dead, Callum. How am I supposed to beg for mercy now?

While working a summer job at a water park, I was deliberately tripped by Kimmy Ames, my boyfriend Colin Mack’s childhood friend. I fell from an elevated platform. Colin cradled Kimmy, who was only pretending to be unconscious, and blamed me instead. “Some physical contact is unavoidable when I’m teaching her to swim. Are you really so jealous that you’d hurt yourself just to frame Kimmy?” I was in too much pain to offer any rebuttal. Then, the wave pool suddenly activated and swept me into the deep end. Colin was a lifeguard. He gave the only flotation device to Kimmy, who was taking swimming lessons in the shallows. “You have advanced lifeguard certification. A little water isn’t going to kill you, so get yourself out. Kimmy’s still traumatized by a drowning accident that happened when she was younger, so I have to keep her safe.” When I did not respond, he impatiently raised his megaphone. “You’re really going to keep putting on this attention-seeking act in front of everyone? Fine! Stay in there and cool off until you’re ready to behave.” To make sure I had time to reflect on my actions, he cleared everyone else out of the pool before walking away with his arm around Kimmy. He did not know that my arm was broken. I could not swim at all. He also did not know that at that very moment, a whirlpool was pulling me down with relentless force. I calmly closed my eyes and watched him leave. The system permitted him to abandon me only five times. This was the last.

I had died for a year and was pushed to cross the River of Souls 99,999 times, but I could not do so as no one had given me a proper burial. The netherworld forced me to return to the mortal world for 48 hours to find someone to bury me, or my soul would vanish after 48 hours. They even started a livestream to make some income for themselves. On the first day of my return, my ex-girlfriend and the real heir of the family who hated me were about to get married. Netizens predicted that I would be malicious enough to crash the wedding for revenge, but all I did was sit in a small restaurant and order myself a delicious burger. While waiting for my food, the first sentence I said to the camera was, "I will vanish completely from this world after 48 hours."

While my entire family was helping my adopted sister try on wedding gowns, the doctor told me I had almost no time left. I held my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis and sent one message to the Moretti family group chat. “If I were dying, would any of you miss me?” Three minutes later, my parents replied. “You would lie about having cancer just to ruin Bianca’s wedding?” “Enough. The Moretti family has no daughter who tells lies like this.” My brother called, already irritated. “Bianca’s father died taking a bullet for me. No one will ever walk her down the aisle. She only wants to experience one wedding. Why can’t you let this go?” My childhood sweetheart and fiancé, Adrian Vitale, never answered. He was kneeling in front of Bianca, gently arranging the skirt of my wedding gown. Seven days earlier, my family had decided to give her my wedding. I stood there for a long time before signing the body donation papers. My parents and brother could choose her. My fiancé could choose her too. This time, I would fight for nothing.

After my sister Rose died, my Luna Mom remained consumed by the immense grief of losing her daughter. So, from the moment I was old enough to understand, I was forced to play the role of my sister. Mom forbade me from wearing white, because my sister's favorite color was red. She forbade me from cutting my hair short, because my sister wore hers long. If I disobeyed, a slap would come across my face, and she would question whether I was truly her daughter. Alpha Dad told me again and again that Mom was overwhelmed by grief, and that I should indulge her and play along. I obediently followed suit, imitating my sister in everything. Until the day I was accepted into the Werewolf Academy, and Mom tore my admission letter to shreds. "Your sister died before she ever got to attend the Werewolf Academy, so you are not allowed to go either!" I nodded. Back then, my sister died of spirit decay. Now the healer has told me I'm in the final stages too. This time, I will be her perfectly.

When my elder sister, Melanie Grant, is 15, I inadvertently cause the death of our parents. I want to eat cake, so Mom and Dad make a U-turn halfway. Tragically, a drunk driver behind the wheel of a heavy-duty truck takes their lives on the spot. I suffer a severe blow to the head, causing my mental capacity to regress to that of a seven-year-old. Alone, Melanie buries Mom and Dad. When the orphanage offers to take me in, she holds back her tears and shakes her head. "My little brother needs me." Everyone believes she simply cannot bear to lose all her family members at once, but they assume that sooner or later, she'll remember what I've done and send me to the orphanage. Over the next decade, she takes me with her everywhere, from school to work. She even adopts another brother to help take care of me. One day, our little brother, Noah Cooper, burns his hand while pouring me a cup of hot water. Melanie suddenly shoves me to the floor. "It's been ten years! Haven't you had enough?" she barks. "I gave up my education and a good job for you! Why do you keep hurting us? You should've just died! Without you, all of us would be happier!" I don't understand why Melanie is so angry. But what I do know is that I must listen to her.

