Buried Deep And Other Stories Novels & Stories

“He believed they should leave behind truth.” She pointed toward the nearest coffin. “Each one protects a final confession.” Isaac slowly approached the blank coffin. His fingertips brushed the aged oak. “I helped build these.” Alexander looked at him. “You built coffins?” Isaac smiled sadly. “No.” “We built vaults shaped like coffins.” “To remind ourselves that every secret should eventually be buried.” A sharp metallic click echoed through the chamber. The blank coffin unlocked itself. Its lid rose slowly. Everyone instinctively stepped back. Inside…

The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, casting fractured patterns on the floor — much like my thoughts, splintered and jagged. I sat at the small kitchen table, clutching my cup of cold coffee, staring at the leather-bound book *Reflections of the Forgotten* open before me. The stories inside weren’t just tales — they were warnings, lessons written in sorrow and hope. Women who had lived as shadows, trapped in lives borrowed from others, fighting to reclaim their own reflections.

--- The ride to Silverdeep took six days. Along the way, they passed five abandoned villages. Two were burned. One was painted in blood. In another, a child wandered alone,no memory, no name, her eyes void black. They brought her with them. Veera sat with the girl every night, whispering stories. Lyra kept her distance. The girl’s presence echoed. Something about her blood sang too closely to Lyra’s own. They reached Silverdeep on the seventh night. And what they saw stopped their breath. The burial grounds had been unearthed. The earth was torn, clawed open from the inside. Massive runes—old and twisted—burned in the soil. A gate stood in the center of the valley, iron and bone welded toget

came running back, slightly out of breath. Completely unaware of the situation, he reported loudly, almost proudly, "Mr. Smith! It's done! Just like you ordered, I dumped the old lady into the septic tank behind the hill. Fast and efficient!" Hearing that, the last thread of sanity in Nash's mind snapped. "What… what have I done…" He grabbed his head with both hands, collapsing like a wounded animal, crying out in despair. Watching him like that, I felt nothing. No sympathy. No pity.

"We were never a thing. We cut off all ties with each other a year after you left. I heard she married a businessman and got pregnant not too long after. But her husband cheated on her, and the mistress abused her until she had a miscarriage. "Her womb was removed, and I've never heard from her again." The story didn't stir anything within me. Honestly, it sounded as if it had happened to a stranger instead of someone I used to call my best friend. So, I gestured to the door and asked him to leave. "It's getting late. You should leave."

He buried his cock into me, releasing his semen deep into my cunt. As he pulled out, my body slumped onto the floor, completely exhausted. "Clean yourself up, slut. That's no way to dress as a secretary." Mr. Carson chuckled like he'd just uttered a joke only he knew, walking back towards his desk while I sat at the entrance of his office, naked with cum dripping out of my cunt.

"A man of your standing, Lord Alaric... I can hardly imagine anyone being foolish enough to take anything from you. Or perhaps, you simply misplaced it." A tight, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't a smile of warmth; it was the look of a predator who had finally cornered its prey and was enjoying the frantic struggle before the strike. "Oh, it wasn't misplaced. It was buried. Deep beneath the soil where everyone thought it would turn to dust. But the thing about bad seeds is that they always find a way to grow back towards the light, no matter how much dirt you throw over them." The breath caught in my throat. The metaphor was too precise, the delivery too deliberate

She had learned its rhythms, mapped its exits, pressed folders behind maintenance files and moved photographs from corkboards and counted forty-second camera loops in her head. She had been buried. She was standing. The kettle clicked off. She poured the cups. Outside the window the gardener disappeared around the far corner of the hedge and the grounds were empty and still and the gate stood open at the bottom of the drive in the pale October light. Just open. Just hers.

I was three months along and had planned to tell Simon during the marking ceremony, but it seemed impossible now. Three nights ago, I died with my pup. The bathroom in that old estate had long been abandoned. Water, electricity—everything was cut off. When I was locked in, the faucet valve broke and started leaking water. At first, I tried to fix it, but the liquid burned my hands and began to rot my skin. That was when I realized that it wasn't normal water. It was mixed with silver nitrate. As an Omega, I didn't have the ability to self-heal. The silver ate through me faster than I could imagine. I pounded on the door, screaming for help.

"Move!" We climbed as fast as we could. Behind us, the sound of collapsing stone grew louder. The air filled with dust, making it difficult to breathe. Just as we reached the steel hatch above... It burst open. Fresh air rushed inside. Security officers from the surface pulled us out one by one. The moment I reached the grass, I collapsed onto my knees, coughing violently. Alexander emerged seconds later. The last guard climbed out just as part of the tunnel caved in behind him. The entrance disappeared beneath tons of earth. It was gone. Whatever secrets lay beneath Crowns Mansion had just been buried.