Drawn Death Novels & Stories

He never gets the chance. Kieran appears between us without warning or ceremony. The men do not see a man. They see Death. Not a figure they can name. Not something human. Something final. This is what Death looks like when tenderness has been withdrawn. Kieran’s hand closes around the first man’s throat. Not to kill the body. To claim the soul. The scream cuts off as something essential is pulled free of him, taken cleanly away. The second man turns to run. Kieran turns his head.

He again removed my arm away from him and questioning eyes darted across my face, "You seem to bring the death subject a lot lately." His words somehow let the smile slip off my face. I shrugged nonchalantly as I gazed outside the window, "Well, in the end, we all are going die, aren't we?" Death. That word alone used to scare me. Well, not anymore. Because death, is not the greatest loss in our life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. ********** Cara's POV My attention drifted from the conversation Katherine and Ashton's sister - Zoe - were having and my gaze fell on Chase and Lilly sitting together at the couch silently playing together. I smiled at how cute they looke

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa. … Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression. She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash. "Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?" I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him." Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

No matter the circumstances and odds against me, I am always ready to fight until death. And let me remind you that I have slain many soldiers, knights, monsters, and beasts. Don't forget how I single-handedly killed ten vicious players. I might not know the power of the Smith or anything about the so-called nectar that General Zod and the familiar voice are requesting from me. However, I am sure of one thing. I am sure that I won't die because "Tomorrow Never Dies."

“The extraction feels right. Natural. I should have accepted endings decades ago instead of surviving through impossible circumstances. This is a correction, not a violation.” He looks devastated hearing me say that. “We’ll reverse it,” he vows. “Find a way to restore your stubborn persistence. Get back the Mabel who refused to die properly.” But Death Overseer speaks with finality that makes reversal impossible: “Extraction is permanent. Stubborn persistence cannot be returned once removed, it’s integrated into my transition management system now. Mabel is mortal to designed endings forever. No restoration possible. This is an irreversible consequence of the trade she accepted.” My family s

She most likely had died in her sleep. Leila took a moment to get her head together and sniffed out Clyde Morten’s scent to avoid opening anymore drawers at random. No names were placed on the outsides, just numbers. The bodies had been reduced to numbers, stripped of their identities it seemed. She stopped at a drawer four across from the elderly lady, with the numbers 666829 stamped on the front drawer. It came as no surprise to her that Clyde’s case was stamped with the biblical mark of the beast, but Leila thought it in bad taste to think such a thing about a dead man.

(GENERAL AND DOLL) IN THIS GAME OD LIFE AND DEATH, WHERE THE CHANCE OF DRAWING THE CARD OF REINCARNATION IS ONE OUT OF TEN. CAN YOU TAKE THE BLAME? ARE YOU WILLING TO SACRIFICE EVERYTHING? TAKE THESE BOOKS CURSE AS THE AUTHOR IS FED UP WITH HER LIFE? CAN YOU CARRY THE BURDEN AND DWELL EVEN MORE INTO THE DARK GAME, WHERE A POEM WITH A CURSE IS PLACED? WHAT WILL YOU DO, IS THE DEATH REAPER WILL COME KNOCKING UNTO YOUR DOOR THIS VERY NIGHT? WILL YOU STILL PAY THE FEE TO FIND OUT?

Death draws me towards it like we have been attached with an unbreakable string. Maybe it's just a superpower in which I get the last chance to save the person in front of me or maybe it’s a curse. Particularly a Crimson curse, as I like to call it. Through the years the number of deaths I have seen is greater than my age. You would think that death doesn't affect me anymore. You are right to think that because that is what I had thought until 5 days ago.

From where he’s standing, I can just see the dark bulk of him, not the features of his face. “Was it him, Drew?” I ask. The house sighs as the air-conditioning kicks on, and I feel its cold breath on my neck. Drew crosses his arms across his chest. “He’s dead. You know that.” “Then who? Who knows that name?” “Someone’s fucking with you, girl. We’ll find out who. Don’t worry.” His words are benevolent, but his tone doesn’t quite make it. He doesn’t move closer or step into the light.