Buried Deep And Other Stories Novels & Stories

In my temple, the sacred flame twists sideways, screaming toward the sky like it has been denied something since the First Era. I stand very still. And the whispers begin. “She wasn’t supposed to wake…” “She was sealed…” “She was nothing…” But something has broken. Something that will not mend. The throne that once howled for dominion now howls for war. --- The Deepest Layer of the Vault Beneath even the thrones, beneath law and light, Lies the place where gods are sent to be forgotten. And he is buried there. Not a god. Not a beast.

After some time, he exited the app without sending anything. He then started scrolling on his phone instead. The ground around him was littered with ash and discarded cigarette butts. I could tell that he was deeply unsettled. But what exactly was he so frustrated about? I was gone, and he got to be under the same roof as his dearly beloved. Wasn't this exactly what he wanted? As I stood on the balcony, staring blankly at the moon, the sound of a news broadcast drifted out from somewhere. "The police received a call from passersby. A woman's body was found in the city moat by a local fisherman. The estimated time of death was three days ago. No one has claimed her body yet."

No parent could ever mistake their own child. She knew I had burn marks from when I was young, Jacob had done my ear piercings, and Dad himself had treated my leg injuries. She believed that even if I were reduced to ashes, Dad would still recognize me as his daughter. Dad let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Someone like her doesn't die easily. The worst ones always manage to survive the longest." Ruth furrowed her brows. "But she's been gone for days now. Mr. Eastman said the body has burns on the legs, just like Lina's scars that never healed!"

Just like that, I lost her. *************** **TWO DAYS LATER: BURIAL SCENE** The cemetery was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a cold breeze. I stood before my mother’s grave, staring at the fresh earth that covered her coffin, six feet below. The headstone, etched with her name and dates, gleamed under the overcast sky, a stark reminder of her absence. Anger simmered within me, not at her, but at Alora. She hadn’t come. Or so I thought.

I said as we carried in our third load to the house. He laughed. “She would have been buried in the backseat.” “True, but she’s small.” He laughed. “This is true.”

But somewhere in the distance, an ambulance wailed — and I knew the story wasn’t done yet. Not until the last lie was buried in the same grave as the people who built it.

------------------------------ 2 Weeks later: Bountiful Harvest Kingdom ------------------------------ In the deep of the night within the dark forest, the sound of many night predators and the cricket-like bugs resound. At the thickest part of the woods, there's an unmarked burial site for the people with an insignificant background like beggars or commoners that don't have enough strength to protect themselves from the cultivator or a strong and influential people. There are silhouettes of two people carrying a sack large enough to contain the body of a teenage girl. They bring this sack to the burial ground but just before they enter into the burial ground one of the men dressed in black

"Can't you see how it looks? Please let's just bury it and go away." They agreed, got machetes from the booth of the car, dug a hole, and buried the book. Then they drove away. THE END

His gaze landed on the urn in my arms, and he knew—I was taking my mom to be laid to rest. He scrambled toward me, clutching at my pant leg. "Jess, please—let me come with you. I just want to see Mom one last time." I pried his fingers off and walked out the door without looking back. The burial site was just as the agent had promised—rolling green hills, fresh mountain air, a quiet peace that stretched for miles. My mom had always said the city was too loud, too busy. She used to tell me that when she was gone, she wanted to rest in the mountains, surrounded by beauty.

It felt like someone was clutching my heart when I returned to the cemetery again. Even though I was a soul, I felt suffocated with cold sweat pouring down my forehead. Even my soul form started to thin. Being buried alive was the most horrifying form of torture. The cemetery was a mess when my coffin was opened violently. There was excrement everywhere inside my coffin, and the walls were filled with scratch marks. Those marks were traces of my struggle to survive. Mona could only stand and stare at the coffin blankly due to the horrifying sight. What had she done? She could not believe what she was seeing. She had buried Sean alive for seven days! He had nothing to eat or drink, and could