Manner Of Death Novels & Stories

" I'm not a terrible person so I'll let you choose your mode of death" She looked at him with disgust, if murdering his fellow human didn't make him a terrible person, then what would? " So tell me, will you like to die by hanging, poisoning, stabbing, drowning, falling off a balcony, gun shot,....." He listed a lot of dying modes to her but all she did was sob.

He slowly pulled back his hood, and at the sight of his face, people gasped, jumped up to their feet and quickly bowed as low as they could. I stared at him, wondering if he was joking about spending $30 million on me! That’s when I noticed it. The chain around his neck. It was gold and the pendant had the picture of two wolves on it. Suddenly I realized, THIS WAS HIM! this was the man! The man that had murdered my parents! The man that I had vowed to kill! He was standing right in front of me.! I couldn’t fucking believe it! I noticed how people were scrambling to bow to him. Who was he?

RYAN There are so many ways to kill. This, I have realized from reading books and experience itself. From my findings, there is the easy way of poisoning ones food, injecting said poison straight into the heart or even pushing the person down a cliff. Then the hard ways involve strangling, drowning, burning, amputation of the body bit by bit. As my mind go the latter, I feel a slight low burn at me back and sides, so I roll over in the mattress to get comfortable. My body had not been cut off, but by back and the sides of my ribs tell a different story.

Knox says to the doctor, his cold voice forcing me back into the room before I completely drown in front of the entire staff. The doctor straightens from the third table. He is an older man. Looking up from his specs, he says. “I’ll tell you what I can, Your Majesty, but most of it is too strange for even my years of service. They died within a few hours of one another. There are minor injuries, old cuts, one fresh, but none of it kills. There are no signs of suffocation or trauma. Internally, nothing burst, nothing failed that I can point to. And I’ve ruled out every rapid sickness in the manual that could look like this. Forty years of this, my king. I’ve seen them all. This is none of the

“Dead, unalive, passed away, went to the other side—” “I wasn’t asking the synonyms! I mean, why did she die? When did she die? How did she die?” “You should have asked why, how and when instead of what.” I glared him and he just coughed before continuing. “I received an email from her assistant. He said that doctor Mavis told him to contact me if anything happens to her.” “When did she die?” “She was found dead this morning in her apartment. It was a suicide. She was hanging when she was found.”

There is nothing to be done. The cause of death, according to the preliminary report that will be finalized and sealed within seventy-two hours: cardiac. Same as Moreau. I read the report three times. The first time is fast—the way you read something you're afraid of, skipping ahead to the conclusion to see if your worst fear is confirmed. Cardiac. No suspicious circumstances. Investigation concluded.

This is a test of a true leader and I don't know how to approach the situation exactly. One thing I do know is, is that I will do anything for my mate. The mate bond is sacred amongst wolves and she comes first and foremost. The coroner leads us to a body only covered by a white sheet. "I haven't had a chance to do anything yet, but we know that he died of his neck being broken, so a post mortem wouldn't be necessary." The coroner tells us. " I checked his blood cells when they brought him in though." "And?" I want to know, lifting the sheet to reveal the face of a very young man, I'd bet late teens or so.

I rounded the corner once again till I was back to her side, passing her one of the glasses. "My version of living is doing whatever the fuck I want. Everyone dies eventually, and not always from a liver failure." My gaze settled pointedly on her. The men before me are quite notorious for dying in far more gruesome ways. It'd only be a pleasure. "You mean your version of living is succumbing to your body's every desire, even if it's bound to kill you?" I lifted my glass to my lips, pausing to meet her defiant sea-blue eyes. "Usually, my body knows exactly what it wants. And right now, it's a curious blonde that doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Drink up."

Willie gazed with his eyes totally open, his face brimming with outrage. As of now, Monica, who had been quiet this while, talked. "There are four kinds of chronic executioners as far as topographical ways of behaving the space type, meandering sort, fixed area type, and interruption type. The Death Judge is a common fixed area type. He would bait or hijack the casualty into a pre-arranged spot to perpetrate a wrongdoing. This sort of chronic executioner has an extremely amazing feeling of arranging and is exceptionally careful in his activities. Also, the Death Judge is a sure and quiet individual. I trust this won't be the final remaining one. He will perpetrate another wrongdoing!"

Crystal countered back. I pursed my lips and shrugged. "I think the worst way to die is when you do not know about it. Like dying in one's sleep. You know when they're stabbed, butchered, jump off a plane, or are involved in an accident, they have that whole my-life-is-flashing-in-front-of-my-eyes moment but when they die of no cause at all, it's worse." They all stared at me like another head had sprouted out of the side of my neck like a blooming rose. "Damn," Crystal said. "That's kind of deep-ish."