Manner Of Death Novels & Stories

I was consumed by my loss, and I couldn't see a way out of the darkness that had descended upon me. I sat in stunned silence, trying to process the news of my mother's passing. Dr. Ryan, a kind-faced doctor with a gentle demeanor, sat down beside me, his eyes filled with compassion. "What happened to my mother?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Dr. Ryan took a deep breath before speaking. "Aries, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but it appears that your mother's death was not due to natural causes." I felt a chill run down my spine as he continued. "It looks like she was...asphyxiated. Someone may have suffocated her, possibly by covering her nose and mouth with a pillow or so

“Anything to say now?” His eyes rolled back in his head as the last heartbeat pushed what little blood out of his system and he died. The other two looked at each other in fear. “Can’t do it, man!” “How about this? First man that talks, get a painless death. Whoever doesn’t talk, I will make small cuts all over your body. Then I will bring in rats and let them eat you alive until you die…. with my dull knife.” “Wedon’tknowhisname!” the first guy blurted out so fast.

He nodded his head and sighed deeply. “The autopsy says that there’s no reason for him to die. Everything in him was intact and in good condition. He’s clean and has no vices that may cause a heart attack or any kind of illness.” “And what? He just died?” I asked, raising a brow. “You can answer that. We are humans, and death because of illness, accidents, and murder is mainly the cause of our deaths. I don’t know about supernatural beings,” he answered, and he had a point. Although we could die the way humans did, unexplainable death was something common for our kind.

According to his knowledge, an autopsy was a common method used to determine the cause of death. Yonas died a wrongful death and Arthur could not bring himself to imagine cutting his body apart; if he allowed such a thing to happen, he would not be able to face his grandson in the afterlife.

“If you intervene in my affairs again, or stand in my way, I will kill you.” “Death is inevitable,” Ibragimov replied with dignity, holding my gaze. “Right,” I smiled. But death is different. I straightened up sharply and, throwing up my hand with a pistol, fired twice. The old man screamed as he swayed in his wheelchair, and his son, who had leaned forward to stop me, fell on his knees in front of me. - The most terrible death, Uncle Mark, - I said, returning the safety to its place and hiding the gun in a holster under my jacket, - is when our loved ones suffer. It is painful, merciless and very slow.

It’s satisfying to watch him struggle for air until he’s choking on his own blood. The best way to kill someone slowly is to puncture a vital lung or artery and watch the life slowly fade from their eyes. I can’t pretend that I didn’t get any satisfaction watching his life-sustaining blood drain from his body. I also can’t say that I didn’t enjoy watching him struggle for breath. Men like him deserve a terrible end, and I’m here to guarantee that they get what they deserve.

I asked "Killing is when life is taken, but death comes in many forms. There's the death of the body, and there's the death of the mind. What king Naga would do to you is called death of the mind." She said. First was the heart technique, now, was the death of the mind. There were indeed too many things I didn't know yet.

I know your father was quite the same? Dangerous ground she was walking on and especilly with Sarah around. But it seemed that when she had a well-defined reason there was no killing. Unfortunatelly yes, you knew him. He passed away recently… Oh, I am so sorry! I did not know. It must be hard for you dear! She was about ti burst out laughing but she contained herself. What happened? It was atragic death. It was an explosion and he was cought in the middle of it. Doctors could not do anything for him.

Then he muttered something—low, foreign. I didn’t need a translation. Long live the Volkovs. He clamped his jaw shut and bit down. A crunch—then the frothing started. Cyanide. Classic. Quick, brutal, irreversible. His body jerked and twisted as the poison did its work, muscles spasming in silent protest. His mouth foamed, the white froth bubbling at the edges, his eyes wide and unseeing. Cyanide worked fast, but not clean. It was an ugly way to go. There were better deaths—bullets, blades, even torture. At least those carried some honor.

Then, at the last second, I stepped sideways, making the man go stumbling past me. I reached down and drew the dagger from the dead man's chest and rattled around. The man turned around and charged again, but this time, I had already regained my stance. Still, on my knees, I leaned forward and threw the dagger. I watched as the blade spun end over end, then finally nestled itself into the man's heart. Two of the hefty men had just been murdered by me with their weapons. Then I thought they should have crafted their weapons less sharp. Perhaps, it might not be a fatal blow for them like this.