Sometimes People Die Novels & Stories

People die all the time, I should have gotten used to it. On the news you are always seeing the news of a murder, run over, kidnapping or suicide. People die, it's simple and easy to understand. It turns out that when you are on the other side, when you are the person who had your heart compressed by the pain of the loss of those you loved, none of the nonsense that religious say about death makes sense. Why did this happen? You wonder. Why is he and not me?

I saw how he gulped and looked to every grim reaper inside. "We will reap the soul today." There my suspicion was confirmed. Full of worried I barely looked at the people around us. They look at me weirdly, maybe because I enunciate alone. However, this is not the right time to think about that. "Why do they all have to die? Is it because of someone's Karmic Death again? I don't think that's right!" I scolded Gavin loudly. I could hardly control my emotions. It is not just a simple soul capture that will take place in front of me because now it is the death of so many people.

I cut them off with a shout, "WHAT IS THIS EXACTLY?!" El sighed, "It's nothing." "I know about D.A.C already." I sighed, "What's more to know?" El gulped, "Nothing." "Just say it." He sighed, "People involve with the corporation tend to die." "Stop being overdramatic." I reasoned out, "Everyone's going to die someday; no one lives forever." "What I mean is that people tend to die earlier than the year they should die." He shrugged, "It's a fact."

“Then how do you know what side you’re on is the right side?” “Because,” I replied, “We have people well over the age of 25 living in our communities. Death has been a rarity for us. And we all have powers.” I let the sentence hang between us for a few moments, giving it a chance to sink in. “No.” S breathed in shock. “No, that’s not possible.” “Believe it,” Jax said lightly. “It’s true.” “It can’t be. They die by 25. We have funerals for them. Each time it’s between 22-25.” She sounded slightly panicked.

He looked at me a little concerned. "I'm not leaving unless you come with me," I told him and squeezed his hand. He smiled back at me. "I don't know if you remember what happened the first time I visited your home and what I am, um, I'm Death and I'm immortal," I stated firmly and watched an array of emotions cross his eyes. "What does that even mean, you kill people and cannot die," he asked incredulously. I bit my lip and sighed.

Crystal countered back. I pursed my lips and shrugged. "I think the worst way to die is when you do not know about it. Like dying in one's sleep. You know when they're stabbed, butchered, jump off a plane, or are involved in an accident, they have that whole my-life-is-flashing-in-front-of-my-eyes moment but when they die of no cause at all, it's worse." They all stared at me like another head had sprouted out of the side of my neck like a blooming rose. "Damn," Crystal said. "That's kind of deep-ish."

He didn't expect Lucas to suddenly disappear! "Remember what I said. Good people and bad people won't die in this world. Only one kind of person will die, that is, stupid people."

What's the point of staying when the person she loves is gone? "On the twentieth day, a girl died at the grave in the cemetery in the west of the city. On the same day, the director of a large company - Chu Yan was found dead in the bathroom, still holding a plate on his body. picture of his poor wife." The media buzzed with news that two people died yesterday, both directors and people of great status in society. People out there who don't understand will say they're stupid, why end your life at the top like that?

Chapter thirteen: Wounds and Warriors Death, as they say, is a part of the circle of life. Whoever is born will some day die, unless, of course, you're some sort of alien who snuck into earth or a creature of the night like a vampire. But alas, life isn't a Hollywood fantasy movie with mythical beings and eternal youth. In the real world, death is a reality that we must face, just as I did when my father passed away. Despite clinging to hope for his recovery, the harsh truth eventually settled in—he was gone.

There are deaths that scream. The ones you hear about. The ones people write down. The ones that make sense to witnesses because they announce themselves with drama, with noise, with the sort of finality that allows the living to build a story around the ending. Thomas Reed does not die like that. He dies the way a candle goes out when the room has been too drafty for too long. There is a flicker. A stubborn attempt to remain. Then the flame simply… isn’t.