Pulp Fiction Dead Storage Novels & Stories

A gay couple who are in love with one another are separated by cultural rules and they end up dead after they tried to elope

With Zurielle and Ace now a couple and with Red Back dead, what could possibly go wrong? Zurielle and Ace are in for a big surprise.

I am so dead! He is sucking my blood!!! The feeling is driven me crazy...However, that was my very choice.

Reena’s life was simple… until one accident changed everything. A violent crash, a journey through darkness, and when she opens her eyes— Reena finds herself inside the novel she was reading all night. The novel’s name was— “The Dirty Mafia.” But the biggest truth is— She is not the heroine. She is not even a minor character. Reena has become the villainess. A villainess whose death is written in the most brutal way— and that death belongs to the hands of the mafia king, a man with no mercy in his heart. Now Reena knows everything. She knows the ending that awaits her. Betrayal. Blood. And a death that spares no one. The story is no longer fiction— It has become her reality. Now she has only one choice: Rewrite her fate. But when the mafia king is the most dangerous man alive, and the one who is supposed to save her is the same man who came to kill her— What can Reena do? Will she change her story, or will the same horrific ending finally consume her?

"Long ago...the werewolves went extinct and were slowly forgotten by the rest of the world - and never heard of, except in fiction stories. Until a group of selfish scientists rose together and decides to artificially create their own army of these creatures." ༺༺♡♡༻༻ Amara’s world crumbled when she witnessed werewolves kill her parents. Her vengeful uncle raises her, teaching her just one thing: How to hate and destroy the werewolves. When she gets older, she was suctioned off to infiltrate a werewolf pack, she’s horrified to discover that the alpha, Kyle, is her mate. Torn between her mission and the bond, she plots their downfall. As she uncovers shocking truths about her uncle and her past, Amara’s loyalty wavers. When the pack faces a deadly attack orchestrated by her uncle, Amara must decide where her true allegiance lies. With her newfound family and love on the line, can she save the pack, or will her uncle's sinister plan succeed?

The death of her husband broke Farrah in many ways, yet this peculiar ghost calls from her dead husband seems to arouse hope inside of her, making her think that her husband, whom everyone treated as dead, might be alive somewhere waiting for her rescue. Thus, she began her journey in search for her missing spouse—she did succeed—but what she didn't expect was that he became not only a zombie, but a zombie monarch. Can love between a human and a creature hated by many survive all of the hurdles thrown at them by fate and humans alike? *** SET IN MID-APOCALYPSE.

While inspecting my company’s cold-chain operations, my wife, Mandy Snow, and the college boy I’d been sponsoring suddenly vanished. As I passed the cabinet storing the research supplies, a stream of floating comments suddenly flashed before my eyes. “That was way too close! Jeff Miller almost caught them. Good thing Mandy reacted fast and dragged her boy toy into the storage cabinet.” “But that cabinet is about to be locked up and shipped to the Antarctic research station. Are those two trying to turn themselves into ice sculptures?” I froze. My wife was cheating on me right under my nose? I was just about to pull open the cabinet door when my wife’s assistant hurried over and forced a smile, blocking my way. “Mr. Miller, the seal on this cabinet was just waxed and hasn’t dried yet. Careful, or you’ll get your hands dirty.” The floating comments appeared again. “That was so close! The assistant’s pretty sharp. Once the female lead gets out, she totally owes him a car.” “No wonder she’s the lucky heroine. She always gets out of trouble. I seriously can’t wait to watch her sweet romance with her boy toy.” Looking at the comments in front of me, I let out a cold laugh. “These are critical supplies for the research team. To make sure nothing goes wrong, seal the cabinet right now.” “Go get a welder. Weld the door shut.” The assistant froze, and so did the floating comments. “What the hell? This evil supporting male character is brutal. The two people inside aren’t wearing a thing.” “Help! If the door gets welded shut, the male and female leads are going to drift at sea for a month and freeze into specimens!”

Asha has had a rough go of life, seemingly always ending up in situations that are the opposite of her namesake. She breaks up with her ex a few months prior to halloween and the day of the dead and takes a vow of celibacy that, little does she know, a dead ex has used to bargain his way out of hell. He didn’t come back to become her angel, just emerged from the shadows to drink her light and hopefully turn out her halo. She prays for a guardian angel to hold her through these difficult times but her gift is a territorial demon.

I can feel the heat of my predator’s breath on my neck. For him I will never be just a memory. I’ll always be a goal, always the thing that lies ahead just out of reach. If I have anything to do with it, that’s where I’ll remain. But I know his hunger, his patience, his relentlessness. His heart beats once for every ten times mine does. And I’m so tired now. I wonder here in the frigid cold if the chase will end tonight and which of us will be dead, really dead, when it’s done.

The tale of a widow's harrowing journey through grief and peril into the cold remnants of a dead world. Damon Sharpe had in part found victory, he believed, in his battle to unearth a truth obscured by time. By autumn, he was dead, leaving to his wife Anne a house of unfulfilled wishes, remnants, and the key to the enigma of his obsession, the Mourner’s Cradle. A journey through grief and peril delivers Anne Sharpe from her home in St. Charles to the faraway skeletons of a long-dead civilization where she will find the desperate answers she seeks…or die trying. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing