Death Writing Novels & Stories

Dying on the floor of the facility he built. Taking the final kill code with him.

Death was standing in front of me. I had no doubt that this was the night I was going to die; in an empty park with freezing rain just starting to fall. My nothing-special life was going to end in a way I would never in a million years have seen coming. A nothing-special death sounded so much better right then.

"I don't work for this world anymore, Julian. This world is closed. The ledger for Earth was finalized an hour ago. Every soul has been accounted for and moved to the next Great Cycle." "But I'm still here!" "You aren't," Death says, and for the first time, I see a flicker of pity in his eyes. "In the eyes of the universe, you were settled centuries ago. You are a rounding error. A ghost in the machine. I cannot take what is already recorded as gone." He begins to fade into the mist. "Wait!" I shriek, dragging myself toward him. "What happens to me? What do I do?" His voice comes from everywhere and nowhere, a final, fading whisper.

The smell of lilies was always the first thing to return. It was the scent of my own funeral, a cloying sweetness that made me want to gag. I opened my eyes and didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just counted the cracks in the gold-leaf ceiling of the ducal bedchamber. One, two, three... I knew them all. I had memorized them while gasping my last breath in Life Four. I had stared at them while my vision went black in Life Seven.

Theme:- Welcome to the Afterlife part 1 As it was inscribed in the holy book, it was given for a man to die once, and after that death, it is judgement. But for me, Rey Reed, it is different. If my guess is right, this will be the third time I have visited the land of the dead. The first time was when I escaped from the tar pit. I can't remember how long I lost consciousness, but when I woke up. I only opened my eyes in hell.

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

He ignored the creature and kept walking, hoping that in ignoring him, he would leave him alone. “One of the men you made to choke the other day has died at the hospital. Guess which people are accused of killing him with witchcraft,” the man said again and Jason’s heart skipped a bit. “What are you saying?” he asked, turning to the man. “Nothing, bro,” Grant said, walking past Jason, then turning to look at him funny. Jason’s eyes were fixed on somewhere else and not him. He did not know what to make of it, so he continued walking. The latter had not seen him walk past.

A soft quiet moan left my lips as I woke up tangled in Death's soft silk sheets. Death comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets glistening off his hair and abs. He has a fricken 8 pack! "Yes, I do," he replies smugly after hearing my thoughts "You also like cuddling," I turn my back to him "I didn't know you would climb into my bed in the middle of the night," he replies nonchalantly

I bit my lip and sighed. "I just exist for death, I can kill but rarely do, it's very difficult to explain but I know how everyone will leave this existence except for you, I only know when you won't perish because you're my soulmate," I mumbled softly. He eyed me questionably and glanced out the window, avoiding my eyes. He exhaled harshly and leaned back against the seat. "Alright Sebastian, you're Death and my soulmate. Does that make me Life," he asked curiously. I bit my lip and chuckled, it couldn't be that simple, I highly doubted that. I side eyed him and grinned.

Norman stayed near the door, his eyes glued to her, a torment I knew well mirrored in his gaze. I bent down slightly, my eyes scanning Riley, feeling the subtle shifts in her life force. It was fading, flickering like a candle caught in a strong breeze. She was still there, but barely. “Death is groping at her,” I muttered, the words leaving my lips unbidden, a quiet observation. It was a common phrase in the old circles I moved in, a way to describe when the veil between life and what comes after grows thin.