Dying Stories Novels & Stories

Now, the memory felt like the cruelest joke imaginable. After leaving the bathroom, I picked up my phone and searched for a professional disappearance service. Then, I dialed the number. “I’d like to purchase your highest-level death simulation package. The date will be… seven days from now.” It would be the day of our wedding. Before I could finish speaking, a surprised voice sounded behind me. “Clara, who are you talking to at this hour of the night?" My heart leaped out of my chest, and I immediately hung up.

“I have my moments.” We talk about everything except football—travel horror stories, worst interviews we’ve done (theirs are better than mine), the general absurdity of adult life. Harper tells a story about accidentally interviewing the wrong athlete at the Olympics—fifteen minutes in before anyone realized. Sloane talks about the time she got stuck in an airport for three days covering a story that fell through. I tell them about the teammate who thought “per diem” was a type of pasta. It’s easy. Natural. The kind of conversation that makes hours feel like minutes.

“I think she is dead.” Carter growls, his hands combing through his hair in frustration.“She was going to die anytime soon, it doesn't matter how she dies,” he murmured as he bent down to touch her neck. Hailey still felt warm, but life was slowly draining out of her. “Call...an… ambulance…please.” Her voice was faint and weak, barely above a whisper. Carter smirked, there was no way he was going to do so. “People with cancer faint more often.” He stood up.

"N-No, it had nothing to do with me…" Behind him, Jessica's voice cracked with fury. "So it was you! You're the reason I ended up like this! You tried to have my mom and Theodore killed!" According to the intruders, they had held a grudge against the Dawson family because their own company had been destroyed by malicious business tactics. Their parents had died of cerebral hemorrhages caused by the anger, and they couldn't even afford proper treatment. Wilson was the one who told them when and where to go. In the interrogation room, he screamed himself hoarse denying every charge. But faced with the evidence, his excuses fell apart.

I opened my eyes fully and looked down at the sweet child peeking sleepily up at me. "You hurted my daddy," Miguel mumbled in confusion. My heart dropped and I shook my head. I wasn't completely responsible for their deaths. I mean their father died in the stupid Iraq war and their blonde haired mother hung herself after getting the news. I dealt with death but not the way the individual died, that was solely on those fate bitches. "This is bullshit, let's go, don't ever forget about me little man, we will meet again in the future, this I swear," I growled. I moved him off me, patting his head sweetly and hurried past Maria cursing me while holding a cross up at me.

Joshua turned down the volume and slightly turned his head to listen in. “Yes mother,” Tulani said. “Her husband was a scumbag who cheated on her every chance he got. Their three year old daughter was killed in front of her preschool whilst waiting for her father who was in bed with some skunk to come pick her up. She heard a vehicle coming, let go of her teacher’s hand and ran onto the street, but it wasn’t him. He was too busy s------g his mistress to remember he had a daughter.” “Watch your language son,” his father cautioned him.

Ever since,it's been me and Grandpa against the world,together forever. Grandpa was a chauffeur,he didn't have much of a formal education,and we lived off his earnings. When I met JoJo,a boy with the same kind of state am in,it made me feel less lonely. JoJo's dad is in prison,and his mom works as a night club stripper. One night,she overdosed something, on a client's request,she only did it for the extra pay. But it ended up messing her head,and she collapsed and died. JoJo never talks about it,no one would ever cross him as a guy who had ever gone through any sort of childhood trauma.

I shouted with all my might. "I'm sorry, treasure, but I'm afraid that's impossible." some of the men told me. "What are you going to do? Please take everything ... I'll give you everything but let us go." I was dying of fear. I didn't know what was coming. They were laughing. Apparently it was funny for them that I was praying for our lives. "Treasure, your man owes us so much moee than just money and he will pay with his life," said one of the men.

I asked. Lucas let out a low scoff and stood up to grab his jacket off the floor. “Not even close.” I grabbed my jeans and shoved my legs into them. My brain buzzed with a mix of leftover adrenaline and rising panic. The reality of my situation started to crash down on me. I zipped my pants and turned to face him. “Damian told me stories about you,” I said. “Victor too. They made you out to be this unstable sociopath who tortured small animals and set fires in the woods.”

She has always been your enemy. She is dying. Dying people are desperate. He sets the newspaper down. Dying people will say anything. They will do anything. They will use anyone. They will lie. They will manipulate. They will do whatever it takes to feel like they have done something good. They will do whatever it takes to feel forgiven.