Muerte Familiar Novels & Stories

It’s not everyday you have a labeled sociopath in the family but here we are. He took my wife and family away from me. Broke his mother’s heart and she passed not long after Margo from a broken heart most likely. When the doctors found my widow.. they had explained to his mother and him that she had recently suffered a miscarriage. God rest both their souls.

She looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. "She's dead, isn't she?" I nodded, swallowing against the pain of it. "She killed our whole family," Mara breathed, breaking her gaze. "I'm happy to hear she is gone." "Oh–" "She was very bad," Mara nudged a piece of seaweed with her foot. "Yes… she was. But that doesn't make losing her.... She was your sister. I can't imagine how you feel. It's okay to be hurt, and sad over her… over her death."

Hurting doesn’t disappear. We are children of God, but our ways cannot be mended beyond a record. Is sin of not each still? We don’t give way to death. Death enters in. The negativity brings its bloom. We die to be still; we do not move. Then what happens? Do you know? I repeat, do you know? What surety do you have in it? To die young is still no escape. What you leave behind walks behind you, in front of you, on your way. They kill, they don’t refrain. Yes! Most people who die young by heart attacks or any psychosomatic illness are killed by their relatives. They are tortured to new terms each day, each moment, like insane. Hurting you from within, weakening what gives you strength from wit

Our house saw more than its fair share of life — and death. My great-uncle lived with us when I was young, and hislaughter became part of the rhythm of the house. When he passed away in our home, I watched my mother sit by his bedside until his last breath. She whispered comfort until the end, showing me what compassion really looked like. When my dad’s father — my grandfather — died, it was in our home too. The air that day felt heavy and reverent, as if the house itself understood what was happening. Then came the night of the phone call — the one that changed everything.

Off of another person’s death. We head into the funeral home, I feel like I am going to pass out. My heart is beating so fast, it’s going to pop out of my chest. Besides losing my mother, I’ve never had to deal with this. Losing my mom was bad, it’s a different kind of love. Losing my spouse, my love, my soulmate… and my child is in remembrance today as well. They’re heading home together, and they forgot me.

"Move away from me." Grandpa looked down at him. "You say she should be near you. But when she was alive, you locked her in the cellar. You wouldn't let her near you. You left her alone in the dark to die." His voice was unsteady now. "I'm taking her home, to the deep forest. I will place her soul crystal next to her grandmother's photo. Her grandmother loved her. At least when she's gone, there'll be one person who does." He bent and lifted my soul crystal to his chest, wrapped it inside his coat, and turned for the hill.

This meeting cannot come fast enough. They also remind me of Iymrae’s older sister who died two years ago in a house fire. Again, there was no way this could be possible. She was married to a human. He also died in that house fire. From what I was told they never had any children. Something is not adding up. Raf and I jump as the door to the house slams against the wall signally my sister’s arrival. They dropped down across from us. I showed them the pictures, and I could see the confusion slip onto their faces.

You are right to think that because that is what I had thought until 5 days ago. I guess seeing your parents get murdered in front of your eyes and seeing their blood and life slowly drain out of their body isn't the same as seeing your neighbour die from a heart attack when you are 9. Or seeing an old man die from old age. Or see a young kid get hit by a car seconds after you see him. I have seen a lot of death but they were nothing compared to what I was going to witness today.

“You need to prepare yourself.” I knew what he was talking about. He had told me about it many times, how wolves can die of a broken heart. It was worse though, if mom died, father would too. They had been bound together forever. Aunty Kendra pushes the door open. The curtains were closed. Mom was laid in the bed, blankets pulled up around her. Her skin was sunken around her closed eyes, her skin a deathly white colour, her breaths were slow and shallow.

I said standing up from the bed and quickly getting ready. *********** As I sat beside my grandmother in the quiet solitude of her cozy living room, a sense of melancholy settled over us. The recent battle had taken a toll on our family, claiming not only my grandfather Constantine but also reopening the wounds of the past. The memories of my mother Natalya, who had passed away long ago, resurfaced, adding another layer of sadness to our grieving hearts.