Death Wish
I don’t want to live anymore—but death keeps rejecting me. Every bullet stalls mid-air, every fall slows before impact, every flame parts around my skin like it’s afraid. The doctors say I’m broken. The government says I’m a weapon. The cult on the rooftops says I’m the Harbinger of End Times. Maybe they’re all right. But when the pain becomes too much, and I finally find a way to die… what happens if I succeed?I slit my wrists in the bathtub and watched the water turn black, not red. The cuts sealed before the blood could spill. Again.\n\nI screamed and smashed the mirror, glass slicing my face—but the wounds vanished as fast as they formed. My reflection stared back, unharmed, smiling with teeth too sharp.\n\nThat’s when the knock came. Three slow raps. Then a voice: 'We know what you are. And we know how much you want to stop.'\n\nI stood there, trembling, covered in phantom blood. They were offering what I’d been begging for. But something in their tone made me wonder—what if death isn’t the end they’re promising, but a beginning I can’t survive?
De7nzy
works: 41
Veins of the Cursed
Your decisions shape the fate of the Cursed Ones—those marked by ancient magic that burns through their veins. Bound to the cycle of pain and power, they walk between life and death, feared and hunted. You carry the curse too, and now, the others are calling.
Hell Paradise
I never thought eternity could feel so heavy. This isn’t the hell they warned me about—it’s worse. Or maybe it’s better, depending on who you ask. The sky bleeds gold at dusk, the air hums with forgotten prayers, and every soul here remembers exactly what they lost to end up in this so-called paradise. I was told there’d be punishment. Instead, there’s temptation. Endless, exquisite temptation. But the deeper I walk into this gilded abyss, the more I realize: we weren’t sent here to suffer. We were sent here to forget. And forgetting might be the cruelest punishment of all.
Whispers of the Death Forest
I shouldn’t have come back. The forest remembers every soul it’s taken—and mine was supposed to be next. Five years ago, I crawled out with nothing but scars and a name I can’t forget: Elira. They say she’s dead. But the dreams won’t stop. She’s calling me, not in words, but in blood. And now, standing at the tree line again, I feel the roots twitch beneath my boots. This place isn’t just alive. It’s waiting. For me. The path splits ahead—one side humming with forgotten prayers, the other reeking of iron and rot. If I turn back, I live. But if I go forward… I might finally learn what I did that night.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.