Beautiful Deaths Novels & Stories

I cry, "I can't. I can't-I won't." But then my hands betray me, and they begin to crush in on his neck. Once he is dead, I lay on top of him, wondering why I haven't woken yet. His body cools beneath me, his strength and scent fading away with every sweep of the breeze. My tears pool in the center of his chest as it concaves in decay. I don't dare look at his once beautiful face-I'm too scared to see it fall victim to this hell. My skin remains plump but his thins and hangs from his skeleton-withering. Eventually, my eyes remain closed, and I never open them again.

“Your time’s over, Kaya. Just die, you fat, ugly bitch.” The needle pierced my arm before I could fight. I screamed — a weak, fading sound. My vision blurred. The machines shrieked. And then nothing. I couldn’t feel my hands. Or my legs. My heartbeat slowed until it was just an echo. In those last moments, I saw Damon’s face — the day we went to the beach. His hair dripping wet, his smile lazy and beautiful. That was the first time he laughed. That was the last memory I carried into death.

She lay there, with lifeless eyes, staring at the moon behind the windows, Man dies twice, One when his soul leaves the body, And one when he laughs but with tears, this death is the worst death ever. It would have been better if he had killed her alive , sucked her body into pieces, rather to give her agony, ..which she have to swallow all her life. She felt those cruel blows by him, and his bites, looking in the ebony ambiance with fear that he might come again. Touching her skin, she hissed, with her uncontrollably mist shedding down. With a creak sound, the door hung open, revealing Sophia. She walked towards her with a firm attitude saying, " You have to wash yourself!! ". But, Hazel wa

The mother and daughter from the day before really were dead. Dumbo was out wandering when he caught a strange smell and barged into the house. That was how they found them. No one knew exactly when they died, but with the temperature still so high, the bodies had already started decomposing. Even though both women had been beaten black and blue, they still put on their nicest clothes and did their makeup before they died. They looked peaceful, with faint smiles still on their faces. Marcus figured that if they could still smile at the end, maybe they spent their final moments dreaming of life before the disasters.

They were all going to die anyway. The deaths were the hardest to watch. They came in many forms—some quick, some agonizingly slow. The black hail killed instantly, its toxic particles burning through skin and flesh like acid. Clara watched as a woman collapsed in the street, her body convulsing, her screams echoing through the empty buildings. She died within seconds, her flesh blackening and sloughing away like rotting fruit. Others died of exposure, their bodies slowly shutting down as the cold sapped their strength. They grew drowsy, confused, and eventually slipped into a sleep from which they never woke.

I pulled up the video from that online post and showed it to her. Sophia's face turned pale, and she was left speechless. Eventually, she lowered her head and turned to leave, but then she stopped at the door. "Would you believe me if I told you that I never understood how much you meant to me until I lost you?" "It doesn't matter anymore, Sophia. Whatever I felt for you is already gone." Just after I closed the door, the noise came from outside my bedroom. Samantha Carter poked her head out, hair tousled and eyes sleepy. "I can smell the food," she murmured.

With lots of dream in their closed eyes and nightmares that were meant to be forgotten along the path. How tragic it must be for a person to die while all he wanted to do was live? Death can not be beautiful for the people who were left behind to mourn the loss of the died one. It is fucking heart wrenching to go through the memories of them stored in your head again and again, knowing you will never get to make new ones. Death has its own ugliness just like life. Life seems ugly when all we get to face are sorrows, poverty, misery and pain.

Yet here I am walking, looking at all of them as they get covered in white sheets like they’re supposed to be hidden. Being alive almost feels like an insult. And it’s breaking me off bit by bit. But nothing compares to the absolute destruction in my heart when I see Madam Mara laying her head against Candor’s stiff chest, sobbing and clutching the dead man like she wanted to join him. And perhaps she did.

All I could see were dead bodies, massacred bodies of girls drowning in their own blood. Those people whom I heard before were getting closer. I clenched my teeth and walked into that room filled with corpses and closed the door. I stood in the river of blood and shivered. All of the bodies were torn apart. Their flesh was shredded as if they were attacked by wild beasts. Then, I saw Carla lying in the corner of the room. I stepped closer while weeping. I knew she was dead. The skin on her neck was torn off as if she was savagely bitten. I crouched down and closed her still, lifeless eyes. I howled painfully. I could not understand how anyone could do something like that. How could they all

“She was so willing, so warm and alive. Now she is cold and empty because of our gluttony. We should have been more careful.” Damien closed my staring eyes with two gentle fingers, his touch lingering on my cold cheek. “She is still beautiful in death. But this was not what she wanted. We killed the woman who trusted us with her obsession.” I heard every word. Every guilty confession. Every regret. I wanted to scream at them that it was okay, that the pleasure had been worth it, but my dead body refused to obey. I was trapped inside this frozen shell, aware of the cold marble beneath me, the heavy scent of blood and sex still thick in the air, and the overwhelming presence of the five ancien