Dead Man Review Novels & Stories

He is a handsome demon. I couldn’t understand how a human could be that terribly charming, that you can’t glance at him without drooling yet so ruthless. He didn’t need weapons to kill anyone, he did that by just thinking it in his mind. I can’t imagine bringing myself to kill him. Daman is powerful, he is ruthless, he is immortal. Do I really have to kill him to express me anger? What if it doesn’t work out, what will he do with me? Everyone knows no weapon can pierce him.

It laughed so hard that even some of the crying stopped — people freezing mid-sob, stunned by the sheer insanity of the sound. I could feel it vibrating through my chest, every note cutting through my ribs. When it finally stopped, it wiped an invisible tear from the corner of its eye and said, still chuckling, “Have you forgotten?” Its grin twisted. “You’re also dead.” The man’s mouth fell open. “W-what?” he whispered, barely audible. The Game Master leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Dead,” it repeated, dragging the word out like a lover’s whisper. “Every single one of you. Including you. You died. You’re not alive.”

I hovered around her, quietly watching this scene. I really did not understand. I was dead. What was the point of her doing all this? So that she could be moved by her own actions? Or was she trying to lighten her guilt? I realized that I did not know her at all. Even after my death, I still did not know her. It was not until the evening that Nate grimly kicked the door open and stuffed my urn into her arms. "I finally know why you and Jason are together. You two are equally nuts! Just get lost!"

“His scanner is calibrated to the ambient temperature of the wet concrete. If you drop low, the cold water of the puddle will mask your thermal signature for exactly two seconds before his display recalibrates. The guard on your right is off-balance. He’s putting too much weight on his right heel to avoid slipping in the clay.” A slow, chilling wave of absolute clarity washed over my mind. The panic, the tears, the desperate wife who had begged him to live in that closet —all of it vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating void of the Ghost. "Which one has the radio?" I whispered under my breath, making it look like a quiet, desperate prayer to the men in front of me.

Jade and I slowed as we rounded the next corner. We peered around the corner of the shipping container and spotted Balor holding a fat man in the air. A fat leprechaun of a man I wanted to watch bleed. "She's dead. As dead as the mutt, you claimed to be your grandfather. Her scream was so euphoric. The blood that painted her skin was wonderful." I ground my teeth as Leon continued to lie about me. The sound of his nasally voice brought a smirk to my lips. The sick bastard deserved that broken nose.

He said nothing but something in his eyes told me that he already knew. "It was your dear mother, it's funny you know... because I thought she was dead." My tone changed, losing the fake playfulness it held moments ago, a frown creased my forehead, "Wasn't she?" I pressed my palms on both sides of the handrest and leaned forward, "You see, when I kill someone, they're supposed to stay dead." I rolled my eyes, "But for some reason, all the dead people in my life somehow come back to life and they make their way into mine and screw it up."

With their guns at the ready, they stormed the room only to be welcomed by a horrendous sight. “Quick, check if he’s alive,” Thane ordered after making sure that no one else was there. He knew it was impossible, what with all the blood that painted the floor and walls. It was almost unbelievable that it all came from one person. Damon cautiously approached the body of a man dangling on a hook two feet from the ground. Taking two fingers to the person’s neck, the soldier felt nothing. “No pulse, Sir.” The man was covered in cuts varying in size with some parts of his skin hanging. What’s remaining was a bullet-plastered, crimsoned figure of what used to be human. “God, it was like he was used

Her lifeless eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at him. Conner turned away, fighting to control the nausea roiling in his stomach. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose. The dead man would turn out to be a drug dealer, Conner knew, a low-life whose death would be no great loss to anyone. But the woman was different. She had been killed, her body mutilated, simply because that was how it had been done on a stupid television show. Her death was obscene, an abomination, a cry against everything civilized. Some faceless scriptwriter penned a gruesome incident in a stab for ratings, and an innocent woman had died and been defiled because of it.

After she killed us, Keyla stuffed our bodies into dirt-crusted sacks and tossed us in a sewage ditch. Rain took care of the evidence. If some random scavenger hadn't caught a whiff, we might've stayed lost forever. I wanted to see Edmond's reaction. He pulled on his lab coat and gave a quiet, solemn nod to the corpses. It was the first time I watched him work. First time I saw how he could talk to a corpse for hours but couldn't even say "I'm tired" to me. Like I was some kind of poison that made him shut down.