Resurrectees Anonymous

Resurrectees Anonymous

  • WpView
    Reads 42
  • WpVote
    Votes 3
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing11m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Aug 18, 2023
WpInfo
Fiction
Paranormal
[CONTENT WARNING - SUICIDE, DEATH, VIOLENCE, DRUG/ALCOHOL USE/ADDICTION - this story contains frequent and graphic mentions of all triggering topics mentioned above, and is partially centered around them.] "We were meant to enter the afterlife, but never to leave it." In a small, stuffy room, on the third floor of a dingy apartment building, seven people from all walks of life meet once a month to discuss the one thing that brings them together: they all claim to have returned from the dead. But every one of them tells a different tale of death and resurrection - and no one can agree on who, if any of them, lies correct, or if everyone is merely being dishonest. When the testimony of a prospective eighth member comes into play, it may push them each over the edge in a crazed attempt to prove their own story correct... no matter the cost. Cover Image Credit: Pixabay on Pexels (Creative Commons Zero License)
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • The experiment.
  • .Long Lost.
  • Everything Is Eternal (Book Two)
  • Project: Vitae
  • Never
  • Truth Or Dare 3
  • Goodnight
  • Lovely Soul (Fifth Harmony/You)
  • Seven Deadly Sins

They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines