Dead Woman Crossing Novels & Stories

The sun was setting behind the city wall, painting the houses and streets in bloody tones that mingled with long shadows. The people looked like the living dead, behind each of them trailed black melting smoke. They were sick and dying, and nothing could help them. Deya walked among them, barefoot, dressed only in a linen shirt. Her loose blond hair was tousled and confused by the unfriendly wind. It was cold, she hugged her shoulders chillily and tried to call out to one of the people, but they did not hear her. She couldn't make out their faces.

Her lifeless eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at him. Conner turned away, fighting to control the nausea roiling in his stomach. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose. The dead man would turn out to be a drug dealer, Conner knew, a low-life whose death would be no great loss to anyone. But the woman was different. She had been killed, her body mutilated, simply because that was how it had been done on a stupid television show. Her death was obscene, an abomination, a cry against everything civilized. Some faceless scriptwriter penned a gruesome incident in a stab for ratings, and an innocent woman had died and been defiled because of it.

She was dead. The group parted and Mor’s leg shook as the top-dog walked through, hands pocketed. She could barely make out the woman in the dark, but there was only one woman in Santa Martha who had that frame. Without hesitating, Mor slashed forward, only to have a hand knock into her neck.

Maybe when I get my first client, I’ll revert back to playing the perfect wife once again. The mall was just on the other side of this crossing. I stood at the crossroad as I waited for the crossing signal to turn green. Suddenly, in the corner of my eye I spotted an old lady walking along as if she was oblivious to the oncoming traffic. I wasn’t sure if she couldn’t see very well or if she couldn’t hear but what I knew for sure was that it was extremely dangerous. As I watched her, I realized that she was about to cross the road with all the oncoming traffic.

Without money, their lives quickly fell into ruin. Eventually, desperate to return to the luxurious lifestyle she once had, Queenie resorted to taking out nude loans. But the contact information she left behind was all Lucas's. One night, a group of debt collectors stormed into their rented apartment and beat the sleeping Lucas half to death. Before leaving, they even took the bank card that the two had spent months saving money in. At last, Lucas snapped. Grabbing a kitchen knife, he rushed into the room and stabbed Queenie to death. Afterward, he turned himself in at the police station.

In the end, she failed to hold on and fainted. "Mom!" "Sophia!" While they panicked, I walked towards the cell phone Mark had dropped. The screen was showing a still image from a video. Although some parts of it were censored, I could tell right away that it was the Carpenters' living room. It was the place where I had died. The video captured gory footage of Caleb beating me violently. At the end of the video, when Caleb stopped, the attentive viewers noticed that the body of the victim, who was me, didn't move at all. In fact, my chest no longer rose and fell.

At least somebody. The dead man grabbed her shoulder with his teeth, tears rolled down the cheeks of a rather young woman, pain mixed with horror splashed in her wide-open eyes. The staff that fell from her fingers was picked up by a teenager and tried to push the half-decayed corpse away from the victim.

Nichole asked while we all are walking through the narrow road that covered with full of scrubs. "Maybe tomorrow or day after tomo-" I stopped when I notice the bunch of crows was flying around the particular area. "Guys! Did you see this?" I pointed my finger to the crows. "So, what?" Emiem asked casually. Ignoring their questions as to where are you going? I walked towards the area and find the dead body of an old lady, not any old lady but the woman I met yesterday whose body was scattered everywhere except her head. We looked at each other face, dread overwhelmed our body and I gulped down my own saliva, find it very hard to swallow.

The cold breeze ruined my hair while I and my daughter Taly crossed the bridge away from our home. My husband Greg died because of drunkness. He falls on this bridge while going home. He left us with nothing but his huge debt from two lending companies. Taly was only one year old and the only thing that covered her body was the thick jacket I bought one year ago.

But then the details came. The footprints. The woman. The sea obeying her like a trained beast. Becky’s smile froze. “Repeat that last part,” she said slowly. The council scribe hesitated. “Witnesses claim… she walked across the water.” Becky stood so fast her chair scraped loudly across the stone floor. “No,” she said. “No. That’s not possible.” Kion frowned. “Sit down.” “She’s dead,” Becky snapped. “Dead. Drowned. Broken.”