Angry Grandpa Body Bag Novels & Stories

I appreciate Uncle Brandy, because all this time I thought he was a man who was so open-minded. “You should have warned this woman not to beg. They're making your dad die now, Brandy.” Grandma still uttered a sharp sentence for the two of us. Grandpa had an accident on the road. The limousine he was driving plunged freely into the river. And now Grandpa is still being treated in the intensive room. I don't know what caused the limousine driven by them to plunge into the river. Grandpa's personal assistant suffered a fracture in his left arm and a deep enough cut to the calf from being caught by the glass he broke to save Grandpa. He is now being treated at the Emergency Department and is bei

Greg didn’t bother me, the police had stopped sniffing around me and everything was fine and I managed to go through the days leading up to the funeral. Grandpa wanted to bury her as quickly as possible. He said that it was what she would want and seeing as no one knew her better than he did, we obliged and did everything we could to get everyone out here in time. “Let me help with your tie,” I told him as I made my way into his room. He sighed and let his hand drop as I helped him knot it. His tie was a bright purple color and it was adorned with flowers. I wasn’t sure why he had picked it, it was the only pop of color in his outfit.

He staggered backwards against the infirmary's wall, his face pale and battered. "Dad!" "Grandpa!" Katherine and Rachel entered with teary eyes, embracing Grandpa Hendry's body, which was wrapped in a white blanket up to his head. Cain and Marvin froze, their faces pale. They were as heartbroken as Aleandro. The night should have been filled with joy because it was Grandpa Hendry's birthday, but it was now his death day.

"Right in the center of the salt circle we laid last spring. Silas, we did everything you said." My grandpa didn't answer immediately. He knelt beside the body, his old joints creaking in the silence. He didn't check for a pulse. He didn't look for wounds. Instead, he reached out with a trembling hand and hovered it over the thing’s chest. Then, my grandpa frowned and asked, "The important thing is, is the corpse lying face up or face down?" "Face up," Elias whispered. "Like he’s sleeping." Grandpa’s breath hitched. For the first time in my life, I saw true, unadulterated fear flash across his features. He stood up abruptly, knocking over a nearby stool.

"You, what do you want? I tell you, there are so many people here. You'd better not move. Be careful." Second grandpa is the oldest one here. Now he is also the one who takes the box. Seeing Allen Peterson like this, he threatened. Unexpectedly, as soon as the words were spoken, the people next to him hurriedly shrank back. Just now so many people were not Allen Peterson's opponents. Now there are only a few of them left. Where dare they oppose Allen Peterson? When Grandpa two saw this, he said angrily, "Fifth brother, you are a waste. How can you let this gigolo take away the explosives? Go on! Get the things back."

GrandPa. I quickly ran to the study and slid the door open and found grandpa lifeless on the floor, in his own pool of blood and with a gun in his hand. This wasn't happening. We didn't know he was this depressed. Oh lord No. " GrandPa" I yelled as I knelt beside him. " Dad" Brandon yelled as he came to my side. " GrandPa No" I cried as looked at the hole in his forehead. He killed himself. No, this wasn't happening. My idol. No, No, I couldn't take this. "GrandPa" I screamed louder as I pulled him closer to me. " Dad, No, I can't believe this, Call an ambulance" Brandon called. Why was all this happening to me?. I have already suffered enough. This wasn't fair. Not even a bit.

I stepped back one step. "No, no… sir, wait— He didn't. He walked towards me, as fast as his arthritic legs could manage, and wrapped me in a squeeze hug. He smelled of soap and dry wood. "Thank God you're okay." I glanced at the real Miles, over on the other side of the room, eyes pink-rimmed, fists clenched up. "I brought your favorite," Grandpa said, waving the bag in his hand. "Chicken yam soup. Made it myself this morning."

I barraged the question in fear, my voice shaking in fear. “Calm down, Sheryl. He was okay an hour ago but suddenly fainted in the supermarket while shopping for the groceries.” Uncle Sam answered me in a serious voice. I was now both angry and scared. My grandpa was a good warrior, but he was severely injured while fighting with rogues in the same rogue attack in which my mother died. That day, we lost so many lives and casualties were also too many for the pack hospital, resulting in a delay in the treatment of so many injured people, including my grandfather.

It was threaded through her childhood like a dark cord: the Coles, the company, the dismissal, her father's face the evening he returned home for the last time carrying the cardboard box of his belongings, the way he had set it on the kitchen table and sat across from her in a silence that she, at fifteen, had not known how to fill. She had not filled it. She had made him tea. He had not touched it. She told her supervisor she needed a personal day and she went to the solicitor's office wearing the gray dress that made her feel most like herself — structured, clean-lined, exactly enough. Mr. Adeyemi was apologetic and precise. He explained the will. He explained the condition. He explained,

Grandpa gave me a deep silent look and then shaking his head, he finally answered, “In that awful crash, his car exploded, We found traces of his flesh, and his teeth which proved his death in that crash.” “Which means we never buried him,” I added. “How could we bury a man who got exploded??” Grandpa turned furious, his anger was valid but then, I got a sketch that could subside his anger. “And what if he never exploded, Grandpa? What if Eric was still alive??” I questioned and Grandpa went blank for a moment. “What the hell are you talking about??” He demanded, aggression wrinkling his face further. Without saying a word, I quietly showed him the sketch that Leo sent to me.