Again The Living Tombstone Lyrics Novels & Stories

"You must live a long and healthy life, Kendrick." Kendrick's hands shook as he unfolded the slip of paper. He suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit. He spat a mouthful of blood across the paper, smudging the handwriting. He then fell to his knees, his voice completely cracking while sobbing. "I've come back too late, Jasmine…" I was eventually cremated and placed into a small urn. I was laid to rest while it was drizzling. Kendrick collapsed in front of my tombstone, his black suit completely drenched by the rain as he remained completely motionless like a statue. He repeatedly traced my name on the tombstone, the pads of his fingers wearing down to blood, the rain carrying the blood a

He couldn’t recall all of them cleanly, but a few lines returned to him. “On the slab of stone, in the rite of copulation, Tancorix cried; Her and her chosen lover, in torrid passion, both at once died. In the circle of life, death loomed fast on her shade. Until her ashes soul be fed, bled and reborn in a loving maid.”

I traced the lines of the tombstone with my fingers, brushing away the dirt, hoping it might hold a clue about who had been buried here—and who had left the flowers. A howl took my attention and I knew it was Gabe, likely furious that I’d slipped away after his grand speech. The thought made me scoff. His audacity, thinking he could order me around just because he was the Alpha. Sure, maybe I’d have to obey eventually, but I knew exactly where the line was between us, and I was skilled at walking it. Gabe might think he had control, but I wasn;t his to command. Not entirely. I knelt closer to the gravestone, hoping it might whisper some revelation. The cool stone pressed against my palm as I

The music also turns off, leaving a cold, dark, scary space. “Tell me what you want! Don't threaten me." Her voice trembled, tears began to flow, her sobs and sobs sounded harrowing. Amanda ran to the sofa, lowered her head and cried. Suddenly, she sat up straight, wiped her tears, turned on the TV, and the music sounded painfully again. Don't leave me alone. For the insects Weeds cover virgin graves For precarious storms Don't leave me alone. The guardian's lips have no spirit The sound of time groans

“It feels strange if there is no protest from that adorable mouth.” The man behind his back only responded with a little cough, a sign that they had the same thoughts. “Do you still want to be here?” For a moment, the two were silent before finally the crouching man cleared each of the tombstones that read ‘James Hagen’ side by side with ‘Shannon Bridget’. The two identical tombstones were filled with beautiful flowers and looked so fresh, indicating that the flowers had just been placed there. After being satisfied, Hagen stood up. Instantly, he looked up at the sky before finally turning around and his back facing the two tombstones.

She always said that he was the flesh that fell from her heart. “Mom, I am unfilial. If you still have a next life, I'll still be your son." Blake’s hand firmly grabbed the edge of the tombstone, and his fingertip dug deep into the tombstone, leaving behind specks of blood on the surface of it. When he stood up and prepared to leave, he turned his head around. He only saw that frail figure still standing quietly in the rain, looking at him with a pitiful gaze, like a homeless child.

He looked at us, the corners of his mouth struggling to curve upward in a contented smile, then slowly closed his eyes. … Years later, on a hillside behind the mountains of neutral territory, there stood a nameless tombstone. I brought Andrew, now grown into a young teenager, to his grave and placed a bouquet of white roses. "Mom, who's this?" Andrew asked curiously. I gently wiped the tombstone and said softly, "This is a bastard who didn't treasure your mother, but was willing to die for her." I whispered to the tombstone that from now on, all grievances between us were settled. I would have my new life, and I hoped that in his next life, he wouldn't be so foolish as not to recognize his o

But from the silence that’s held me chained to my grief. Tonight, I let myself live again. And God, it feels like coming back from the dead.

Were they afraid I might fall to my death, or were they hoping for it? I was certain it was the latter. I spread my arms wide and with my eyes turning red, I opened my mouth, allowing the winds to carry my words to them down below Let it rain, hail and brimstone, My dead bones has risen, I’ve returned, the unforgiven dead. By ash and bone, by blood and blight, I call the darkness to take its bite. Let sickness rot their flesh and breath, Let every dawn bring closer death. Let fever scorch their brittle veins,

“Living Stones remember everything. They do not filter. They cannot lie.” One elder stepped forward, her voice trembling but strong. “Then we will learn to bear it. Better a heavy truth than an empty silence.” The crowd murmured agreement, though unease lingered. --- That night, Sophia sat alone beside the stones. Rain had begun to fall, drops streaking the clay surface. She pressed her hand against a layered tile. Memory surged through her—Bogotá’s cathedral, Quito’s songs, Caracas’s storm. Grief and resilience twined, inseparable.