Adam Death Novels & Stories

she snapped. "And you don't want to know the truth because your father died?" Adam fished by slightly lifting the corners of his lips almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean you already know why my father died not because of illness?!" Alice reacted quickly. "As you might expect before, but without clear evidence your prejudice is nothing," said Adam. Alice drew closer to Adam and asked in a rather loud tone, “Please tell me what caused my father's death? Was he killed!?” “Killed subtly to be more precise. In his body, a large number of dangerous chemical substances were found, but they have been deposited for quite a long time," explained Adam.

She decided to put his ashes in his study because it was one place that always calmed him down, so she thought he would love it. "I can't believe he had no relatives," Uncle Luke broke the silence. "He had a nephew who passed away some four years ago," she replied. "Ooh, that's sad, no offense, but I was expecting some long-lost child of his to pop up to claim something," Uncle Luke stated. Nera chuckled; she also expected that especially since the first time they met they went to a sex party and his day was spent in a strip club fucking. "Well, maybe he knew how to use protection," she replied, surprising him.

he said as he stared at the burning building, and I heard from a distance painful screams from that building. “Grim reaper?” both my mind and mouth asked. I read stories about them from multiple books in my library. He shook his head as he whispered to my ear, “Non, I am Doom and I-“

I stood there for hours, praying to die. Until my neighbor, Mr. Collins, came in the morning to look for Jack. I don't remember exactly what happened. I remember waking up the next day in the hospital. I hated the fact that I was still alive and Jack didn't. I wanted to die more than anything. They had killed my whole life. One shot changed everything. One night changed my life completely. It took more than 6 months before I was able to shake off the incident. I had nightmares every night.

The world should end on a Monday. There’s something honest about that. Brutal, yes, but clean. A Monday already has the emotional texture of damp socks and unpaid bills, so adding zombies feels less like a cosmic betrayal and more like management escalating a complaint. Unfortunately, the world chooses Thursday at 6:17 p.m., while Maya Rodriguez is standing barefoot in her kitchen, trying to decide whether expired sour cream is a negotiable concept. “It smells fine,” Dex says from behind her.

In timing. These souls were not scheduled. They were not substitutions. No balance was redirected to account for their removal. They were taken because Death chose to take them. That distinction matters. “You intervened,” I say. This is not accusation. It is record. Death does not deny it. He stands exactly as he always does when he carries excess, posture steady, attention precise. The markings along his form burn faintly, not fading, not dispersing. Pain contained where it always is. Within him.

she stammered. I stepped into the ward, where Brandon lay under a stark white sheet. Melissa moved to block me, murmuring some excuse about sparing me the pain. However, I was not having any of it. I gently nudged Melissa to the side and drew back the sheet from Brandon's body. There he was, lying on the hospital bed, his cheeks flushed and his face peaceful—hardly the image of a dead man. I shook him and called his name, but he would not stir. Something was off. Without hesitation, I dialed the crematorium. "Hello. My husband has passed, and I need to arrange for his cremation immediately."

I wasn't done with him. "You won't die now. You'll die right in front of everyone who has ever taken you as a good person, as a person with hardly any flaws. They would know you are only a scumbag who would only do anything to get power that isn't yours to have." I called on Adam. He was going to be killed right in front of the amphitheatre. Right in front of the other wolves in Eden City who took him as a fatherly figure. He deserved it. Adam was going to take care of that. Right now, I need to see Nadine.

In simpler words—brainwashing. She was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for treatment. As for Charles, he was sentenced to death for murder. His parents were deeply disappointed in him. They didn't even attend the trial, nor did they visit him on what would be his final day. They simply couldn't face the fact that their son was a failure. I learned all of this from Vincent, as he stood at my grave, telling me the news. I drifted aimlessly for who knows how long before I finally arrived at the old garden, at the gravestone Vincent had set up for me.

she said, but she did stop trying to slam the door. “Listen,” I said, determined to convince her to let me in. “I have bad news.” I peeked through the crack in the doorway so I could watch her painted-up face. “Adam Welling is dead.” The door flew open, causing me to lose my balance and fall face-first onto soft, vanilla carpet. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “Why would you say such a thing?” I pulled myself up, brushed back the strands of hair that had escaped from my ponytail in that graceful dive to the floor. “Because it’s true. I was just at his house this morning. He’s dead.”