Death Notice Novels & Stories

Then I reached the final section and my eyes widened. Status: Officially deceased. I froze. "No way." I read the line again to make sure I had not misunderstood. Officially deceased. The date of death was listed directly beneath it. My breathing slowed as realization settled over me. It was the exact same year the photograph had been taken. The same year. I hurriedly searched through the remaining documents, hoping to find more information. There was another notation. Family Incident. Records sealed. I stared at the words. "Family incident?"

I thought maybe if I didn’t pick it up, it would stop. But what if it was Daddy? I walked slowly toward it. My feet felt cold on the floor. I reached up and grabbed the receiver the way I’d seen Daddy do. It felt heavier than I expected. “Hello?” I whispered. A woman’s voice came through. “Hello, this is City Gate Mortuary calling to notify the family of Asher Wolfsbane and Valerie Darkrose that the individuals listed were found deceased after a car accident on the 22nd of May, two days ago.”

I could not even remember how. At the very least, I should thank him for serving as our first lab rat and providing such valuable data. … That night, the hospital informed me that he had killed himself shortly after I left by drinking a bottle of sanitizer. They pronounced him dead soon after. I gave a noncommittal "mm-hmm" and told the hospital to handle the body. His funeral was simple: no ceremony, no pomp, no ritual, not even a single guest. I watched as they lowered him into the grave. At last, it was over.

So I tapped. Julian had released two documents to every major news outlet simultaneously. The first was my mother's death certificate. Official cause of death: motor vehicle accident. Date of death: ten years ago. I'd seen the death certificate before. It lived in a folder in my father's desk drawer. It was the most clinical document in existence, reducing my mother's entire life to a cause and a date.

The call from his assistant at ten came as if it was a bell ringing to signal the final act. “Turn on the news,” the assistant said, voice muffled. “Now.” Leo obliged, more out of ritual than necessity, and the television bloomed to life with a news anchor whose practiced sympathy felt theatrical. The headline crawled in stark font across the bottom of the screen long before the anchor’s mouth had formed the words. “Breaking: Annatoria Voss, 38-year-old business tycoon and beauty queen, has died unexpectedly during a private workout session at her home. Police are treating the death as sudden and under investigation. Early reports suggest a cardiac event, though authorities have made no offi

With his last breath, he shared his memories with me, leaving me to carry the weight of his father’s coldness and misunderstanding. He closed his eyes for the last time, just ten years old, with neither Anthony nor I by his side.

"Sebastian! Come here!" Hearing Caitlin’s voice, Sebastian rushed over. "What’s going on, Caitlin?" "Look!" Caitlin pointed to the wall, "I accidentally discovered this!" Sebastian looked at the photos and read aloud, "Eleanor, Walter, Kelly..." The names included not only Caitlin’s grandparents and mother, but also the deceased mortician, embalmer, Una, and others. They were all on the list. The deceased were marked with a red cross and the time of death was recorded.

“What’s this supposed to be hmm?” ‎ ‎“Open it,” he said simply. And I did. It was a medical report, I was shocked with the news I saw, it was one that froze everything for a moment. The document revealed that Sarah Fenric was declared deceased years ago, her name was listed under an unconfirmed hospital report that never made it to official records. But what struck even deeper was Elijah’s late wife, Nina, was never officially declared dead. The report had only been sent privately from the hospital to the family, never reaching the public registry or any legal authority. It was as though someone wanted her death to exist only in whispers… and now, the truth was all standing in this same room

Nathan pursed his lips and said after a long time, "She's dead." Maia was stunned for a moment, and then her lips curved into an imperceptible arc. She lowered her eyes and said, "After so many years, she had suffered enough. It's easier to die than to live." Nathan did not speak. After a while, he said, "Chelsea has issued an obituary notice. The funeral is tomorrow. Should I go?"

She goes where she has always gone. "I found a ledger," I say, and my voice comes out in the low careful dialect I have learned from listening to her, the register of a woman asking another woman to carry what she cannot carry herself. "In the chapel vault. It has an authorization code for a death that happened two years ago, a death that was ordered from inside this family, and the code matches the payroll sheets I transcribed in my first week. The same block letters. The same purple ink. A single initial." Nonna Carmela taps her forefinger twice on the stone lip of the well.