Afterdeath Ship นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The face was all scratched up, and anything on her body that could prove her identity was taken away, so we suspect it's an intentional murder. Hearing that the body was salvaged from Salakole, Winston paused for a moment, then he put on his sterile gloves with a poker face. I floated in mid-air, staring at the man in front of me. Three years... It had been three years since I died. After I died, my soul was trapped in Salakole, suffering in the fierce wind and freezing weather all day. Until someone found me, they brought me back. But I didn't expect that Winston was the person who would personally dissect me.

My death, the concealment of my death from the world, and the perfect hiding for the murderer… "Alright, I get it." She reached out to wipe the tears from her face and returned to the elegant look. "I will remember that." Charles and Derek were relieved to see that. I was watching everything that happened from the side. It did not matter to me. I knew long ago that they did not love me. Even so, why did my heart still hurt? The next day, Susan went to the crematorium alone and collected my ashes. She did not go home directly but went to the orphanage where I was found.

He held onto Sofia, swimming as hard as he could, pushing them out of the ship’s path. Above them, the storm raged, the ship’s propellers slicing the water like monstrous blades. They had to keep moving. Just then there was an explosion. Even underwater, Adam felt the impact. A shockwave tore through the ocean, a deep, thunderous boom shaking them from below. He turned his head just in time to see a massive fireball erupt above, engulfing the ship in a violent inferno. Slade’s ship, gone. For a moment, the sea around them lit up in hues of orange and red, flames dancing over the wreckage. The heat, even beneath the surface, was suffocating.

My fingers were covered in frostbite because of it. "Trying to please me, huh? Fine, you succeeded. If you donate bone marrow to Caleb now, you'll be my best daughter for the rest of your life," Mom said. Before my death, I would have dreamed of hearing those words. But now, it didn't matter anymore. After all, she couldn't find me. I was already dead. … April 9th, 2025. Cloudy. The 99th day after my death. In the past few days, I had seen them search every corner of the town. Every blade of grass in the park, every alleyway, and every trash can had been searched.

Woods said a quick, silent prayer, hoping that the big southern girl didn’t freeze her ass off on her way up to the Pearly Gates. Thirty simple seconds tick-tocked on by, and despite the electric crackle of expectancy in the air, Mama Metcalf remained well and truly dead. Even her blood had stopped flowing, ruby diamonds on a cigarette-butt strewn patch of land. The old woman across from her, Wanda Mabry, would also never move again. Her index finger was curved inwards as though still depressing an invisible trigger that shot invisible bullets of hatred at a sky that would never die. Sirens sung in the distance. When the hospice alarm was activated an automatic call out was prompted to the f

And that pain, and her love, were stronger than anything else on that goddamn boat. Jeannine leapt at Papa Nightmare using her one good leg and drove the machete through his open mouth and out the back of his skull. The noise of battle ceased around them. The undead soldiers from long ago melted into the decking of the Sultana. The ship itself began to disintegrate as spectral planks gave way to rushing water. “Go!” screamed Curtis. The ghost ship rocked as its boilers exploded. With Papa Nightmare dead, there was nothing to hold the ghost ship together. Time was suddenly catching up with the old ship. The Sultana was reliving its death by fire from over a century ago.

“Four minutes left. Let us go.” Four whole minutes pass and the one lone scout upon the hill of the six-mile mark has been torn to shreds like a wild animal has ripped it apart from limb to limb. Its stomach is opened, seeping out of its origin. Its face is torn up so badly that she is unrecognizable. The trident that was once the foundation upon which she built a soldier’s life upon is broken in two. Catarina stands at the apex of this hill that overlooks most, if not all, the wildlands. Her mouth is covered in blood. The same liquid coats the neck and upper breast of her armor. Norvin is off to the side kneeling down and scoping the area before them. In the distance, far from their positio

"Mom, he's amazing." "He's a child who survived," I said. "Just like you." Jaden thought about that. "Am I amazing?" I pulled him close. "Yes. You are." An hour later, we saw it. A cargo ship. Huge. Rusted. Listing to one side. It had run aground on a reef years ago and been abandoned. Now it sat tilted, half-submerged, like a dead whale. Miro surfaced beside the boat. "They're inside," he said. "In the belly. They don't come out much."

Every passing second shredded his nerves. "Please… don't take her away…" That was when he finally understood that the greatest punishment wasn't death, but living on. He had to carry on with endless regret in a world where I no longer existed. After some time, the resuscitation efforts finally stopped. The doctor stepped out and shook his head with regret. "I'm sorry. We did everything we could." In that moment, Salvatore's world collapsed.