Mha Death Novels & Stories

"Matt. The tall handsome tanned guy who can't stop staring at you in the hallway. Drives a red Porsche and hangs around 3 dudes? Another version of trolls?" I arched my brows and wondered who was that before heading to class. I didn't want to think about the rumours so as soon as I was done with classes I left for home. To my surprise, nobody was in. I switched on the TV and nothing that interested me was being aired. Suddenly breaking news about the death of two DEA officers caved in. It was sad though seeing such young men lose their lives in the line of duty. "Poor souls, handsome and young gone too soon", I murmured.

Death was a tall 6'5", slim man with mostly pale skin. His arms, like his legs, were pitch black. His hair was long, about shoulder length, and almost as dark as his limbs. Death was wearing a dark purple robe that went down to the top of his shins with a hood on the back. The sleeves were long enough to cover his lanky arms. His office was a simple room, about eight-hundred square feet, with grey walls. There was a desk and a plaque behind the desk that reads "Memento Mori" Death didn't care for the plaque and often saw it as kind of a joke. He was given it as a gift though, so he kept it hung up at all times, hoping his new recruits wouldn't notice.

The last time we met it was quite emotional but I'm glad she is really accepting this. “You don't know how much this means to me, for you to be here, what about Aunt Maggie how is she?” “She is taking care of the circles' matter and things got more complicated when Mahatma's death reached the circle,” Zayne said nonchalantly, my jaws dropped at the news “Mahatma is dead?” I asked again to be sure. How? What the heck? Who killed her? Now things are far more complicated than I'd imagine, how is Axel going to continue with the investigation now that our only source to find out who's causing all this ruckus is dead?

Seeing me enter, the corners of Gina's mouth curled into a sinister smirk. The next second. Boom—! A massive heat wave swallowed me instantly. The bomb detonated right at my feet. Agonizing pain tore through my consciousness. My body was tossed like a kite with a cut string, smashing heavily into a pile of rubble. In the last second before my consciousness plunged into total darkness, through the overwhelming firelight, I saw a scene that would be branded into my memory forever. My husband, Marco, the man who sent me to die with bare hands.

“You’ve always been sickly. I suggested taking you to the hospital, but you refused. Jacob told me long ago that something was off about you, but I still chose to believe you instead of him!” He called for his bodyguards to lock Rachel up. As he stared at my body silently, he used a clean cloth to wipe away the blood on my face. He called out my name repeatedly, but no one answered. In the end, Mark could no longer hold back his sadness. He fell to the floor and covered his eyes in anguish. “Jane’s dead… I killed her… “I’ll pay for your life… Jane, just wait for me…” I watched coldly, but my resentment grew.

He then asked, "Wait... what are you doing here?" "Its my dad's birthday today," Ashleigh stated. "I was cleaning his tombstone as I do every year on his brithday and date of death." She looked at the grass beneath her as she went on, "We used to go to Aunt Maria's all the time. So I couldn't handle being there today. So I'm sorry."

If it ever did, he would dismiss it as a mere gossip. Marcus continued staring through the windows as the greenery rushed past them, while he turned back inwardly to something that was troubling his soul. His mind told him he had made a mistake. His ego told him that what he did was right. It was not every day that one got to deal with a witch, even if it was a little boy. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he had not nearly choked because the boy, Jason was looking at him. Dean had died soon after. Problem was he didn’t know how powerful the boy was.

Cassian inquired. "No," Darren replied. "But…" "But what?" Cassian asked quickly. "Well, before that young man died, he was also dancing. According to his mother, it was the same kind of dance Tate did before he died." "Oh?" Cassian's eyes glinted thoughtfully. Darren continued, "Those people who died for no apparent reason all seemed to have danced before their deaths. It's very strange." "It really is strange," Cassian echoed. He'd never heard of anyone dancing right before they died.

Mom's complaints were cut short as she followed the officer, going deeper and deeper inside the precinct. "Where are we going?" she couldn't help but ask. No one answered her, but she found out very soon. In the large morgue, the officer led Mom and Cindy to stand beside a body. "Here's Ms. Flora Saddler. We've found her for you." Mom lifted the white sheet with trembling hands. Cindy leaned in as well. But the moment she saw my lifeless, still-open eyes, she screamed and collapsed to the ground. All color drained from her face.

And if it is wrong, it will not correct the mortal first. It will test the one who made her visible. Death.