Short Story Publisher
Death Short Stories
Photo: wallyir from morguefile.com
Death is painful. It ends a whole life. Sometime there are many unfolded stories around a death making death mysterious. Read short stories and poems on deaths and experiences of nears and dears after this tragic event.
As they were walking towards the Lighthouse entrance door – the other officer following them, Ronald heard a little buzz. It sounded typical . He waved instinctively and soon it moved away . (Reads: unavailable)
I will abide in you, I will live by your love and remember the price paid for my freedom. When live gets busy and confusing. I seem to find peace in you. (Reads: unavailable)
Two months later, the relationship ended. I was distraught. It was going well. There was no reasonable explanation for any of it. After that, I never heard from her again. (Reads: unavailable)
Story of the Month April’17 – May be you had created a beautiful heaven for her, in which she will be treated like a princess ,just to compensate all the worries that, You had deliberately given to her (Reads: unavailable)
Really, that was a stormy night haunt me a lot, especially the boy. As usual, next day, I went to the hospital. After my routine ward visit, I slowly walks to my room. (Reads: unavailable)
My hands were shaking; it was not fear but the cold wind that blew past me; terrorizing me as I rode my bicycle down the road. It was dark and I was getting late. (Reads: unavailable)
Looking at her was so unsettling but my eyes were fixated to hers, her sharp but hazy features and that wayward warming smile. She instigated the storm within me, above me, around me. (Reads: unavailable)
The laminated flooring he had known to have, appeared to be a dirty looking carpet. The air was filled with dust and smelt of cigars. There was a large coal fire burning on one side of the wall. (Reads: unavailable)
He stopped abruptly. She put her heel-brakes down too, waiting for him to now run back to her and embrace her in his well-toned arms. (Reads: unavailable)
Anchal was her mother’s copy. She was as beautiful and elegant as her mother. She loved her mother with her life. After her mother it was the turn of dance that she loved. (Reads: unavailable)