Depression Dark Death Quotes Novels & Stories

"A dark, cold feeling is spreading through me like frost on a windshield on a winter morning." Katherine Webber Misery and obscurity are my closest companions since I started to comprehend. People have worn black to express their grief and my never ending grief pushing me into depression of darkness. This morning light is so dark than my night, the room is brightened with sunlight but all I can see pitch dark because there is no light no hope that

Once I sat engaged and waiting I heard a martyred, extrajudicial sentencing Death - tormentor of my dreams Deep into that darkness sanctioning 'Death!' said I, 'thing of demise.' I awoke and flung the grief My passion is the parched necrosis 'Death!' chuckled I, 'Yes Death!' ~~Theodora Twitty <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Scarlett

Decus laughed. He liked the spectacle that was going on here. He put his hand on Godric's head, his claws digging into his scalp. The blood slowly seeped into the priest's hair and he groaned again in pain. It felt like he was being dazed with pain. "It won't be long my servants and you will be able to wallow in the darkness! With Lucifer's death our era will arise! I will make everyone suffer! I am Lord Gehenna and a God!"

Jessica shivered, wrapping herself tightly in the quilt, feeling the chill seeping into her bones. The quilt seemed to be covered in a thin layer of frost, making everything feel icy cold. Jessica's head throbbed, her thoughts slowing down, as if everything was becoming unclear, with brief moments of blankness in her mind. It was terrifying, like drowning in the sea without being able to grab onto anything. This feeling was called despair. In the darkness, tears fell. From some movie, she remembered hearing a line, "Fragile people like darkness because it conceals all vulnerabilities and helplessness. Even if you cry, darkness can hide it for you."

Luciano said, from the minibar throwing himself a glass of whisky. “You seem frustrated but then you turn it into anger and take it out on everyone.” Luciano said leaning on the bookshelf. “Does it have to do with a certain black hair woman going by The Shadow of Death.” Matteo inquired looking at Luciano then back at me with a knowing look. “Vaffanculo.” (Fuck off) I said sounding a little too mad wich only feed into them being right.

Old wolves wept, their tears falling on the stone floor, their weathered faces lifted toward the light. "But the war is not over," I said, and the cheering stopped. The silence was immediate, heavy, expectant. Every eye was on me. "The king is dead. The shadow is gone. The darkness is silent. But it is only sleeping. It has slept before. It has always woken. One day, it will wake again. That is the nature of darkness. It does not die. It only waits. It only watches. It only hungers." The pack was silent. The flames crackled. I saw fear in some eyes, defiance in others, hope in a few. A young pup in the back of the hall began to cry, and its mother hushed it, rocking it gently.

“It’s okay. You did well my child. You did well. It’s not over. This isn’t the end. You will all come back to me’’. She says in a shaking voice. I want to say more, but my chest hurts so bad that I give up and let the words remain inside me. Goodbye… Mother. I whisper in silence. The darkness engulfs me, death holding me in its cold embrace as my vision gets clouded, covered in a hazy mist. And then everything turns black. All I see is nothing. ………………………………………………

“Come on, just a sip.” “Oh…no.” I insist. “Yeah…I want to… feel this ‘feeling’ sober. I guess you could say that.” I finish as I gesture at the gravestones around us. “Nothing gets people recognising their mortality like the dead and dying.” He utters before taking a swig. “So, how do you deal with this?” “‘This’ as in existential depression?” “No!” I chuckle slightly. Have we ever had such a light conversation before? It feels good.

“Kade’s pride has seeded all our graves.” A different man, younger, who had clasped his mate to his chest in the corner, let out a noise that wasn’t a word. Tears burned his eyes. “We will all die,” he said, his voice cracked and the sentence shattered into a dozen variations: “We’re finished.” “There’s no way out.” “Lucien deletes whole packs.” Each phrase, each cracked syllable, swung through the circle and left raw marks. “No mercy.” “Not even the animals.” “Not a single one.”

We didn't let the darkness win. END OF VOLUME ONE