Malty Melromarc Death Novels & Stories

I couldn't—i just couldn't do that to her. Then the phone rang. Marco's name flashed across the screen. I swiped to answer. “This better be important.” “Boss.” Marco's voice was tight. “We have a problem. Marcus is dead.” I stilled. “What?” “Our men found him in an alley near the docks. Two bullets to the back of the head. It was a clean job.” My fingers tightened around the phone. Marcus—the weasel who'd been snapping photos of Lena for Evelyn. “When did you find out?”

“I have no reason to do such a thing. You have hundreds of allies, but they are incredibly unloyal and will defect to me when they learn that their leader has been killed. Your time is up, Amadeus. I don’t want to do this, but you have forced my hand. Any last words before I send you on a long journey?” “No,” Amadeus defiantly replied. He then closed his eyes tightly and awaited his fate. “Well, then, vfalon zenipithernomos! Goodbye forever!” Marcus yelled before stabbing his enemy’s chest and penetrating his most vital organ. Amadeus stopped breathing and fell into an eternal sleep. The man with the crimson cloak reached into his pocket and pulled out a remote-like object. He pulled a pin o

In the instant he jumped, Marcus thought that it would be best if he could somehow get to the alternate universe where Risa never existed. It would be best if he met Amanita first. Unfortunately, there was no such thing in life. He had lost it all. Before Marcus died, he removed the bomb from his body. Thus, he was the only fatality from his jump. No one else was hurt. Amanita and Samuel got married successfully, and Dennis ended up arranging for Marcus’s funeral. “Marcus, I hated you when you were alive.” Standing before Marcus’s grave, Dennis took out a bottle of wine and poured a glass to place before the gravestone. Dennis drank the rest of the bottle.

" My consciousness began to fade. The screen blurred before my eyes, and I could only struggle to type one last message. "Carlo, I know this isn't your fault. I don't blame you. I really don't. I'm just so cold." After typing the final word, I closed my eyes and let the darkness take everything. In the instant before death, I heard the high heels return. The clicking ceased at the door, then a woman's whisper came through. Her voice was light, but unmistakably clear. "Goodbye, Margherita." It was Benedetta. It was really her.

“What is this?” “That’s what killed him,” he said, his voice trembled. “H-He said if I got into trouble, I just have to…to go there.” The detective flipped the card and saw two words engrossed on it in gold ink. DOMUS MALUM His eyebrows furrowed, frustration creeping in. His head began to throb as he looked away. “Thanks for this, Mate,” he said and hopped on his car, never casting a glance again on the guy.

In timing. These souls were not scheduled. They were not substitutions. No balance was redirected to account for their removal. They were taken because Death chose to take them. That distinction matters. “You intervened,” I say. This is not accusation. It is record. Death does not deny it. He stands exactly as he always does when he carries excess, posture steady, attention precise. The markings along his form burn faintly, not fading, not dispersing. Pain contained where it always is. Within him.

I didn’t imagine the voice. It was as clear as day, as loud as if she were standing right next to me. And even though my mind is doubting it, my heart knows for a fact that it was her. Except she’s dead. …Right? Or is she “dead” in the same way Headmaster Stroud suspects my father is dead? Meaning, alive somewhere. “Come on,” Alec whispers. He leads the way out of the bush, and we peek around the pool house’s corner. The coast is clear.

Or maybe that was just his voice squeezing the last of my patience. I took another drink. Another burn. God, this shit tastes freaking terrible. “Where’s Romarco?” I asked flatly, though deep down, I already knew. There was a pause. “Dead,” he finally spat. “Like you’ll be soon if you don’t tell me who these fucking ghosts are and why they’ve been wrecking our operations.” A ghost, I wanted to correct… but instead I— I leaned back in my chair, letting the burn of the scotch crawl down my throat.

After the battle, Wilbur walked back and suddenly heard a voice coming from the front, "Did you just see it? Are you sure Marco is dead?" "Yes, sir, Mister Marco was too proud and complacent, thinking that he could pass the preliminary round with his strength. Unfortunately, he faced the guards in his final round and was killed by the guard." "Hmph, how bold of him! If Mister Horst March knows about this, I'm afraid none of the cultivators who defeated Mister Marco can make it to the finals. They all must die!"

Black liquid, blood, soaked the dirty carpet; some of them had splashed onto her face and her khaki coat. “He’s so hot, even in death,” Marc said from her side. His name was Marcus, but everyone called him Marc. “It’s an incubus. Of course, it’s good-looking. Stop talking like that about a dead body. Disgusting.” Danica shut him up. Her coat stripped off, she wiped the smelly blood off of her face with it.