My wife, Aspen Harrod, was the richest person in this city, but I was just a lowly househusband. To celebrate her birthday, I used the two hundred dollars that I had saved for many years to buy her a birthday cake and a red rose. On the way to pick up the cake with my son, Jude Anderson, we ran into a car accident. Jude only suffered minor injuries with my protection, but I was in critical condition. Before I died, Jude gave Aspen three calls. In the first call, Jude cried. He said that I was seriously injured in the car accident, and I was covered in blood. Aspen snorted. “Is that weak-willed man thinking of new ways to get money from me? Sure, I’ll give you ten dollars. It should be enough for fast food.” In the second call, Jude hoarsely said that I was in a coma and had already lost consciousness. “Just send me his death certificate, and I’ll sign it!” Aspen yelled furiously. The hospital had issued a notice of critical condition for me, and they insisted that we immediately paid for the surgical bills. Jude called Aspen for the third time, but Aspen had already blocked us. Jude wiped the tears from his face and ran home with all his might. He wanted to use the few hundred dollars that he had saved in his piggy bank to buy me anesthesia. However, he realized that his piggy bank was empty. It was because one day after school, he had bought ice cream with his savings. Aspen claimed that he did not know how to manage his own money and took away his savings. I died, and Aspen’s first love, Greg Smith, sent a message. In the video, Aspen had rented out a whole private club. Under some fireworks, she took some cream from a tiered cake that was worth more than two hundred thousand dollars and smeared it on Greg’s face. She looked at him lovingly. “Darling, let me have a taste of you!” Jude clenched his fists and said, “Dad, I’ll make them pay!”

My wealthy parents, Derek Miller and Veronica Wright, worry that my brother Wilbur Miller and I will abuse our power and status. To prevent this, they assign us to their aviation company, forcing us to work the longest and most exhausting flights. During one flight to Kampland, a riot breaks out in the country, and the return flight is canceled. I call Mom and Dad, begging them to send a plane to bring Wilbur and me home, but they rebuke me coldly. "William Miller, fearlessness in the face of danger is the most basic quality of a flight attendant! Stop thinking about running away from your problems! You will return only when that return flight does." Desperate, Wilbur and I pull every string we can to buy tickets back home. But on the day of departure, my phone shows that our tickets are canceled and refunded. Just as I'm about to call the airline, Mom and Dad call instead. "If everyone else is staying, then why the hell should you get special treatment? I've already refunded the tickets. Don't even think about coming back by any means other than that return flight!" With that, they hang up and block us from purchasing any more tickets. Later, everyone else stranded abroad is safely sent home except for Wilbur and me. Wilbur is accidentally killed in the riots, while I am rescued by the embassy at the very brink of death. As I numbly handle Wilbur's funeral arrangements, I see a post online from my adopted younger brother, Corbin Miller. "I have the best parents in the world! They are so worried I'll get into danger abroad that they sent ten planes to escort me home!" This time, I don't make a scene. Instead, I calmly like the post and comment, "Your parents are so good to you. I wish the three of you a lifetime of happiness as a family."

At the reunion dinner, my adopted brother, Isaac Johnson, whispers in my ear, "The Johnson family only needs one son. You're just a country bumpkin. We don't need you here." I think he's right. So, I run straight into traffic at the intersection. My family is terrified. They rush over and manage to pull me back from the road. My sister, Rebecca Johnson, turns pale with anger and warns me not to upset Isaac again. I obediently nod. Then, late that night, I turn on the gas and leave a suicide note. "It's my fault for upsetting Isaac. I'll take the whole family to heaven with me. None of us will ever have to suffer again." My family stares at me as if I've gone mad. Later, at a party, Isaac and his friends push me into the pool. But I don't struggle. I simply let myself sink slowly to the bottom. Isaac panics and has no choice but to jump in and pull me out again. "Idiot! What if you really drowned? Mom and Dad would hate me! Couldn't you at least struggle?" What he doesn't know is that I've fought back before. But every time, it only ended with me dying a horrible death. This is my tenth time being reborn. This time, I just want to die.

