My Death Wish: The Art of Dying
  • Reads 235
  • Votes 44
  • Parts 40
  • Time 6h 4m
  • Reads 235
  • Votes 44
  • Parts 40
  • Time 6h 4m
Ongoing, First published Sep 14, 2024
2 new parts
"Everybody faces death. But what if death wasn't just a concept? What if it was an entity, a person? Should we fear it, love it, or welcome it with open arms?"

Trinity knows what he wants-death. While others dream of long life, he dreams of ending his. But no matter how hard he tries, death eludes him. In his search for escape, he uncovers a darker truth, one that changes everything: death isn't just an end, it's an art. And in this art, Trinity may have found his true purpose.
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Nightwalker by Social_Introvert
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Time didn't matter to her. She got up when the sun did and tried to sleep when the sun went down. because of this seemingly endlessness, she's forgotten her name, she's forgotten her family and she's forgotten everything she use to be. Now she was nothing. Living on the streets of a town begging for money and food from travellers that didn't know who she was, unlike the rest of the town that thought of her as something unnatural even though she doesn't know why. Constantly abused by the townspeople who don't understand her, she is left to die in an alleyway after a horrible run in with three drunk men. She was expecting to die and have her corpse eaten by rats and other vermin. What she didn't expect was to be saved by a woman that was everything but human. "Do you want to live?" This woman asked and when she looked into herself she knew the answer, it came easy through her busted lips. "Yes." From that day on she became something else, something not human, something extraordinary and from that day forth she will serve this woman who saved her life and maybe one day remember her name or be given one by her new Mistress. Maybe one day she'll remember who she was and maybe she'll even find the one person that completes her soul. From that day forth she became a Nightwalker. Completed. This is a lesbian story and contains mature actions between females. There will be warnings at the beginning of the chapter if you do not wish to read such content.
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Walking Into Black

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Don't fear death. It does nothing for you. Death is at every turn; the challenge is if you choose to accept it or not. Don't fear pain. Pain is how you learn. Pain is the side-effect of life. If you live life fearing getting hurt...can you truly live life fully? I've felt pain. I've accepted death. I've lived, I've learned, I've drowned a few times. If all I have to show for it is small bundles of letters and words...so be it. That's more than I could have ever hoped for. Everything that means anything to me are just words. You can put anything into words. Anything and everything. You can put death into words. You can put pain into words. You can put fear into words. And I have. And you can read them, if you want. You can learn from them; learn to stop fearing, learn to stop living in the future, behind your mask. But only if you care enough to listen. I speak loud and clear, yet nobody can hear me. I am not hidden, yet nobody can find me. If they even try.