Dead Novels & Stories

It tries to send the memory through her knees, her hands, her throat. Maya lets it arrive. Then she steps left. The dead follow sound and motion. They do not think. They do not plan. They do not fake low and attack high. They are patient appetite in a ruined suit. “Behind?” she whispers. Clear within twenty feet, LUS says. “Lovely.” The dead man reaches. Maya lets him commit, shifts inside the arc, hooks her foot behind his ankle, and drives the crowbar hard into the side of his knee.

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.

When I finally ran out of desperate words, he steepled his fingers and studied me like a piece of meat on the cutting board. “I can give you the time off,” he said slowly. “Paid. Plus extra for the missed shifts. But nothing’s free anymore, little girl. You know that.” Relief and dread crashed into each other inside my chest. I nodded quickly. “Whatever you want. Just… please.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small black box. Inside was a sleek, teardrop-shaped silicone plug, slightly curved, with a flared base and a wireless remote beside it. It wasn’t huge, but it looked heavy. Sinister.

" Matilda's words got stuck in her throat. Suzie nervously shuddered in her chair, nibbling on a piece of her golden hair. "The first kill is always the hardest," Carlo said reluctantly, taking a sip of wine. "Can we really call it a kill? She... she..." "She was already dead. You're right," Carlo said with a nod. "The infected still seem human. The are walking, moving. That's why the brain registers it as a kill."

I turn another page and my hands go still. The header is in Italian, neat and unhurried. Authorization code, Palermo operation. Beneath it, a string of numbers and letters that mean nothing to me, and beneath that, a date. Two years ago. The date Lorenzo Armenise was killed. And below the date, in the same careful script, a single word. Target. And the target’s surname is Armenise.

It was written in caps lock. HI! IT IS MARIA. UJU IS DEAD. 9 13 9 19 19 21 SEE YOU SOON!

“No Bella, please don’t hang up, I don’t need money. Please Bella, just hear me out.” I didn’t hang up, I froze, the need to hear what was so important that he was calling now after thirteen years. “Your sister is sick. She needs a bone marrow transplant; or she is going to die.” ”

It's just some random number. *Hello, sweetie!* It says. Probably some drunk slut who hit the wrong number. As I want to delete this I get another text. *It's me, Monika. Don't dare to ignore me!* She texted. How the hell did she get my switzgerman number? ... (to be continued)

I am in heaven when my phone chimes. It's a text from Mo. Mo : *Do not G****e Nate. I'm begging you, don't do it until I'm at your apartment tonight* Well, guess what? Like any other kids with super high curiosity, I do what exactly I am told not to. What the .... ****

Maze's "Gab! C'mon! You can't be like this! Haven't you learned your lesson?" Mark and I were waiting for Top outside the bar when we heard Mike scolding a drunk Gab. Kevin and Mike are helping each other to carry him as he is too drunk that he can't even walk properly and just keeps on muttering incoherent words. I looked at Mark and he seemed worried but not about Gab but Mike. I can see Mike and Kevin having a hard time carrying him as he was a big guy.