Dead Time Stories Novels & Stories

After suffering three miscarriages for the sake of my husband, Xavier Lowe, I started seeing something no one else could—the death countdown hovering in front of people's hearts. The crimson numbers, ticking away in hours, days, and years, were as clear as day. It made my husband's family look at me like I was some kind of monster, especially after I accidentally blurted out the exact time that would later be Xavier's sister's death. At the time, they just laughed it off and didn't think much about it.

he continued, "the eight minute mark is the period in which death flashes before your eyes; when the time is up or eight minutes has passed, you are physically declared deceased. Nothing is able to bring you back, unless in such a case as this, it's a miracle!" "Well I'm glad you think so; I couldn't imagine what I'd do without her," she then whispered, "Brit & Tom would be so angry." The dad nodded at her words. "Hm? Did you say something?" The doctor asked. The mom shook her head and I exited the scene; I've already wasted too much time here, but being in this plane sped time up. I looked at Thanatos and he said nothing, only giving me a knowing nod. I returned to my kingdom and walked int

Timothy Yeager is the sole successor of Caelumis, the most powerful force of Efral. He has billions of dollars in inheritance and countless subordinates! On this day, he returns to civilization with the marriage contracts his mentor has set for him so he can keep his promise and protect his fiancées. However, as soon as he gets home, most of his fiancées call off their engagements to him. "Do you think you're worthy of marrying someone from the Barton family when you're so useless?" "How can the daughter of the Lynde family marry a peasant like you? It's a humiliation to her!" "Today, we're gathered here to annul the marriage contracts with a loser like you!" "You're dreaming if you thi

Chaos sighed as his apartment was deafeningly silent before he added, “Theresa was my first love…” She faced him angrily, “How many times do you have to rub those words on my face?!” She angrily yelled. “She… she had died,” Chaos confessed, his voice cracking. The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling confirmation of Florence’s worst fears. Theresa, the ghost of the past, was not just a distant memory. She was a part of his life, a love that had tragically ended.

I still couldn't understand what I had ever done to deserve all of this, even after I was sent down to a stockpen used as a holding cell in the Great Barren North. I held on and pulled through, thankfully. I spent 20 years paying off those debts, and right when I thought I could get a fresh start in life, I unexpectedly ran into the three people who were supposed to be long dead. Instead, they were happily talking and laughing together. I was overwhelmed by disbelief as I rushed forward to confront them. However, they were afraid that their fake deaths would be exposed, so they drove over me with their car. Heaven had fortunately granted me mercy, though.

He took one, walked back, and knelt before the ashes. “Little sister…” He closed his eyes. “I’m coming to be with you.” The silver dagger plunged into his heart. Caleb and Noah followed. I watched the absurd scene, finding it almost laughable. Even in death, they could never repay what they did to me. Three bodies fell to the ground, their blood pooling into a river. Soon, three transparent souls floated up from their bodies. And then they saw me. Ethan rushed towards me, ecstatic. “Freya!”

Back. _Thump._ “Always,” Adrian said. “Always,” I said. _Silence. 12:01 AM._ They slept. Finally. 3 years old. And 11 seconds. Stayed dead. And Reese. Stayed nothing. And the _AFTER_ box. Stayed closed. On shelf. With _SORRY_. With _R_. With bracelets. With 7. And us. Stayed.

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.

Tubes, machines, electric shocks, desperate hands pressing on unmoving chests. Dave’s heart stuttered, returned, and then failed again. Rachel’s pulse flickered weakly, then faded into silence. The doctors didn’t stop. Not until the exhaustion showed in their movements. Not until the monitors flatlined and stayed flat, the beeping replaced by a long, merciless tone. Finally, one doctor whispered the words everyone dreaded. “Time of death: 2:17 a.m. Rachel Williams.” Minutes later. “Time of death: 2:24 a.m. Dave Marshall.”

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.