A 1000 Ways To Die Novels & Stories

"She is not dying. She has been lying to all of you." He thought for a long time. Then he picked up his phone and called an old friend, a doctor in another city. "I need you to check someone for me," he said. "Chiara Moretti. I need her real medical records." The call came back the next afternoon. "The truth is," his friend said, his voice heavy. "She does have a heart condition, but it is not serious. Irregular heartbeat, mild. It does not affect her daily life. She is not dying. She has never been close to death."

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

Tom shouted as my face was buried in the cushion. I couldn’t mutter anything I was drained of the remaining dignity I had. My mind kept thinking of ways I can kill myself. Poison, gunshot, stabbing, hanging, running into ongoing traffic, drowning, burning myself, drinking acid. The endless choices sounded more like paradise than the way I was being treated. I decided to close my eyes to think about paradise

It was cruelty at its finest. “Please…” she begged, her voice dripping with desperation. She just wanted a break, a moment to catch her breath. Elias stepped closer and slowly knelt before her. “This is only Door One, Author… You have to go through one hundred.” Willa’s eyes widened, her breath caught as words refused to surface. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he stood up. “Welcome to the Hundred Doors….Author” “A hundred doors?!” Willa’s brain froze. “A hundred deaths… a hundred pains… a hundred tortures, no… no!” she cried, but it was useless.

I say taking a sip of my water His surprise showed on his face, "No?" He asks "Death!" I shouted for my mate In the snap of a finger, he was standing beside me, "Mhm?" He looks at me "Can you like get your friend away from me please, this is harassment," I sigh taking another sip of my water "Ares," Death addresses the guy tiredly "How did she do that?" He asks Death "Well she's a Goddess and she already found her mate, so your magic doesn't work on her," Death tells him

I lifted my leg and shook him off. "You're too late," I said indifferently. I pulled up a photo on my phone and dropped it at his knees. The photo showed a tiny, undeveloped fetus, streaked with blood, lying motionless on a cold metal tray. It was our pup, the one killed by his neglect. Cassian's sobs broke off. He stared at the photo until the last of his hope crumbled, his body going slack as a low, broken howl of grief ripped from his throat.

Hit up dozens of countries, saw things that'll stay with me forever—until one day in Ria de Janero, Fiona called. Dad was dead. Too much booze. Tripped on a rock walking home, cracked his head. Just like that—gone. All I could think was how stupidly fragile life is. Fiona asked where I buried Mom. Said his last wish was to be laid next to her. I told her, "He doesn't deserve it." Later, after I got back to Carmoria and started teaching, Mark showed up. He'd poured half his fortune into my physics lab. Showed up as the angel investor.

“I had a very memorable romance too.” She smiled bitterly and added, “I dated my husband for ten years, and I was married to him for five. He tolerated all of my imperfections without a complaint. Even my parents, who always doted on me, admitted that he was nicer to me than anyone else. But he died after we got into a car accident. He risked his life to protect me.” I listened to her description in silence. “I couldn’t sleep for countless nights and nearly collapsed. My life was filled with sorrow for a year before his mistress suddenly approached me. She came with his child and requested a share of his property.”

********* Two days later. Cara's POV I am feeling everything at once, but in the same time, nothing at all. My inside feels heavy yet light. I am cold, I am so cold. I can feel myself breathing, I feel the air push in and out of my lungs, I can feel my heart beating, pumping against my rib cage. I am alive, I know that I am alive but a part of me dies as they lower the casket into the ground. The coffin is dark stained cherry and it is perfectly polished. It has a cushioned and a silky lining. I want to touch it, will they let me touch it? I want to open it and see him one last time, would they let me do that?

I took a deep breath and tried typing the words. Just type anything Kath, don't stop. Yes just type, ignore the errors, just write. Just let the words out. Then I stopped when I suddenly felt my hand got tired. I checked the word count and it was already four hundred and fifty. Atleast. “Tim, are you still alive there?” I asked but my focus is still on the screen with my hands busy hitting the keys. “ He died.” “Who?” I replied. “ I wonder why authors love killing their characters.”