Story Of Death Novels & Stories

Her fingers hammered against the phone, the sharp tapping echoing her irritation. [Say something. Don't act like you're dead.] [If you don't want it, then return it.] Those cold, cutting words dragged me back to that bone-chilling night in the snow. I wanted to tell her that I was already dead—that I had frozen to death in the cheap down jacket she bought me. Winter in the north is brutally cold. So cold that, after failing to secure a hospital bed, I merely closed my eyes for a moment—and never opened them again.

At least Tessa would have a chance to attend a better school. But the day before we were supposed to leave to look for a place, I got a call from my younger brother, Henry Weber. After graduating high school, Henry had been working odd jobs far away. I only saw him once a year at Christmas. "Hattie, I wouldn't call unless I had no other choice. I'm sick. I need money for treatment. Can you help me ask Arthur for a loan?" The words hit me like a hammer. My vision went dark. Our parents died early. Henry was three years younger than me. We grew up relying on each other.

word, but yet the opportunity came for you to die. When I came to you with legions, you rather defended your lives and killed my people, instead of you dying, according to your belief," he looked at the king, and said, " You know what I think? I think you're all not knowing what you're saying, what you can't prove," uhn, the king made a well relaxed seating, " you free to think that way, my friend, you expected us to die were we stand without any effort, if we die without defending our lifes, it means we have committed suicide, as much as we love the taste of death, it must be taking by more stronger opponent, that is when we die an honorable death, " OK i see, then wage war against the que

The elves explained what happened to the vampires who couldn't believe what they were hearing. - Death - Death got up from the hut he had crashed into. He wanted to walk back, but knew better. Chances are that if he went back he would be met with more increasingly violent responses. 'Well at least I tried.' He thought, picking pieces of stone out of his robe. "Everything alright sir?" Rebecca and Julia asked. "Yeah I'm fine." Death responded. "I'm in the wrong here, so I had it coming." Rebecca and Julia weren't wondering who was right and wrong in the argument, but what it would take to launch someone like Death. They had heard stories of Saint, everyone at a certain age had, even still the

[ IN WHICH THERE IS WAR AND DEATH ] NOVEMBER'S P.O.V — There is something else you should know: I die at the end. Just like any other human being, I die. But there is something else that I'm not proud to say, and it is that; my lover is the reason I die. He killed me.

DEATH; DEATH IS an enchantress. Whether you’re young or old; rich or poor; there will come a day when be ensnared by it and succumb to the grave, eventually. The love could’ve been looming over your cotton-soft heart since your birth, or an acquired intimacy for it one day while sat in the wool; for as long as one had as ever trod shoe-leather.

Mom's words hurt me so much but I know she was just saying all that because she's hurt. “Mom, what really happened to my father?" I know he died. But how did he die? I want to know everything. I don't know why I asked her. I just wanted closure. I have lived seventeen years of my life without a father figure. Even without an uncle. My mother made sure I went to a girls-only school just to keep me away from boys. I just want to know why she's so bent on doing all that. “Your father died even before you died. I don't know what other story you want to hear. If you need any other story, go to your father's grave and ask him! Ungrateful child!" She scowled.

Aurelia’s POV Suzy’s face was etched with shock as I concluded the story. I didn't expect any other expression from her. This was bound to happen. This was why I never told anybody about the real story of Joachim’s death because it sounded foolish. I could have helped him if he wanted. I could have healed him if he had wanted. But he had chosen to go, like he had a suicidal wish or something. Suzy shook her head in disbelief as she held her cup of coffee, which seemed to have gotten cold. It was harsh for her to find out that her father hadn't died the hero’s death that they all thought he had. But he was still brave for what he had done.

“What history?” The woman looked toward something neither of them could see. “A story that keeps ending the same way.” The taller man frowned. “What story?” “A girl.” The wind moved again. “Three boys.” Another pulse of silver light. “Love.” The room darkened. “And Death.” The shorter man crossed his arms. “That’s incredibly unhelpful.” The woman ignored him. “It happened before.” Silence. “It happened again.” Silence. “And It will happen again.”

… One day, I suddenly saw the news on the television. "The Jones family was murdered. None of the family members lived." My heart skipped a beat. I then saw a photo of my family on the screen. "It is reported that the murder was committed by Susan Jones, the wife of the old director of Jones Group..." None of them survived. Charles, Derek, Samantha, Jenson, and Susan—all of them died. "Mrs. Jones left a suicide note, claiming that this was done for her daughter Celine..." I could no longer process the words I heard after that.