Prison Of The Dead Novels & Stories

the remaining prisoner replied as light flooded into the back through the opening doors. Skimming the two men inside still chained to their positions, one slumped to lie along the bench seat, Nick arched a brow. “You might be, but he’s dead.” He gestured to the deceased addict, and in horror, immediately the other prisoner scooted as far away as his shackles would allow. “Last chance,” he offered. “You help me get this one inside here, you can have his clothes and make your own escape. Otherwise, you’re staying until someone finds you with two reeking corpses.” “Yeah, okay.”

Ryan's eyes opened so wide you'd fear they would pop out. He's heard a thing or two about Death Prison. He never expected he'd ever be a prisoner here someday. He heard that it was a prison with zero number of guards, but no criminal had ever managed to escape. Ryan swallowed hard. As his vision adjusted, the full structure came into view – towering walls of black stone lined with strange metallic veins that shimmered faintly under the dying sunlight.

"YOU TOOK AWAY WHAT I LOVED THE MOST" After the first contact of the metal in his chest, the screams of agony and supplication began. The unfortunate boy did not deserve such hostile treatment, he did not even deserve to live in that place, but he had not decided where to be born or to be the son of the person that the head of that prison hated the most. His only crime was to have been born in such a horrible place where the whole world forgets people; since his mother had died, the mistreatment by the boss increased to the point of him wanting to commit suicide to be safe next to his loving mother. Probably the day of his death had arrived, amid agony and unconsciousness, he saw a glowing w

To help her childhood sweetheart, David Middleton, take my place studying abroad, my wife, Sharon Griffin, destroys my records and deliberately fills in false information, ensuring that I'm permanently denied a visa. She even severely injured my hands before sending me to the Behavioral Reform Center. My mother-in-law, Paula Brown, who has always treated me with affection, takes Sharon's side. "Kyle is so ungrateful. We gave him everything, and he still wanted to get a PhD abroad to find his biological parents. Who's going to take care of me if he's gone?" Sharon snorts. "He's just vain. When he found out I'd turned down Westbridge's offer of admission, he gave me the silent treatment an

Soon the gate creeks open and the stench in the air is the first to welcome me. There are several cages on both sides as we walk by. Some are empty. Others had decaying bones. But there is one. The one we're standing right in front of. It has two prisoners in it. One of the men ahead, steps in first, pulling out a pocket knife. " Another chance, please. Another chance," the prisoner begs. We all know his pleas are a waste of time. Without the slightest remorse, he sinks the knife into his neck with a deep jab.

2026. PRESENT. SEOUL. HELL MORGATHOR PRISON. ☠️ SORA ☠️ A lazy goat in a white gown walks in to change my IV drip to a new one and walks out. I could have just said a doctor. But, yeah, that’s fine. These particular ones in prison, they are annoying creatures, and they are getting on my last nerveeees. Factually, everything in this prison is pissing me the extreme, premium fuck off!

Supposedly. Eric replayed the footage again. His eyes narrowed. “No.” The word was quiet. Certain. “No, you didn't die that easily.” He reached for the remote. The news footage changed. CONVICTED KILLER LOTTIE SMITH DEAD IN PRISON FIRE. Then came the images. Smoke. Fire trucks. A ruined prison wing. Seventeen dead prisoners. A burned body identified through an identification bracelet. Eric watched without blinking. A slow, humorless smile appeared on his face.

Third person pov: The Council’s high-security prison was a cold, underground fortress made of white stone and reinforced steel. There were no windows, no clocks, and no sounds except for the hum of the air vents. In the center of the most secure cell sat Silas. He wasn't wearing his expensive silk suits anymore. He was in a plain gray jumpsuit, his hands and feet shackled to the floor. But even in chains, he didn't look like a prisoner. He sat with his back straight, a calm, bored expression on his face.

The hatred in Sarah's eyes almost swallowed him whole. "Melinda gave you her whole heart, and this is how you treated her? You killed her! Are you satisfied now?" "Mom, what are you talking about? How could Melinda be dead? Stop fooling around." Blake panicked. "Fooling around? Have a look for yourself!" Sarah threw a document in his face. It was my death certificate. In black and white, it clearly recorded my time and cause of death.

“The moment you touched the box… your biometrics restored the original 2023 baseline. After everything we deleted in the hospital—it’s all back. Everything.” Cold numbness swallowed me—starting at my fingertips, working straight to my core. I touched the latch to save Christian. To keep Leo from the state. And in doing it, I handed the keys back to the woman who built this prison. Every bit of blood I’d spilled, every mile I’d crawled through tunnels—it was all part of their plan. I hadn’t escaped; I followed the exact path they’d cleared.