Dead Poets Society Neil Novels & Stories

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

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.

"Your daughter's last ashes are with me. Want them? One million cash, and they're yours!" Mom glanced at the bottle and snorted. "Another actor hired by Cassidy. That's not ashes—it's milk powder. I don't care; just dump it." The camera cut to Tammy on the floor. Her eyes were swollen and red, her wails piercing. "Madam! Miss Cassidy died such a tragic death! Please… don't destroy her ashes!" Mom remained silent for several seconds. Fearing Mom might soften, Rachel covered her mouth and cried out, "Mom, you just cut off Sister's living expenses, and now, she's working with outsiders to trick your money!"

In this life, consider it a debt repaid. Finally, on a night one month later, Stellan died. When he went, his lips were still moving. I had to lean close to make out the word. It was Ansel's name. I stood in the doorway of the cell for a long time without speaking. Then, I had his body wrapped in a straw mat and thrown into the common burial ground. It was not an act of cruelty. He simply did not deserve more than that. Daphne died a few days later. She starved to death. From beginning to end, I never went to see her again.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

I wasn’t sure why, but as the vehicle came to a stop and the door opened, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be one of those moments that would change everything. --- We disembarked quickly, our boots hitting the ground with the soft thud of urgency. The air was thick, heavy with dust and the pungent odor of decay. We kept our heads down, moving swiftly through the narrow alleyways and darkened streets. The city had been abandoned for months now, left to rot as the infection spread.

“That was only going to kill him. Maybe parts of you, but only small parts. Tiny little parts that would have also rejoiced in the bloodshed. Sure, Sweet Marie would have died, but Bloodthirsty Marie would have been born. And it would have been something . . . desirable. Something you wanted. Like putting your jaws to a bleeding throat. But this? This will kill all of you. It will kill your soul.” “I don’t care about my soul. I want to know if it will work.” “Don’t do it. Please don’t do it.” If he carried storms in his eyes, she carried desolation in hers. “Don’t you understand that I’m already dead?” “Marie.” “What else can be taken from me? You tell me that. What else can they take?” Lyle

I stood there for hours, praying to die. Until my neighbor, Mr. Collins, came in the morning to look for Jack. I don't remember exactly what happened. I remember waking up the next day in the hospital. I hated the fact that I was still alive and Jack didn't. I wanted to die more than anything. They had killed my whole life. One shot changed everything. One night changed my life completely. It took more than 6 months before I was able to shake off the incident. I had nightmares every night.

BESTIES One week later after Collins and Mary left Prince's house, Collins was shot on his way to work in a company as a gatekeeper. Although he had earned enough from the Will of Prince's parents, but he wasn't an idle man by nature. He loved his job as a gatekeeper and would do it even if he had millions in his bank account as long as he's able to keep a low profile. The assasins who shot him sped off with their car. People around there heard the gunshot and rushed to see the victim and they saw an old man lying in the pool of his own blood.

I feel so stupid right now, does anyone else get this shit? How exactly are we gonna make him, come to us? It might have taken me a short while to get the underlying meaning behind Nikolas's words. My eyes widened and I shot from my seat. I shook my head, "No, No way!" It came out more like a scream. Hell no, I can't go to that extent. I am already at rock bottom. Doing that will only drag me under. "You know it's the best way to get this done." Nikolas said, a glint of accomplishment in his eyes, "If you saw someone from the dead walking around, wouldn't you come out of your hiding cave?"