Burning Ashes Novels & Stories

"Here, even pregnant women were assassinated and the horrifying scene was too much for him to bear." "The air was filled with the stench of blood, making it hard to breathe." "Suddenly, someone gave out an order to set the corpses on fire, and soon, the bodies were ignited as the flames swallowed them." "Then, the unpleasant smell of burning filled his nostrils." "He wanted to do something, but he knew that he couldn't do anything. He could only watch helplessly as the corpses turned into ashes slowly. Just then, a gust of wind blew and it sent the ashes flying as they slowly float towards the sky. It was as if the ashes were vengeful spirits and they were growling and crying in his ear, cau

she confessed, still crying and shaking with fear, and I could feel she was telling the truth. "What can you tell us about the ash?" I asked her, and she bowed her head. "At first, it was meant to cover the atmosphere, but we later found it was feeding off the life of the earth and every living thing. Now they have released new ash that, if inhaled for too long, the victims will turn into those things. It is not only wolves that the Fire and Ash coven is killing, witches too," she said. I stepped away from her and left her crying and shaking on the floor. I looked at Desiree to see if she believed her. Desiree nodded that the girl was being sincere, and I pinched the bridge of my nose out of

Ashes of the Hollow The forest lay quiet now, a heavy, brittle quiet that pressed into John’s chest like ash settling after a fire. The moon hung full and red above the skeletons of trees, their branches snapped, leaves scorched, roots exposed. Black Hollow was burned, not by flame alone but by truth.

He says, unwilling to accept my gratitude. For the next several days, we work tirelessly. Avani never stops and he never complains. He uses his element so that, no matter the state that a body is in, he gets it onto the pyre in one piece. Every night we send burning pyres out onto the lake in my homeland. There are so many that they light up the sky, making it feel like day when it’s late at night. Each night, I say an elven prayer over the dead before we send them off and sing an elvish song as their ashes return to the earth, helping them to find their way.

Then I shoved the remains into a metal bin, struck a match, and toss it inside. The paper curls into ash as hungry flames flicker upward. I watch it burn until nothing remains. I can't wait for all these to be over so that I can finally be done with him.

“But this time… I’m the one with the knife.” She folded the report shut and placed it neatly in her drawer, locking it with a quiet click. Then she walked toward the window and pulled back the curtain. The city was alive beneath her, glittering like a thousand fragile lies. She was done being haunted. She wasn’t going to fall again. She would burn him slowly, elegantly, methodically until he had nothing left but regrets and the ruins of a kingdom he thought he built alone. And this time… She wouldn’t stop until the ashes bore her name.

Inside, it was choked with dust. "Don't worry, Connor," one of his friends had told him during a conversation Samantha had overheard. "We've already set up the timed incendiary. You just need to lure her in and lock the door from the outside. Once it starts burning, she won't be able to get out. Based on the last fire, wait fifteen minutes, then go in and save her. She won't die—maybe just a few burns. But when she sees you coming through the flames, she'll be so grateful and start crying." Samantha had heard it all. And she was ready to let "Samantha" be buried in this fire for good.

"Hang on, Jeanette! I swear I'll get you out of here!" That familiar voice snapped me back to reality and made me break out in a cold sweat. I opened my eyes just in time to see the burnt wooden door—warped from the flames—crash down, missing my face by inches. Terrified, I pulled my mother-in-law, Phyllis Mason, back into the bedroom. "Don't open the windows, Phyllis! That'll just make the fire worse," I said.

When she finally broke through the dirt, heaving for breath, the cool mountain air seared her lungs as she coughed out dirt. Kira sat there for several long minutes, half in and half out of a grave, no one else in sight, the forest surrounding her impossible to see in the dark. “Fuck,” Kira coughed, tiredly shoving at the dirt covering her legs, trying to free them. She brushed dirty fingers against the tear in her neck, wincing at the sting. It was probably a mess of infection right now, but oh well. It would heal. Probably. Kira crawled out of her grave and lay down beside it, staring up at what she could see of the sky through the inky tree branches blotting out most of it.

The gifts may have turned to ashes, but the complexities of our relationship remained, smoldering beneath the surface, impossible to forget or fully extinguish. The crackling flames consumed the offerings, casting a warm glow against the backdrop of the backyard. As the last remnants of the gifts turned to ash, a mix of emotions surged within me—relief, catharsis, and a lingering sadness for what was lost. The gifts may have turned to ashes, but the complexities of our relationship remained, smoldering beneath the surface, impossible to forget or fully extinguish.