My sister Kira and I had shared one body since birth, each controlling it for half the year. Even so, my CEO boyfriend Aiden loved me more than life itself. He built me a glass-domed garden where it was always spring so I could experience the seasons I slept through, tattooed my name over his heart, and promised, “You’re the only one I love.” I believed him. Yet our wedding was postponed eighteen times in six months. Before every wedding date, I was caught in an accident. Each time, I was badly injured but never killed. After I woke from the eighteenth accident, my private doctor told me my soul had suffered too much damage. When Kira woke in three days, I would disappear for good. I stumbled home in a daze and overheard my father talking to Aiden. “Eighteen accidents are too many. What if you really hurt Roxy?” “I calculated the risks in every accident,” Aiden said calmly. “None of them was supposed to kill her. How else was I supposed to keep postponing the wedding until Kira woke?” Tears blurred my vision. “As you wish.” Three days later, Kira woke as usual, and I never woke again. But after I died, Aiden went mad with regret.

When my sister and I were born, a witch prophesied that once my wolf awakened, it would kill my sister. To protect her, my parents had the witch place a curse on me. As long as my body temperature stayed above 102°F, my wolf could never awaken. For eighteen long years, I suffered through burning fevers every single day. On my eighteenth birthday, my wolf was on the verge of awakening. To prevent any chance of it happening, they kicked me into the heat chamber. I cried and begged them to let me out. But my father said, "Are you trying to awaken behind our backs? You know your wolf will kill your sister. Is that what you want? To drive her to her death?" The chamber was scorching, searing down to my bones. I pounded on the door with everything I had. "Mom, it's so hot in here! I'm in so much pain! Please let me out!" "Oh, stop putting on an act." My mother's voice was sharp and cutting. "Just tough it out and the awakening will pass! Your wolf can't awaken, and then your sister will finally be safe. Why are you always so selfish?" Footsteps faded into the distance. Sweat poured from my forehead, dripping onto my clothes, only to be quickly baked dry by the heat. I curled up in a corner, wrapped in waves of heat and pain. Eventually, my mind went dark, my body gave out, and my breathing stopped.

The doctor said I had a hundred days left. I didn't want a miracle. I just wanted one real family portrait. One where I sat dead center, impossible to cut out. I searched through every album in the house. My sister, Yvonne Miller, had her professional glamor shots. My brother, Daxton Miller had his milestone baby portraits. My parents had their framed wedding photo. There wasn't a single picture of just me. I remembered our old family photo from primary school. Mom told me I blinked, so she creased the paper down the middle and folded my side back. After that, I was always placed on the far left or the far right. It made it easier to crop me out. I saved up and booked time at a downtown photo studio. I even bought a navy silk dress, the most expensive thing I had ever owned. The night before the shoot, Mom smoothed out the fabric, folded it carefully, and handed it to my sister. "Your sister has a dinner date tomorrow with a barrister," Mom said. "It’s a big deal. Let her borrow it first." Dad didn't even look up from his paper. "Your brother has his regional final tomorrow anyway. We’ll reschedule the shoot. Once you're feeling better, I'll take you back and we'll do ten portraits." "What if I don't get better?" I asked. Silence filled the room. Daxton kept mashing buttons on his controller in the lounge. Yvonne was in her bedroom, admiring herself in my dress. I folded the studio receipt and slipped it into my coat pocket. The next morning, I went to the studio alone. I sat straight on the wooden stool in the middle of the backdrop. "Should we wait for the rest of your family?" the photographer asked, adjusting his lens. "And give me a smile?" "No need to wait," I replied softly. "And no need to smile." No one would have to crop me out anyway.

My fiancé sent me overseas and immediately burned my wallet, threw away my phone, and tore up my visa. He did it all to make sure I couldn't return home and ruin his wedding to his first love. His friends tried to warn him. "Don't go too far. What if your fiancée really gets angry?" But my fiancé didn't care at all. "She's gotten too spoiled because I've always treated her too well. I'm just teaching her to be more understanding. Besides, Yvonne and I aren't really getting married. I'm only doing this so her dying grandmother can pass away without regrets. Nothing will happen between us. Once the wedding is over, I'll make it up to Winnie." The moment his wedding ended, he rushed to find me and apologize. But he never got the chance to see me. Later, he even took my documents and planned to register our marriage first as a way to make it up to me. It seemed he truly had no idea that I had already died the night he sent me overseas.

