100 Ways to Die

HappyNisa

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#41
Hadriel said:
Wow, those are interesting. I've already planned suicide, but I haven't written it yet. And "car accident" was in #3.


Eheh Glad you find them interesting ^^" I'd like to see you write some of those :3 and eheh eyeah sorry >.< eheh the outstanding part of #3 was for me the fact that she saved someone else and then died, not the caraccident self you see >.< I was lik thinking when you drive the car yourself and ride against atree or something coz you tried to miss something in the middle of the road?? Or simply coz you're drunk while driving and ride too fast and then at the last mionute you didnt see that the road went to the left or so and you ride straightforward into a tree or you step on the breaks and fly trhough the front of the car coz you weren't wearing any seatthingies belts? uhh you know like that.. so not being ran over but driving making a mistake or whatever and then die. YOu know that it is your own stupid fault that you die
 

-lexus-

Visions of Hell
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#42
Do death by crashing plane. From the eyes of the passenger of a large commercial aircraft. I think you can do something good with that.



Also, these stories are really good. Keep up the good work!
 

Rah

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#43
-lexus- said:
Do death by crashing plane. From the eyes of the passenger of a large commercial aircraft. I think you can do something good with that.



Also, these stories are really good. Keep up the good work!


/signed



Do it!





Also, what about stranded in the middle of the sea? Or killed by a shark? That would be interesting.



O___O
 
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#44
#[9]

Death is a cessation of existence.

His eyes opened wide. He felt something unknown course through his body, engulfing him from the inside. He looked down at the cup of wine in his hand, its rim resting on his bottom lip. It smelt of bitter almonds. Cyanide. He had heard about the toxic chemical before. During the Holocaust, the Nazis had used hydrogen cyanide to poison their enemies in gas chambers. It quickly drained a person of his energy, leading to the heart and brain shutting down - death.

He felt giddy. He reached out his hand towards the wall on his left, trying to use it for support, but it slipped and he crumpled onto the floor, his legs suddenly devoid of energy. He could feel a strange wave of warmth going through his body. It was probably the poison, flowing through his veins, rendering his vital organs unable to use oxygen, shutting them down. The warmth spread, increasing in efficacy, until it seemed to concentrate in his chest. His pulse quickened, as he felt an odd discomfort begin to grow in his chest. Clasping it, he tried to calm down, breathing slowly, but he realized he couldn't. He kept breathing faster and faster. His heart and lungs screamed for oxygen, and he panted frantically. The discomfort seemed to manifest in his head as well. His vision blurred, and a splitting headache made his head throb. His eyelids started to droop. For some reason, he couldn't keep them open. The poison was slowly draining him of his energy.

As his eyelids could stay open no longer, his head fell back onto the floor, and all he could see was darkness. It seemed to have a life of its own, pulsating, an oppressive energy threatening to devour him. He expected his life to flash before his eyes, yet there was nothing. No rapid flashbacks, no faces of those he loved, nothing. It was him, staring into the core of death itself. Its appearance was indescribable. It was ominous and alien, a figure and at the same time a concept he could not possibly comprehend. His physical body was gone, yet his consciousness remained intact, a mere ant before the overbearing manifestation of death. Where was the "heaven" or "hell" which people assumed lay beyond the boundaries of death and reality? Where was the pugatory? Where was the reincarnation?

Around him, he could sense the consciousness of a hundred others around him, in a sea of thousands, even millions, of souls. What were they doing there. He couldn't talk, much less move. There was no way he could interact with them, no way they could interact with him. They were together, yet so very alone. Would he stay here forever, loitering in the face of death for eternity? Would he be one of the millions of souls here, surrealistically frozen in time and space? He couldn't imagine an eternity being spent here.

Suddenly, he felt the presence of a soul beside him vanish. Slowly, he saw the souls being extinguished, one by one, like candles being blown out in the dark. What would happen when he himself was blown out? Would his consciousness cease to function forever? Would he be completely erased from existence? Slowly, the souls around him faded away, out of existence. The crowd began to diminish, getting fewer and fewer, until there was only him left. He felt the very fabric of reality wrapped around his being tear apart, and without warning, he was cast into the depths, the cascading waves of death and nonexistence.





(Note: Yes, I know that cyanide doesn't always smell like bitter almonds.)
 
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#45
Also, here's some interesting news:

I'm looking for guest writers who can write an entry or two for 100 Ways To Die. Just write about someone dying. Any sort of death will do. It doesn't have to be long, perhaps about 400 words, or longer if you want to include more deaths, or if you just want to describe it more. If you want to help, just send me a PM with your writing, and I'll include it here (I'll credit you as well!)
 

Lily

Dead is the new alive.
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#50
I reallly enjoyed this entry <33 Mostly because you went further than just the moment of 'death'. You have given us an interpretation of the chara's'... afterlife. Or rather lack thereof~
I dont have much to say .____.
Tis part is my fave:


It seemed to have a life of its own, pulsating, an oppressive energy threatening to devour him. He expected his life to flash before his eyes, yet there was nothing. No rapid flashbacks, no faces of those he loved, nothing. It was him, staring into the core of death itself. Its appearance was indescribable. It was ominous and alien, a figure and at the same time a concept he could not possibly comprehend.

Ohhh that's interesting! : 3 to see a variety in writers and their 'death entries' : D
 
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#51
#[10]




Death is insignificance.
Guest-written by [MENTION=50]Crestham[/MENTION]


The man in the chair didn't look up when he heard the knock on his door. A pale light shone above him, shrouding his face under the fedora he always wore. On all sides of the room stood many men at attention. They had all dedicated their lives to be in his service. He leaned backwards into the office chair. On the table in front of him lay a few documents, a rack for holding pens, and a knife. He wrapped his icy hand around the green grip of the knife and signalled for his men to let the visitor in.

The visitor crawled into the room slowly, with a feeling of trepidation. He stood in front of the table. Soon, he was motioned to speak.

"Sir, the police have obtained information about our activities." he revealed lamely.

The man in the chair didn't seem to have any reaction. The visitor was surprised by his lack of reaction, before the man started to speak.

"So you're saying that the police has gotten wind of our activities."

The visitor nodded.

"That's all very well and fine, but that... Is old news. Really old. About..." The man made a motion, as if checking his watch. "Two hours old."

As if on cue, two of the men who stood by the walls stepped forward to secure the visitor in place. He could no longer escape now.

"Do you have ANYTHING else that may be useful?" the man looked up now, a calm fury could be seen in his eyes.

The visitor's voice trembled as he spoke. "The se-second fac-factory got b-busted?" his voice sounded hopeful.

A single thud echoed throughout the room. The knife that had been in the man's hand had landed up in the center of the visitor's eyes. The man stood up and took his coat from one of his lackeys, and slipped it on. He stood up, slowly made his way over to the dead visitor and knelt beside him. His right hand cradled the hilt of the knife. In one swift motion, he pulled the knife out of the dead man, whose eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. The man wiped his knife on a white handkerchief, staining it crimson red.

"It's time to leave. Let's get out of here before those darned lawkeepers get here."