Fnaf Deaths Novels & Stories

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep I don't wanna pass away I been thinking of our future 'cause I'll never see those days I don't know why this has happened But I probably deserve it I tried to do my best But you know that I'm not perfect I been praying for forgiveness You've been praying for my health When I leave this earth Hoping you'll find someone else 'Cause yeah, we still young There's so much we haven't done Getting married, start a family Watch your husband with his son I wish it could be me But I won't make it off this bed I hope I go to heaven So I see you once a

After the incident, Mom's cooking garnered yet another wave of attention online. "This is the fourth life Florence Winters has taken with her food. How potent can the food be?" "Jokes aside, I can't imagine how much despair Florence's daughter must've felt, having to watch her own fiance die right in front of her." The netizens even started looking for more similarities between my four exes. They wondered whether the men had been unfaithful to me and whether that had led to their deaths.

“Luanne, the countdown to your death has begun. You have exactly three seconds left. If you have any last words, I can deliver them for you.” I lifted my head, looking up at the endless expanse of the pitch-black sky, and smiled. “Then… May we never see each other again, for all eternity.” Three seconds later, a cloud of white ash drifted up into the sky. At that exact moment, an official FBI bulletin printed in stark white text on a black background sent the group chat into an uproar once again. [Our bureau’s officer, Luanne Lee, heroically sacrificed her life on August 25, 2024, during the successful crackdown of a major organized crime case.]

“Normal?” She shrugged, rolling onto her side to face me slightly, propping her head on one arm. “Yeah. People die in dumb, random ways. Cars, accidents, stupid mistakes. Happens all the time.” I chewed my lip, trying to wrap my brain around her calmness. How can she be so… detached? I thought. And yet, part of me envied it. I envied the way she could treat death like it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

In her last moment, her hand shot out, clamping onto his leg in a death grip. "Julian, die with me. Let's go to hell together." Without a flicker of emotion, Julian pried her fingers from his leg, one by one. She let out one last scream as she fell three stories. He walked to the edge of the balcony and watched her body hit the pavement, blood pooling around her. He felt nothing. A month later, Julian got the doctor's report. Lung infection. One month to live. He didn't seek treatment. With his last bit of money, he took a bus to New York.

The memory answers before she can stop it. Her back against the concrete pillar. The dead closing in. One hand pressed to her bleeding arm. The bag gone. Dex gone. No rescue. No miracle. Just her, laughing once because of course this was how it ended, because if she had known betrayal came with this much paperwork she would have asked for a receipt. She had still tried to get up. Even then. Especially then. “That’s a flattering way to say I died stubborn.” It was a statistically significant death. A laugh escapes her before she can catch it. Small. Ugly. Almost nothing.

After a thorough investigation by the production team, the details of my past were quickly uncovered. They also confirmed with the relevant authorities that I had, in fact, already passed away. "Three years ago, Nicolas Soros died on a snowy night—frozen to death because he couldn't afford hospitalization. "It wasn't until the autopsy that the coroner discovered that what looked like a thick down jacket… didn't even contain real padding. And that was already the most expensive piece of clothing his mother had ever bought for him. With discounts, it cost less than five dollars.

After five years of marriage, I found out my husband was in love with my best friend, the same one who stole my fiance. Betrayed by both of them, I decided to fake my death and disappear. There were two days left. After I sent the email, Lloyd Becker walked into the study. Just as I closed the email about my fake death plan, he gently hugged me from behind and casually looked at my screen. “Sending work emails?” “Yeah, just checking some work plans.” I tried to sound natural and smiled at him.

He walked to the adjacent ward and opened the door, but there was no sign of me. Frowning, he went to the nurses' station. "Where is patient 807? She just had kidney surgery. She shouldn't be moving around." The nurse checked the computer and replied calmly, "Patient 807, Jocelyn Pryce… was declared deceased at 5:20 p.m. this afternoon."

Two hours earlier, I signed a waiver at a private research clinic outside Newark. The coordinator tapped the tablet in front of me. “After you take the dose, we’ll monitor you for five hours. If your vitals are stable when you leave, any delayed reaction afterward is not our liability.” She had said it twice already. The meaning was clear: if I died after walking out, it had nothing to do with them. I signed anyway. Adrian and I had only eighteen thousand dollars left to repay. After five years of collectors, overdue notices, double shifts, and counting every grocery receipt, the end was finally close. I thought one more risk could buy us a new beginning.