Dead Voices Novels & Stories

I ate and listened to him. "Within the Death Ministry, only Grim can enter. There are only two types of grim that are the Council and the Reapers. The Grim Council are the ones who bring death notes from superiors to be sent to Grim Reapers like me, where we have to fetch the soul of the person written there. When we do not get them at the right time and place, they can escape and just add to the missing souls. In 40 days we should reap them otherwise they will be like the lost soul you saw yesterday. Dark and evil. " I nodded as a sign that I understood him.

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.

He bit his bottom lip, then slowly looked at the place behind me. “I’ve never done it to someone who is already dead” he muttered “m-my others were killed by one of yours. I need them.” “I’ll help you” I smiled to him “Soul Stealers have to stick together, remember?” Tears ran down Cosmo’s face before his face split into a smile. His wide eyes blindly surveyed the death dangling above him as he deeply inhaled the toxic gas, a cloud of it wafting out his nostrils when he exhaled. He held his arms out wide as he walked amongst the bodies around him, dripping his virus onto their dissolved remains.

The Totality is standing between my two selves still offering forced merge. The Collectors are waiting for answer about archiving me. And the Council’s three angry members are counting down to Reset with satisfaction. “Two days and twenty hours remaining,” they announce. Then something shifts in the gap that makes Anna gasp. “The three thousand dead are moving,” she says with shock. “All of them at once, unified in purpose.” I look through Death’s Keeper awareness and see it happening, the three thousand souls I anchored as Void-Dead, who I protected as Death’s Shepherd, all rising with singular intent.

The sky was red with toxic mist, and the ground pulsed like living flesh. "The second is The Whispering Void. A psychological world. It attacks your mind directly, bypassing physical defenses entirely. It shows you your fears, your failures, your worst possible futures, and it makes them feel absolutely real. You'll experience every trauma you've ever suppressed, every nightmare you've tried to forget, every anxiety amplified to unbearable levels. Deadies have been known to go completely, irreversibly insane within minutes of entering. You'll need to cross it in four hours while maintaining your sanity and sense of direction in absolute darkness."

When our whole family saw the death timer for my sister will end on her sixteenth birthday, she became the most important person in the family. She suddenly took priority in everything, from food to dresses, and even bedtime stories. I felt for her, but I was also jealous that she was given everything. However, a day before her sixteenth birthday, my parents locked me up in the storeroom in fear that I would make a mess of things. I kept hammering the door, crying, "Mom, let me out! I'm having a fever, and my head hurts!" Mom didn't believe me. "Just stop! Your sister will die in just a day, and you're playing sick to gain our sympathy?! Don't you understand anything?!" "No…" I tried m

A hush befell the scene. No one could let out a single sound at that moment because everyone’s mouths were so wide open that extra large-sized bowls could be fit into them. They had never thought that Mr. Ritz, a Rank 8 Evolved One, would die just like that. 'Death Arena, Death Arena! ‘A ghost has been added to the underworld, while Dicky Ritz is gone for good in the real world.' On the other hand, Lucas' stunning face was still composed as if nothing had occurred.

There were no emotions, the endless whirlpool of swirling death was like a bizarre dream. After an incredibly long time, Vic raised his head, listened to the rustling emptiness. He looked around incredulously, feeling quite alive. A desert of ashes reigned around, very close, a gentle breeze fanned heaps of black particles lying in the shape of human bodies - all that was left of the decapitated delonhs whispered something softly.

He doubles over, and I take the opportunity to land an elbow to the back of his neck making him drop to the floor. “Are you ready to die like your friend?” I ask. “Fuck you bitch. You can’t win against our army. Scàthach will triumph and you will all die.” “Ew, can we not do the villain monologue? It’s so annoying and cliché.” I say before I extend my claws and rip his heart out through his back. That was seriously badass and gross, all at the same time. Hey, he’s dead, his friend is dead, and Wyatt is dead. That’s all that matters.

Once it told her where she could find the rest of her daughter. “In gullets,” it had said. “Building the bones of strong animals. Feeding the universe. Decaying with the leaves.” “That’s lovely,” she had told the voice in her dream, and then it wrapped around her neck like a lover’s hands and tried to strangle her. “I’m back,” she answered him now. “You ran off so quickly before that I wasn’t sure I would see you again.” Casual. Nonchalant. Simply a murderer unknowingly talking to his victim’s mother, after all. A warm sunny day in the poor district of the city.