The Life We Bury Novels & Stories

"Faking your own death is one thing, but you could've at least left your sister's body behind. At least then Jon Cole would've given up." "He's practically gone insane searching for her everywhere. It's honestly pitiful to watch." Candice lounged lazily against the sofa, her expression unreadable. "I was afraid Austin Ryles would be too upset, so I had my sister's body cremated right away. If Jon wants to keep searching, let him." "After what his family did to force me into submission back then, this is the least they deserve. Think of it as payback." Bitterness flashed through her eyes.

It was something i never expect to see. "Celebration of life, you left us too soon, you shall forever remain in our heart, Max. There was a picture of her attached to the post. My mind went blank, my heart sunk, my hands were shaking. I could not believe what i was reading. It had to be a joke. There was a date and venue attached to the post. The Burial was taking place tomorrow. I had to see for myself if it was true or not. I leaned back against the leather seat, the city lights blurring past the tinted glass. For years, i had buried the past beneath layers of success and sophistication. But now, with one news, the foundations trembled.

The line crackled. Then the feed cut to black. The silence that followed was suffocating. Luca turned to me. “You said you buried him yourself.” “I did,” I whispered. He stepped closer, voice low. “Then what did you bury, Amara?” “The dead are patient. They wait for the living to forget.”

KHLOE The drums rolled and whispered their poetry in ballads , a sad tune to mourn the man that had died, a commoner , a father and a friend , His burial and passage to the after life be will forgotten so quickly in the heart of the other sympathizers but will definitely leave a print in the heart of his loved ones . The burial of the commoners were easy , two coins on each eyes for the ferry man and a few drums roll as his body is burnt till ashes to prevent an incarnation.

The silence of the woods is no longer peaceful. It’s heavy. It weighs a thousand tons. We spend three days burying the dead. The cult members—the "Liberated"—who stood on the porch and took bullets for us. We dig the graves by hand, using shovels found in the shed. The earth is cold, resisting every strike. "We freed them," I whisper, leaning on my shovel, sweat dripping into my eyes. "Just to get them killed." Alex is waist-deep in the soil next to me. He looks older. The grey in his stubble is more pronounced.

My ears began to bleed. The burial wasn't in a cemetery. We took my father back to the estate, deep into the woods where the modern world couldn't reach. Leo’s teams had cleared out the military "cleaners," and for a few hours, the land was ours again. We buried him beneath an ancient oak tree, its roots intertwined with the very soil the Council had tried to poison. As the dirt settled, I felt a strange vibration in my marrow. It wasn't the jagged "radio station" of the Council. It was a low, steady hum—like a heartbeat.

As if he could barely believe that I existed. Finally, he tried to speak. "Lyra, I..." His voice cracked. "I thought you were dead. I thought I lost you. When I saw the blood, your dress, I thought..." “You buried me,” I said, matter of fact. He flinched. "We searched for two weeks. We discovered a feral assault. The council said..." “You buried me,” I copied, but harder, this time. “You tried for two weeks and then you quit. Had a funeral. Moved on."

The people who were buried were only selected, and given that Stacy is a public figure now, the family decided not to invite the media to cover what was happening. "Pardon my language, but... is my life a living fvcking joke, Eli?" "Someday, you'll find the significance of everything you're suffering these days. You'll find the reason beneath the tears you've shed. Someday." Through my fingers tightening my hold to her shoulders, from here Corrine and I watched together as the coffin gradually lowered to be buried underground, and those white roses thrown by some of her relatives and friends signified her memories she left with us, with each of us, will never be forgotten.

"The first key has been buried beneath the only grave that has never held a body." No one said anything for a long moment. Then Alexander broke the silence, the way he always did. "Great. Love that for us. From an exploding mountain straight into a graveyard." Nobody laughed. But nobody corrected him either. Miles away, in a private car winding down from the ruined mountain road, Edmund Hale sat with his coat still dusted in ash and snow. He was alive. He hadn't expected to be, not entirely, and some quiet part of him had almost been disappointed.

“You are right, lets bury her.” “No!”