The Sweet Hereafter Novel Novels & Stories

And slowly, Madraya’s soul forever left the earthly realm. THE END

Just let me rewrite this…Let me rewrite me. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Then… nothing. No nurses rushing in. No family holding her hand. Just the sound of rain. And silence. ——— There was a bright flash of light. The first thing she noticed was the warmth. Followed by the feeling of soft sheets that might have just been under the sun, then drizzled with lavender scent. A quiet hum from outside…people? Elara's eyes flew open. She sat up, heart slamming against her ribs. Her hands were smooth. Her wrists unscarred and her hair long, thick, not hacked off during another "episode."

His cum leaked out slowly, warm and sticky on her thighs. Mia looked up at him, cheeks flushed. "This doesn't mean anything." Ethan smirked, brushing his lips over hers. "Sure. Just like three months ago." They cleaned up quickly, wiping down with paper towels from the sink, straightening scrubs, picking up scattered charts. The room smelled of sex now, Mia avoided his eyes as she fixed her hair. As they stepped into the hallway, the night shift nurse passed by, giving them a curious glance but saying nothing. Mia's legs still trembled, the ache between her thighs a reminder of how thoroughly he'd wrecked her.

"We must take her now, sir. They're back!" The world went black. Selena didn’t remember collapsing. One second she was staring at the sky, numb and broken. And the next, nothing. When her eyes opened, all she saw was a ceiling painted gold. This wasn’t heaven nor was it hell, it was familiar. She had seen this kind of luxury before, back at William’s residence. But this was something else entirely. "You’re finally awake." The voice was deep. It held no warmth, only a quiet intensity that made her heartbeat quicken. Selena tried to sit up, but her body screamed in protest.

"I suspect that you're just baiting us. Why can't you talk about this? Is it about Giselle or the heiress?" "I'm guessing that Giselle is the real long-lost heiress. I'm basing this off the years I've spent reading novels." "You and I have the same interests! That's always how it goes in novels." "If Giselle really is the heiress of an elite family, then she's the ultimate winner in life! I can't even begin to describe how jealous I am!" "Exactly! A prestigious family background, outstanding looks, a successful career, and a lover from another elite family? Those are the usual setups for main characters in novels! I didn't think that they existed in the real world either! Wow, I'm dying from

“Damn it.” My stomach growled almost immediately after, loud and completely shameless, like it hadn’t just violently evicted everything I’d given it two minutes ago. Hunger was a rude and wicked thing. I left the bathroom and walked back into my room, still grumbling under my breath. My eyes landed on the brown carton Nyla had forgotten. The hot sauce. A small smile crept onto my face. Maybe meeting her wasn’t a coincidence after all. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

"You'll never find out, Yvonne!" I merely leaned over and whispered a few words into her ear. Wendy stared at me, her eyes widening in surprise. "How could you possibly know that?" I didn't respond to her question. It was then that Wendy suddenly collapsed, blood streaming from her facial orifices as she died, and the police eventually took her corpse away. In the end, the graduation banquet came to an imperfect end.

He almost felt warm all over, and for the first time he noticed just how breathtakingly beautiful she was. Christian Ayettey groaned inwardly. What the fuck was happening to him?

I always thought the hereafter is a place where you get to reunite with the people you loved, spending your eternity in their company. I was wrong. It’s nothing like that. It’s not bad, just not what I expected. As it turns out, the afterlife is a strange place. There’s nothing here. Just endless white and this warm, comforting light. I’ve never known peace like it. I don’t even care that I’m all alone. “Willow?”

Each thrust was so painful with the pressure that grates her soul, making her fall into the grip on her throat. With regret for those last words she said, her life slowly drained out of her body. Her body limped but held in place by the couch. He could feel her death, still, he didn’t stop. A mind preoccupied with Sarah. It felt good, beyond a worldly pleasure to have her limp on his hand–not Britney, Sarah. Hours later, the maid came knocking on his bedroom door with a tray of coffee in her trembling hand. The dark, shiny wooden door is hell's entrance.