Dead Man Walking Novels & Stories

The only difference between us is that I have been dead for two months, or should I say suffering and wandering around an unknown realm for two months, while Lazarus's own is just three days. "How are you feeling?" I inquired of them, my gaze moving around their bodies one by one. "Can you walk?" I said again, jolting them out of their thoughts. "You have to find your way out now. I will meet you outside." I said, more in a commanding tone. "We are not leaving without you," Kira finally replied, but I ignored her. Sauntering towards Vee and Manuel, I asked. "If I find any means of transportation for you, do you still have the strength to drive?"

she stammered. I stepped into the ward, where Brandon lay under a stark white sheet. Melissa moved to block me, murmuring some excuse about sparing me the pain. However, I was not having any of it. I gently nudged Melissa to the side and drew back the sheet from Brandon's body. There he was, lying on the hospital bed, his cheeks flushed and his face peaceful—hardly the image of a dead man. I shook him and called his name, but he would not stir. Something was off. Without hesitation, I dialed the crematorium. "Hello. My husband has passed, and I need to arrange for his cremation immediately."

Everyone who will see her will be all like this "Fuck!" "Oh God!" "Don't kill her" Heark coldly commands them. "The hell dude! even if you say I'll kill her I can't" Gavin said. "What happened, I can't believe Mygod Lord" Mr.Bergsman who is now cross signing. A woman full of blood, red eyes and not wearing anything on her feet while still staggering. Basically all Red Eyed Dead have this form and way of walking. They looking her with a sorrowful, regrets emotions on their faces.

Six months after I died, Serena Beckett came back to the cemetery looking for me. The wind blowing was cold and biting. I floated above my grave, watching her charge over in her high heels, her face pale and ashen. "Jason Shaw! Get out here!" She shoved aside a staff member trying to stop her and dug her nails deep into my photo on the tombstone. "William Clark needs a kidney right now. You're going to donate it, whether you want to or not! What kind of stunt is this? Hiding here and playing dead?"

My left leg bent the wrong way. Blood kept spreading under me. It had to hurt. But I couldn't feel anything anymore. "Someone got hit!" "Don't move her! Wait for the paramedics!" "Oh my God... she's just a kid..." Voices came from everywhere. I could hear again. The driver stumbled out. He looked maybe forty, wearing a faded puffer jacket. He rushed over, but his legs gave out. He dropped to his knees, hitting the icy pavement with a dull thud.

She kept on mumbling and muttering as though there was a never-ending stream of confessions she wanted to make. "Finn, let's not ever meet again in the next life. Find a nicer woman, one that's a million times better than me. I owe you this. In our next lives, I'll make it up to you…" I drifted before her, reaching out as though to stroke her hair. However, my fingers went through her body. Ah, yes. I had died five years ago. I could no longer touch anything or hold anyone.

Whatever warmth had been left in his eyes was now completely gone. "Let's just pretend we never had a son like you, you ungrateful bastard. "My only son is already dead. You killed him." He waved his hand wearily, as if every last bit of strength had been drained out of him. "Get him out of here." "No—!!!" Roger's scream was dragged out into the rain until it faded completely. Casey stood perfectly still, her face unreadable. Only when his voice had disappeared did she slowly turn and walk toward the exit.

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.

"Ms. Walker? Are you not feeling well?" He crouched a little and lightly patted Ariel's shoulder. At the same time, Liam felt a sense of disbelief as he directed his gaze to the sign displayed on the wall of the oncology department.

Her body convulsed once, twice, then exploded into dust. Gone. Just like that. The sound that came out of me wasn’t even human. I slapped my hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut, but it didn’t matter. The image burned behind my eyelids—her vanishing mid-step, her clothes disintegrating before they even hit the ground. The Game Master chuckled. “Precision, my dears,” it let out. “Precision is everything.” The next name flickered. “Number 0449.” A man this time. Big, broad-shouldered, maybe in his thirties. He muttered something under his breath and stepped up.