Dead Poets Society Audiobook Novels & Stories

No, no, no— “Cute,” the college boy muttered under his breath, voice shaking. “Real funny.” The intercom laughed. A warped, metallic chuckle. [HELL IS IN RECYCLE MODE] it purred. [YOU WILL ENTER DEAD WORLDS FOR THE AUDIENCE’S ENTERTAINMENT.] My throat felt dry. Dead worlds. Audience. “Entertain—” My voice cracked. [PLEASE DIE BEAUTIFULLY,] the intercom finished, delighted.

Damn those heels. @Death Wish

Then reaches for the wrapper, licks a smear of chocolate from the inside, and looks away like she hasn’t seen him do it before. She says nothing. That is becoming a skill. Outside, the city has changed voices. The first day was sirens and screaming. The second was breaking glass, car alarms, distant gunshots. Now there is a quieter sound underneath everything. Shuffling. Waiting. The dead aren’t fast. That’s the one mercy. They gather where noise happens and stay there, patient as unpaid debt.

The ash did not settle; it hovered, a suspended grey shroud that tasted of burnt history and dead miracles. Audrey stood at the epicenter of the ruin, her lungs burning with every breath of the soot-choked air. Beside her, Lucas stood with his weight shifted to his heels, his one hand white-knuckled around the hilt of a rusted infantry sword. The silence following the collapse of the World-Oak was not peaceful. It was the heavy, pressurized silence that precedes a landslide.

"Luna, this is our joint project with Euronia. Study the process. You're coming with me to negotiations next week." I flipped it open. "Va bene." Mamma handed me a cup of warm water. "Don't push yourself. If you don't want this life, I can take care of you forever." "I can handle it, Mamma." I smiled. "If I survived the slums, I can survive this. Especially with you and Papa." I knew one thing. If I wanted freedom from my past, I had to become stronger. Ella Pezzano died in the flames at Costa Estate.

"You'll say anything, won't you? "And on top of that, Scarlett was busy working. You're trying to pin this on her? "Are you even human?" Seth chimed in as well. "Exactly. We don't even know if this person actually died or not, and yet he's pulling this stunt to scare everyone."

"I couldn't follow a lot of it today. I think I'll ask one of my professors to help me download a full copy once I'm back home. I'd really like to study it properly." She didn't have access to the paper right now. It would either need to be purchased or pulled through her professors. And truthfully, she was curious about the mysterious author behind it. "Yeah, it's got solid academic value. You should take a closer look," Jayson said as he withdrew his gaze and stood up. … Steven Pollard was a professor of applied sciences at Hillford University, with a broad range of research spanning into bioengineering. He was one of the most renowned figures in the field internationally.

It was like I could hear what they were saying. "Your suffering begins now," I heard a strange voice whisper in my ear. "Welcome to hell, Rey Reed of Smith." Then I heard the strange female voice again. I can feel my heart beating faster. I can feel my soul getting ready to desert me again if anything unexpected happens. My mom has told me the tales of the witch and the wizard. The same goes for our pastor. He always said something about Jinns, ghosts, and night-walking spirits. The voice made me remember a verse our pastor used as a sermon in the bible the last time I attended the evening bible study that always takes place every Tuesday.

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

DAWN’S POV I was seated in the throne room, watching as the elders and gammas of my pack whispered among themselves, unable to believe that their alpha was dead. I assured them that he was dead, but they demanded to see his body. "I want to see his body! How can we believe he is dead without seeing his body?" one of the gammas said, with a tinge of desperation in his voice. "You don't need to see his body. Trust me, he's dead," I replied with a cold tone, trying to hide my smile.