Ten years after I'm abducted, I'm finally rescued and brought home. From that day on, Mom and Dad make me the center of their world. They even burn through their savings and move to another city for me. But those ten years leave me with severe depression. One day, I take a razor blade to my wrist. Dad grabs the blade with his bare hand. "If you die, what are your mom and I supposed to do?" All that attention soon starts to suffocate me. Eventually, I snap and smash up all the furniture in the house. Even then, Mom just pulls me into her arms and comforts me over and over. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's all over now." Then my younger adopted sister, Nancy Bonner, asks one simple question. "Is Jenny ever going back to where she lived before?" That's all it takes. Dad drags her out of her chair and starts beating her. However, that day Nancy comes down with a fever and has to go to the hospital, all I do is say I'm afraid of the dark. Mom whips around and stares at me in disbelief. "How can you be so selfish? I wish I'd never had you." Dad shoves me toward the door. "You're afraid of the dark? It's not even dark outside. Why didn't you just die out there? We already give you all our attention, and somehow it's still not enough. You're heartless. You're no daughter of mine!" Mom holds Nancy tight and hurries out the door with Dad. Just before they leave, Nancy looks back at me and mouths, "Mom's mine." Then they leave me alone in the dark. I pick up the razor blade from the floor and use every ounce of strength I have to crawl to my bedroom.

On the day of her daughter Nina’s funeral, before the pastor could finish the eulogy, Rosalind answered Samson’s phone call. “Change of plans. Let’s meet earlier. I’m on my way now.” Ethan held the small cremation urn in his arms. His knuckles turned white from gripping it too tightly. Nina had been critically ill with leukemia. Only Samson’s bone marrow matched hers. Driven to the brink, Ethan desperately begged Rosalind to go along with Samson’s request. She promised that she would only be playing pretend and would not fall for Samson. However, as time passed, she eventually fell for Samson and indulged him in every way. On the night when Nina needed the transplant the most, Ethan called her, frantic. However, she was unreachable because she was camping deep in the mountains. Ethan helplessly watched the three-year-old die in the emergency room. Later, Rosalind even protected Samson and let him stomp on Nina’s cross necklace. She even forcibly confined Ethan to a sanatorium and forced him to donate blood to Samson. It was not until Rosalind learned that Samson had deceived her from the very beginning that she felt piercing regret. She gave him fifty percent of her shares, knelt for hours at the cemetery, and tried to make amends wherever she could. However, no amount of regret could bring back the man she had deeply wounded.

My older brother was always my parents' favorite child. Victor had been sickly since birth, and from the time we were little, I was expected to absorb every misfortune meant for him. When his kidneys failed, my parents took one of mine and gave it to him. By then, my own body was already failing, yet when I begged them to treat me a little better, they only glared at me and cursed. "If you hadn't taken everything from your brother in the womb, why would he have suffered all these years? You owe this family. Pay it back." With untreated kidney disease worsening inside me, I died after Victor deliberately locked me inside his basement. It was painful, and it was bitter. But this life. I've given it back to you.

I spend three years in prison taking the fall for Dwight Reed, the precious assistant of my hospital director wife, Gretchen Payne. On the day I am released, the first thing I see is yet another Medical Malpractice Liability Acknowledgment. "Sign it, Dustin. I want you to take the blame for this incident, too. Dwi has a bright future ahead of him. He can't have a stain on his record." Gretchen shoves a pen into my hand. "You've already served time. So, one more charge isn't going to make a difference." When I don't budge, she clicks her tongue impatiently. "Dustin, you're a convicted felon. You should be grateful for the chance to take the fall for Dwi! It's only five years! "Don't push your luck. Or is this about money? In that case, name your price!" I look at Dwight, who's sitting in the car with his arm around her waist, and let out a silent, bitter chuckle. My hand tightens around the late-stage leukemia diagnosis in my pocket. Gretchen, how am I supposed to serve five years when I only have seven days left to live?