The Dead Are Asleep And Know Nothing Novels & Stories

I wasn’t sure how long I would stay like that, aware but not. “Ayda, little one, you aren’t fading. You are only sleeping. Wake up now. Time to shine.” Wake up? Was I sleeping? Was this all just a dream? Why could I suddenly hear Zin’s voice? Usually, I feel when death is coming or when I die, but this was so different I had no explanation for it. It didn’t matter. I was indeed dead. Maybe dead forever. Perhaps I can rest now, sleep. However long it passed, time didn’t allow that for sleep, even if I was tired. But then, I could suddenly feel my body and opened my eyes.

Please call out my name. Please call out my name one more time. Please, I can’t find you. Don’t leave me. Please come back. I’m being pulled under by nothing. What is nothing again? . . . . . . Nothing is a black unawareness of everything. “please wake up” This voice is familiar it’s calling me. I know it. I want to be with it. It has meaning. Open your eyes Kayla chase it. Don’t let it leave. Beep Beep

Duncan suddenly felt light and free as if I was dead and free of every burden he had ever felt. Am I dead!? He wondered, it felt that way, he had to be dead because that would make him feel that way Yes I was finally dead!? Is this how it feels to be dead!? He deliberated He continued to drift not knowing what exactly to expect and everywhere was so dark but he did not know if it was because his eyes were closed or there was just no light but he felt tranquil and smiled to himself

' The ruby dew sank into the earth as it was eagerly consumed, the weeds wafting and seeming to reach out for the bleeding wrist, hungry for more as the soil heaved erotically beneath as it began to spit out the dead. Glassy eyes peeled open, revealing empty sockets, but the ability to see was not down to eyes alone and the gifts of death and their new master were enough to guide. Their hearing was beyond the skills of the normal human, even beyond the blind. Each beat of the pulse, each sway of a blade of grass could be heard. Not many dragged themselves from their lonely bed. In the last few years only five people had been laid to rest there and they were the only ones intact enough to res

Kaiya I wake to the sound of the song I sang to the mates the day they exited the catacombs. Deborah stands next to me, a confused frown on her face. “They’re all dead,” she says. “They’re supposed to be,” I say without thinking. I have no idea where that little nugget of knowledge came from, but I know it to be true. I groan softly and sit up, looking around me. There's no light coming in from outside, but I can feel the full moon. A white sheet of snow cuts the outside world off from view.

“She is neither dead nor alive. Breathing, that’s all.” trembling violently, gasping, I looked around but saw no one and then heard a sudden sound of the machine. Avery gasped but didn’t open her eyes. She began to breathe but her soul was dead, the bond was dead. I was dead but she was alive… but dead. And that was the moment I understood she was in endless sleep. Alive but dead so I could see her every moment and realize how the result of my actions led me to the labyrinth of misery.

She always escaped early, always found somewhere to be that wasn’t there, with me. On my desk sat my journal. A page was open. I didn’t remember opening it the night before. I didn’t remember writing. But there it was: a page filled edge to edge with handwriting, my handwriting, except not, slanted, urgent, like someone drew words with trembling hands. “The dead don’t sleep. They are the light. They whisper. They remember what the living try to forget.” I slammed the journal shut. And for a long moment, I couldn’t breathe.

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.

Yeah everything looks all pristine and innocent during the day, but night time around the packhouse can be pretty fucking terrifying. And I’m the reaper himself. I have fourteen dead flies on my legs. Insects, yes, and definitely not sexy looking. But symbols of the males that tried to take me down and fuckin’ failed. But I know better than anyone, even my wolf… Flyers don’t live forever. We do our part to make this world a better place and try to leave it for those after us to prosper. Doze shakes his head and before he speaks, I already know why he’s pissed.

But I don't need to know everything that I would give him what he deserves. -"You are not very talkable aren't you?" Lilliana was watching me from my feet to my head she sipped her tea but her eyes never left me. My one finger still kept her curtains but my head turned to her. I wasn't used to talking to anybody. I didn't see a purpose in talking. The conversation is needed only for mortals and for dogs. We the dead ones don't need anything only our life and blood. And still, her breaking silence with this question made me smile. Her voice sounded ironic which was making her cute again.