The Unquiet Dead A Novel Novels & Stories

Jeni watched me, nervously. "I think somethings...wrong...with..." I said as I tried to stand up, collapsing to the floor. My last sight was Jeni's feet. They were pretty cute. I blacked out. ---------------------------------------------- Family Reunions ---------------------------------------------- I woke up groggy, not myself at all. I was in a comfortable if tiny bed, in a small room. There were no windows and only one door, which was metal and looked sturdy. Like a door at a jail. There was also a desk with an uncomfortable-looking chair, a lamp and two books. One of the books was a blank notebook with a pen. The other was 'The Quiet of Solitude'. I recognized the author's name.

"Are you sure it is our house?" The investigator on the other end spoke in a calm, even voice. "The initial report shows a young female. Cause of death appears to be internal bleeding from a ruptured organ. Estimated time of death is over three hours ago. Based on the scene and family information, we believe the deceased is your older daughter, Nova Vance."

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.

The sadness in her tone was heavy, matching the gloom of the ruins. I signaled the advance. If the outside looked neglected, the interior was a graveyard of memories. It was silent…..unnervingly so. How am I supposed to find the eldest woman in a ghost town? A heavy thud startled me. I spun around to see Novel sliding from Kitty’s back, hitting the dirt. I rushed to her side, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wanted to roar at the wolf, who at least had the grace to look guilty, but the sight of Novel’s pale, unconscious face silenced my anger.

R. In the deathly q uiet of the study, the only sound was Mimi’s hand, moving unconsciously, protectively, to cover her stomach.

Eventually, I moved on to a new home, a new job, and a new life. One day, I received a call from the police. The officer said, "Ms. Sawyer, good evening. We found a man who froze to death overnight at a cemetery. "He was heavily intoxicated. We traced his records and found that you were listed as his emergency contact." I exhaled slowly. "I used to be, but not anymore. Please proceed with your standard protocols." "Understood. Sorry to disturb you." After hanging up, I looked toward the sky and whispered a quiet prayer. I asked the universe to send kindness to those who truly needed it.

ᯓ★ BREAKING NEWS: 30-year-old Ginger Cadette, the owner of the Bar & Life passed away yesterday due to brain cancer. Her family kept her burial private. With hard work and persistence, she successfully started and ran Bar & Life. But when she discovered that she had brain cancer, the business was passed on to her twin brother, Carter Cadette.

Black as the darkest night hair against a crisp linen pillow, brown skin against a blindingly white sheet, and tiger’s eyes burning with deliberate cruelty and triumph into hers. In horrified rejection of the imagery that had sprung into her mind, Lara Anderson shuddered violently, dimly aware that she was still in the grip of severe shock. Abruptly, she was dredged from her turmoil by the insistent shrill of the telephone in the hall. Reluctantly she answered the summons, carefully shutting the lounge door behind her so that her father was not disturbed.