Man Dying Novels & Stories

Turned on the TV just for noise. Some afternoon talk show. Then the show cut away suddenly BREAKING NEWS flashed across the screen. I glanced up, annoyed. Probably another update about the investigation. More speculation about Alfred’s guilt. But the news anchor’s face was serious in a different way. Grim. “We’re interrupting our regular programming to bring you breaking news out of the county. Political activist and gubernatorial candidate Patrick Mane has died following a single-vehicle accident on Highway 94 this morning.” The teacup slipped from my hand.

If the post-mortem examination showed that he died of natural causes, they would receive zero compensation. Upon hearing this, the onlookers started pointing fingers. “He’s right. The man was already ill. Maybe he didn’t die from consuming Eternality’s medicine.” “We can’t be sure about that. Do you not see the number of sick people here?” “It could be an accident if it’s just the old guy. But, something’s going on with this many people here.” They were heated in the discussion. Meanwhile, the muscular man and his family were having a discussion too.

I had a tumor in my stomach, and I would not live much longer. Donating my bone marrow would inevitably become the greatest catalyst to push my death forward. I would not leave the operating table alive. “It’s fine.” The pain on my body could not compare to the pain in my heart. Since no one looked forward to my living, it would be better if I just died. The nurse who had held my phone for me came back in a hurry. Her eyes sparkled, as if she was giving me my final hope. Jacob York, my boyfriend’s name, shone on the screen, and it stung my eyes.

The trouble level is high. - Jack grinned icily. Assuming he utilized this scene, it would be a staggering disaster for the police! Notwithstanding, wasn't this the impact he needed? The following second, a pompous appearance blossomed all over. In the interim, in a private estate in Manhattan, New York, a couple of individuals were smoking. Their appearances were incredibly grave. Smoke drifted in the huge lounge, and the ashtrays were loaded up with cigarette butts. "Older sibling Marcellus, Chapman, and Chris are for the most part dead. The Death Inquisitor won't come after us, right?" A bare man said as he put out his cigarette and checked out at the man before him with a stressed and fr

"Your mother's surgery covered completely. Your student debt cleared. A private account set up in your name. A home to live in. Security. Everything you do not have right now." My mouth felt dry. "He is in a coma." "Yes." "He might not wake up." "The medical team believes he will not." The silence between us stretched out wide and cold. "You want me to marry a dying man," I said. Roland looked at me with those steady unremarkable eyes of his. "I want your mother to live another year. Right now those two things are connected." I looked down at my hands on the table. The marks from my keys were still pressed into my palm, little red lines that were already starting to fade.

Eli tried to throw himself forward to shield me, but Mom held him back with a firm grip, saying, "He needs to learn his lesson! He needs to understand what things he can and cannot say!" I overheard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen the following day after the incident. Mom said through her tears, "He only has nine years left…" "I know," Dad said hoarsely." "J-Just nine years left…" It was only then that I understood that Eli was really going to die. It turned out that the numbers hovering above his head, unseen by anyone else, were the countdown to his lifespan. In the living room, Mom's and Dad's eyes were bloodshot as they carefully escorted Eli back to his bedroom.

And somewhere in a Mayfair hotel a dying man is sitting with his phone waiting to see how his final act plays out. We are about to tell him the audience has changed.

When the news of my death came in, Dan Fanning was signing a contract worth eight figures. His assistant rushed into his office with a serious expression. “Mr. Fanning, your wife has passed away.” The pen paused on the paper. Ink bled out and stained the page. Dan slowly looked up. “She’s dead?” “Yes. The police believe it was suicide.” The room suddenly fell into a suffocating stillness. Dan was silent for a few seconds before sinking into his chair as if all the strength had left him. He let out a long sigh.

Carl pulled her into his arms and said, "Don't cry, Pheebs. Everyone has their own destiny." What bullshit! I didn't believe in that rubbish, yet my fate had played such a huge prank on me. It had turned me into such a harbinger of misfortune. I saw the slight smile on Carl's face. He seemed to be pleased that I was dead. He and the rest of them surrounded my body. Silence descended upon them as they looked at my photo and urn. Gary said grimly, "Holly called me this afternoon and told me she was going to die. She wanted us to have one last meal with her."