What Rhymes With Grave

My grandfather was a thief. He stole my grandmother’s name and her identity. He used them to escape a poor, forgotten corner of the rural West, then ran off with another woman. He became a law professor, standing at podiums and lecturing about justice. She became a famous painter, giving interviews about integrity. My grandmother spent her whole life trapped in that same dying farmland. Everyone called her an old maid. She never stopped waiting for him. Not even on her deathbed. Fifty years later, I clawed my way out of that godforsaken place on the strength of two generations, my grandmother and my mother. I made partner at a top law firm. It was graduation season. I sat in the lead interviewer’s chair. Across from me sat a girl. Polished. Confident. The most outstanding graduate from the best law school in the state. I opened her résumé and flipped through it page by page. Then I stopped at the family information section. I stared at that name for a very long time. I looked up at her and said quietly, “You didn’t get the job.”

On the day I rejected Isabelle Hale, Wall Street's newest golden girl, everyone thought I had lost my mind. She had everything: a Wharton degree, a national finance championship, a perfect family name, and a résumé polished enough to make doors open before she even knocked. But I knew what was hiding behind that name. Fifty years ago, her grandfather stole my grandmother's acceptance letter, her New York scholarship, and the future she had earned with her own hands. He used them to escape an Appalachian coal town with another woman, then built himself into a celebrated Ivy League professor who lectured rich students about ethics. My real grandmother, Grace Walker, was left behind in coal dust and shame. My mother grew up carrying the weight of that stolen life. They lifted me out anyway. I made it all the way to Manhattan, to a glass conference room at Northbridge Capital, where Isabelle sat across from me in a black suit tailored like victory. She thought her family name would protect her. She thought I would bow. Instead, I closed her file and said, "You didn't pass." By the next morning, they had fired me, dragged my name through the mud, and turned a press conference into my public trial. They forgot one thing. I didn't climb to the top of Wall Street to beg for a seat at their table. I came to take back every name, every chance, and every voice they stole from women like us.

I sat in the driver's seat as the GPS chimed, "You've arrived at Northpoint Corp. Check-in successful." I looked up. Graves. Nothing but graves. My phone buzzed. My boss tagged me in the group chat: [Zane Zander, system says you checked in ten minutes ago. Where the hell are you? The whole company's waiting. Learned how to spoof your GPS to slack off?] Cold sweat slid down my back. I stared at the fresh headstone outside my window. My photo was on it. My hands shook. I tried to send my boss a video—no signal. Just dead bars. No service. So how did I check in? Worse— In the rearview mirror, someone in my exact outfit rose slowly from behind a dirt mound. Could it be... Was I already "dead"?

Grace Manninhattan is stuck in a long-distance marriage at her mother's wish.He is Mr.Charmond, a close friend of her mother for a long time.A very difficult marriage, because their marriage allowed Grace to see the figure of the man she called father.And avenge the pain she and her mother have felt since Grace was born.Grace anger when she finds out that Mr.Emeron,her father.Will take her to marry a man of greater wealth. She devised various ways for her father to die by her own hands.All of these plans never worked because of Mr.Charmond's concern for Grace so as not to make big trouble for her own father.Grace grew up as a stubborn teenager, never caring about everything Mr.Charmond said. Instead she took advantage of her husband wealth for her great desire to kill Mr. Emeron.When Grace was about to succeed in giving several knife stabs to her father chest, she had to fail when Mr.Charmond tried to protect Mr.Emeron from Grace dark eyes. The incident took place tragically, even big events belonging to billionaires immediately turned terrible.Mr.Charmond was unconscious and fell into a coma, Grace had to deal with the police because the attempted murder that she had done had failed.A tough situation made Mr.Charmond have to make a decision for Grace.Whether he should save or just let Grace in prison.

What would you do if you saw a woman who really looks like you in your dream murder someone? What would you do if you know that it is not you but when you woke up the dead body is already under your bed but there is no evidence or even a single sign of murder? What would you do if you heard voices and saw scenes that made you insane? And what would you do if you’re the only one who came back from the dead after the bus accident? Find out the life of Irish Stephen who came back from the dead after the bus that she was riding together with her friends, colleagues and boyfriend fell off a cliff that made it totally wreck. People call her “Lazarus” and “Lucky” for returning back from the dead but for her it is a curse because after an accident she knows that there is something wrong with her. She starts seeing things, seeing people that she doesn't know, and hearing voices that she thought is just an effect of the accident. Only her friend Devon understands her and helps her by consulting his friend named, Luna, who knows about spiritual awakenings who told Irish to empty her heart from hatred because of what happened to her in the past of losing someone she loved and her life. When she starts discovering what is happening to her; it is more than what she expected because it is all connected to her dreams and to her visions. The voices that she hears and the things that she sees are all connected to her. Find out how it happened and how Irish became a living dead. Here in MORTEM from one of the best story-teller; I.B.LOYOLA

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."