Forgotten Six Feet Under Novel Novels & Stories

The real underground was a labyrinth of forgotten sub-levels, abandoned Cold War bunkers, and sealed-off subway extensions. Jack drifted in and out of consciousness. The fever was a living thing now, clawing at his brain. He saw flashes of memory—his father signing a contract, Valerius laughing as the tower fell, Olivia in a wedding dress made of spiderwebs. "Olivia..." he muttered, his hand grasping blindly. "I'm here, Jack," she whispered, holding his hand as they walked. Her grip was the only anchor keeping him from drifting away. "We are here," Grog announced.

all seriousness again, “you can’t see a thing in the forest at night and you know everyone else is asleep and you can’t talk above a whisper. The cold nights are the worst.” “Then I’ll just have to warm you up after you finish your evening shifts, won’t I?” “Suddenly I like cold evening shifts.” Neither of them was prepared for what happened next. As Sir Farr walked past one shadow a small, dark shape lunged out and seemed to pass through Sir Farr, then disappeared back into shadows. At first nothing seemed to happen, then Sir Farr fell to the ground. A large black shape spread across the ground, spewing from his neck. Moonlight reflected red in the blood.

All around me were thousands of honeycomb shaped coffins, home to supernatural prisoners required to serve out their eternal existence within. I walked across the room, my boots striking the dirt floor with a rhythmic dull thud. Once I reached the other side, I noticed my head hurt less. For the next several minutes, I played a not very fun game of Hot and Cold, except my version was more like Pain and Less Pain. If the final piece of the crown was buried with one of the undead, it could take me months or years to find it. An overwhelming sense of foreboding filled my chest as I thought about Sharra and Arthur and -

The Forgotten Mate 4. The Baby. Months had passed since that fateful night, and yet the memory of the mysterious man lingered within the depths of my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting happiness he had brought me. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the pain of my existence persisted, unyielding in its relentless grip.

“You have an interesting case, Mr. Anderson. I will say. Your subconscious knows everything you went through for those six months, but it refuses to give up an iota of information.” I laced my fingers together. “I did get snippets of memories. One that was large enough to land me in the hospital. And even a few small moments came back.” “Anything lately?” “No, sir. I also haven’t been in any familiar places, though. I removed a lot of stresses in my life for a month or so, as well.”

"Follow me, if you would, please." The girl quickly followed, coming obediently through the open doorway behind him. She started back towards the door to the platform which was bolted, and he stopped her when he saw it. "Not that way, Avera," he called after her, his voice kindly yet stern. Avera turned to see that he had taken a right and was now standing at the end of the hall, considering the seeming dead end of the rough walls painted white. He laid his hand against the wall and felt the warmth flow through him, dropping into his palm and spreading out into the painted plaster. Streams of light like liquid fire appeared before his eyes and began to pattern the covered bricks, revealing w

The Forgotten Library The air inside the Forgotten Library felt ancient. Dust floated through the dim light like drifting snow, disturbed only by the quiet footsteps of Lyra, Cael, and Astraen as they moved deeper into the enormous underground hall. Towering shelves stretched into the darkness above them, filled with scrolls, worn books, and stone tablets that had not been touched for centuries. The place smelled of old paper, dry stone, and something else Lyra could not quite name—something faintly magical.

The silence pressed against my eardrums like deep water. When we crossed the threshold into the Forgotten Sector, the temperature plummeted. It had once been a subterranean plaza for the lower-tier workers. Now, it was a graveyard of jagged silhouettes. The sky was a tangled ceiling of black cables and leaking pipes dripping toxic condensation onto cracked asphalt. I saw them huddled beneath the skeleton of a rusted slide. Six of them. They weren't shifters yet—just children, waifish and wrapped in oversized rags that smelled of wet dust and neglect. These were the anomalies. The offspring of parents who had been formatted out of existence for being too weak, too old, or too defiant.

My knees scraped the ground in the process, leaving me bleeding. Xavier’s cold voice sounded from above me. “What are you trying to pull now? Why would I ever believe anything you say? Sara, even if you threaten to kill yourself right here, I won’t believe a single word you say.” I bit my lip and started gathering the ashes back into the broken urn. Xavier, however, clicked his tongue in irritation and kicked the urn farther away. More ashes spilled out, scattering everywhere. I watched as the urn became dented beyond recognition. Pain and sorrow flooded me, paralyzing me in place.

As I no longer loved her, her apologies meant nothing to me. Sitting on the floor, I only had one thing on my mind. It was time for me to cross over. In my next life, I hoped to live as a mindless single-celled organism. Helen patted Jean on the shoulder. “Tanner has your heart, so it makes sense that you’re in denial now.” Jean snapped her head up. “But Tanner gave me his kidney. He loves and cares about me.” Helen gave Jean a look as if she were an idiot.