Dead Time Stories Novels & Stories

The smell of rotting flesh seem to seep out of the coffin. In the end, we had to have a closed burial for him. ++++++++++ Death offers us so many tnrills and chills. And in most cases, it's not even personal experiences that drive us a bit off the edge when we hear those stories. But again, I would like to remind you that some of these stories may or not be real, but it is the absolute truth for those who shared those tales. So once again, I bid you farewell from The Supernatural Spa, dear reader. This has been your Storyteller, The Diwata, saying goodnight and we hope to see you soon. Fare thee well...

I swallowed, taking another drag as I wracked my brain, trying to think if I had read or heard any of those stories. “How did he find that? I have never heard that story,” Sabastian said, taking a drag himself as Hunter scratched his beard. “That’s because this story isn’t from our time, not even this century. As far as he can tell, the story dates back over 5,000 years.” I swallowed as all three of us turned to look at the woman lying dead on the bed. None of us dared to even breathe. She looked so preserved you would never know how old she was. “Fuck,” I muttered.

The morgue was cold, carrying a foul, sterile smell. Expressionless staff pushed me into a metal drawer. With a soft "click," the door closed. The system's voice echoed in my mind. [Death confirmed. Final storyline completed.] [Countdown to soul departure: 71 hours 59 minutes.] [Please await the opening of the passage.] I drifted in the cold, hollow air and let out a breath. Finally, things were coming to an end.

The wedding photos on the wall, the carefully preserved family portraits—everything I once treasured—went straight into the trash. It was already past midnight by the time I finished cleaning up and lay down to rest. But just as I fell asleep, a loud crash jolted me awake.

I know that magic is just an illusion, a trick. Dusting my clothes, I made my way toward my team. They had now assembled themselves in one place, their eyes still holding surprise, and I could guess that they were waiting for me to explain. The crowds were as silent as a graveyard. They weren't making any of their stupid noises, and I am sure they were still trying to recover from the shock of seeing me again. That made me remember a story in the Bible that our Sunday school teacher told us about. It was the story of a man named Lazarus who was resurrected from the dead. The only difference between us is that I have been dead for two months, or should I say suffering and wandering around an

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

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.

Half a month had passed since I last saw him, so I already missed him dearly. However, as soon as I arrived at the airport, I ran into Quinton and Zachary. They both had sullen expressions, but their faces lit up immediately when they saw me. "Mom! I knew you would come! Are those tarts for me? Thank you for these!" Zachary eagerly snatched the box from my hand. Quinton said coldly, "I told you the deadline was before three o'clock. Do you know what time it is right now? You should learn a thing or two from Lynn when it comes to timeliness!"

As I do so, a strange explosion fills my stomach, triumphant that finally there's a replacement of Jordan Crown's beauty. A bit skips as our hands intertwine. Time seems to tick beyond count and age blurs into each other. The entire universe collapsed back to BigBang and was reborn. Stars and planets dies and scatters into the dark nothingness. For these five seconds of staring, nothing else holds significance. Just two windows and a gaze into a moment. Nothing else. Just a stare before the explosion. “Keila Taylor.” We shake hands.

Scarlett refused, saying she had an important client meeting with Chase at the time and did not have time to deal with it. Left with no choice, I called an ambulance myself and asked a neighbor for help getting Grandma to the hospital. It was because of that delay that after several hours in the operating room, Grandma ultimately did not make it. Her only thought before closing her eyes was seeing Scarlett one more time to tell her the chowder was ready. Afterward, I discovered that the hotel Chase and Scarlett had checked into was right next to our house, less than 300 feet away. If Scarlett had spared even a moment of her time, Grandma might have survived.