Welcome To Death Row Meme Novels & Stories

One blazing midsummer day, 49 of my colleagues and I are suddenly added to an unfamiliar gaming group chat. A notification window popped up with a message. "Attention, players. This is a survival game set in an apocalyptic world. Players who succeed in surviving for a week will get a share of the 100 million dollar prize pool." The system then dropped a ten-million-dollar gift that anyone could claim, as if it were afraid that we wouldn't believe it. My colleagues, who at first believed that we had somehow gotten ourselves involved in a scam, immediately changed their tune when they got their hands on the money.

Layla's fans sang her praises, saying that she was kind, beautiful, and the best sister in the world. It was raining on the day they cremated my remains. Layla carried the urn containing my ashes and pretended to shed a few tears. I moved toward her. Then, I tried to punch and kick Layla to try and get her hands off me. It was so revolting. Everything about this world sickened me. I dropped to the ground after having exhausted myself. Then, I watched as they put me inside a small box. The words, "Our dearest daughter, Hazel Larson", could be seen on the rectangular tombstone. How ironic.

There was no news, no information about them, not from any person or even the internet. Oliver was relieved and believed that she died and that they won the game. But Thomas, he could never get rid of the fear that someday they would come back and get their revenge. And now here he was, in front of his warehouse, watching it burn to ash, and reading the note that was written with blood in the same way as 6 years ago. The effect it held on him was similar too. He stepped back but tripped and fell on the floor. He began longing for air and started coughing loudly.

Just the note. He sighed and slipped it back into his desk drawer. His phone buzzed. Another message from the same unknown number. Ryan froze. Slowly, he opened it. Delete the memory card if you want. A second message arrived almost immediately. It won't matter. I still have copies. Ryan's breathing became shallow. Then a third message appeared. Tomorrow. 8:00 p.m. Come alone. Or the truth will find its way to Olivia. Ryan stared at the screen. His hands trembled.

“Then you walked into my life and proved me wrong.” Before I could answer, Pestilence loudly cleared his throat. “If you two are done making the rest of us sick with all that romance…” War snorted into his beer. “…we’ve actually got something important.” Death sighed dramatically. “Can’t I have five minutes with my girlfriend?” “No,” Famine replied flatly. “You already had all night.” The entire clubhouse erupted into laughter. I buried my face against Death’s shoulder, groaning while he chuckled. “Traitors,” he muttered at his brothers.

"Your wolf is dead, and you probably won't make it past three days. You should get your affairs in order." Was I dying? But I hadn't found Clara yet. If I died, would Dad and Mom finally forgive me?

the more he clicked, the furious he became. "What the fuck is that?" It was another guy standing at the door. He came in to stare closer at the screen. "Isn't that Pence?!" He looked at Deathrow and Diggy in confusion. "What's the meaning of this? Are they dead?!" "Calm the fuck down, Shorty!" Deathrow yelled at him. "And close that door behind you, will ya?" Shorty walked fully into the room, closing the door shut. No one would be able to come in from outside if it's sealed on the inside with an additional bolt, so he sealed the door with the bolt. He folded his hands. "What's going on?"

It's called Stories By Menna, hope you join, here is the link:https://www.f******k.com/groups/343882321009167/ sending you love and appreciation.

You’re dead, Sena. @Death Wish Hi everyone! This is the death wish of your Author, drop comments and review! Love you all! Thank you so much

His death is on me. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! MURDER!