Death Notice Novels & Stories

I yelled when he hesitated to respond. Rod shut his eyes and swallowed hard and before saying, “I know you don’t want to ever behold me with your eyes but that is not my reason for coming.” I howled at him, “Then why are you here? Let me be and stop pestering me. Please go!” Rod shrugged and replied me, “Fine I will leave but I have bad news for you, Melissa,” he said at a breath and snapped his breath for a few seconds before saying yet further, “Brian is dead. This is his obituary announcement.” He took out the obituary poster from his pocket and flashed it in my eyes. Without any interest to protest, I slumped…

Nova said, and Celia nodded, stopping when she remembered originally, their team was one of four. "What happened to the other lady? Did she get captured? I can make up a team real quick to-" "Thank you Celia but that won't be needed. She died saving us." Jonathan replied, and his voice sounded thick, as if he struggled not to let the tears out. Celia nodded, feeling a wave of sadness hit her. She was all too familiar with death, but even she knew it was a devastating blow, especially when it was someone she was use to seeing every day.

I felt my stomach rumble softly and the knot got tighter but it didn't hurt me. Weird. "Here. Read this." He called placing a tablet in my hand. "What's this?" I asked collecting it from him. On the screen was a newspaper report of a man dieing in a car accident. The picture was the picture of the car on fire. The headline read "THREE UNKNOWN MEN DIES AND BURNS TO DEATH IN UNFORTUNATE CAR ACCIDENT A DAY TO CHRISTMAS! Today, Tuesday, 24th December, 1996."

NEWS REPORT “Mrs. Suzan Anderson, a renowned celebrity known for owning multiple spas and boutiques across the country, has passed away. She died on the 18th of May, 2027, after a battle with cervical cancer. Her family is currently in deep grief and mourning. Many have described her as a kind and generous woman—indeed, a philanthropist. Several public figures, including Mrs. Joan Wilson, have expressed their condolences. She will be remembered for her impact and compassion.

“Peters will call when the official death certificate is filed. After that, there’s no going back.” Blair squeezed back. “Then let’s do this.” Roman’s phone buzzed, looking. “Peters sent me a link to the media release.” Opening it, he showed her. It was a news alert: “Local Woman Dies from Injuries Sustained in Car Crash.” “Well,” she said, staring at her own obituary. “I guess I’m officially dead now.” The room fell silent as they all processed the reality of what they’d just set in motion.

Jessica leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands, “Is this... Max’s death certificate?” “Yes,” said Shannon, handing the tablet to Chris. “According to the death certificate, Max apparently died suddenly on the operating table in Impelia 20 years ago. Because he had no relatives to claim him, his body was quickly sent for cremation.”

A wave of sorrow washed over the room, and a collective dread prevented anyone from looking at the graphic images. Jerome kept watching, his hands trembling as he did so I tried to cover Jerome's eyes, but my hand passed right through him. "Jerry… don't watch anymore…" The more he saw, the more tears he shed, yet Jerome persisted, his eyes glued to the images. "You must be mistaken. How could that be Nini?" Zachary still refused to accept it. "Mr. Gordon, I know this is hard to accept, but Ms. Sutton is indeed... dead," Officer Tiller said.

“Sir, Ms. Lorien passed away at 9:17 p.m. on April 21, 2025, from brain cancer. Her body is currently in the hospital morgue. “We ask the family to please make arrangements to collect her body as soon as possible.” The voice on the other end sounded routine, like someone used to delivering such news. But in Pierce’s head, a light went out. Meanwhile, I floated silently, arms folded, seated on the stairwell, watching the scene before me with calm detachment. My death notice had arrived. I had wondered what kind of expression would Pierce wear upon hearing I was already gone? Would Pierce, at last, shed tears for me?

he says. "What now?" Lucien says. Reth holds up his phone. On the screen: a news alert, twenty minutes old, from the regional wire service that covers this part of the state. The headline reads: Prominent financier Douglas Harmon found dead at family estate. Cause of death under investigation. My father. The room goes very quiet. I look at the headline. I look at it for a long time. My mother has gone completely still beside me, not the controlled stillness, not the managed composure. A different kind of stillness. The kind that comes before something breaks.

Eleven years of believing she’d died suddenly, peacefully, a stroke in the night, the kind of death that was sad but not violent, not something anyone needed to answer for. And my father had been standing over her when it happened. “Did anyone else know,” I said. “The doctor who signed the certificate retired years ago. He’s in Florida now, I believe. I don’t know if he’s still—” She stopped. “I don’t know if he’s alive. But there might be records. Hospital records, if anyone looked hard enough, might show inconsistencies between what was reported and what was actually—” “I’ll find him,” I said quietly.