Dead Animals

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

Just because I forget to bring my mate's lover back—leaving her alone in the wilderness for three hours—he flies into a rage and throws me into an abandoned well in the desolate countryside. "You need to experience the torment that Belinda was put through." The well is deep and narrow, forcing me to curl up in my wolf form. I struggle to breathe. I plead for mercy and beg for forgiveness. However, all he does is tell me off icily. "Stay there and repent for your sins. You'll only understand the dignity required of a Luna once you learn your lesson from this." He orders his men to seal the well with a large boulder. I let out anguished howls and roars as I claw my way upward. However, I only fall back down over and over again. The walls of the well are covered in my claw marks. I continue like this until I can't make a sound through my parched throat. … Half a month later, my mate's heart softens when he sees the birthday gift I've prepared in advance for him. He decides to end my punishment. Unbeknownst to him, worms and snakes have already gnawed my body beyond recognition at the bottom of the well.

My father died in the line of duty during a confidential assignment and received the highest national honor. I retrieved his ashes and escorted him home for burial. As soon as I reached the entrance of the residential area, I collided with a woman. The urn fell to the ground and injured her dog. In the next second, her palm struck my face. “You lunatic, you killed my dog! Can you afford to pay with your worthless life? Hand over the urn while kneeling so my dog can rest in peace!” I stood there in shock. Her dog had run into me without a leash, yet she tried to blame me. “There are security cameras here. Call the police if there is no other way. The box holds my father’s ashes. Watch your mouth.” The woman laughed as if she had heard the biggest joke. “He is a nobody. My dog was flown in from France. Can you afford to compensate me? If you know what is good for you, hand over the urn. My hubby is Ethan Stanford, the heir to Stanford Group. Can you afford to offend me?” I froze. I had no idea my husband had another wife.

The day we were meant to be mated, my Alpha, Ford, was ambushed. Silver bullets shredded his car, sending it plunging off a bridge and into the river below. He was pronounced dead. Drowned. I was left pregnant with his heir, shattered by the raw agony of our severed mate bond. Then Ford's twin, Aiden, returned from abroad with his mate, Kyra. His identical face and a scent so similar to my mate's nearly drove me mad. A desperate part of me swore Ford was still alive. I told myself it was just grief. A widow's delusion. Until I overheard a hushed conversation and the horrifying truth slammed into me: the man pretending to be Aiden was Ford. He had faked his death. He'd let his own brother die in his place, all for Kyra—the other woman carrying his child. The grief that had crippled me instantly morphed into a cold, sharp rage. Ford didn't just break our bond; he shattered it. And I would make him pay. I wiped my tears and sent a single message to my brother, Billy, the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack. "Brother, I need a plane crash. He loves faking his death? Fine. Let him feel what it's like to truly lose a mate." Only when the news of my "death" spread did Ford reclaim his name. He knelt for seven days and nights in the ashes of the home we once shared, consumed by a grief of his own making.

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

I'm eight months pregnant when my Alpha mate abandons me at a hunting ground. He leaves to welcome his ex-girlfriend, who's returned from her travels. From that day on, I disappear without a trace. Initially, my mate doesn't take this to heart. He's even in the mood to make a bet with his subordinates. "She'll be back in three days at most!" Ten days later, he freezes my credit cards and sends me a threatening text. "You can starve to death out there if you still refuse to come back!" A hundred days later, he barges into my best friend's home and forces her to hand me over. "Where have you hidden her? I admit defeat, okay? I've had enough of this hide-and-seek game!" My best friend sneers as she throws photos of my body, which has been pierced through by countless blades, at him. "Wake up, you fool! Your Luna is dead, and you're the one who led a team to dig her body up from the trap! Have you forgotten?"