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English
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Death Stories
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Published:
2025-06-30
Updated:
2025-07-16
Words:
19,407
Chapters:
9/15
Comments:
2
Kudos:
3
Hits:
35

GRIM

Summary:

When İlayda ("ill"-"eye"-"da") Lane finds herself confused and disoriented on a frozen battlefield, suddenly suffering from dissociative amnesia, she seeks refuge in a family morgue mysteriously hidden deep within the forest. Upon entering the gothic mansion, she meets—and eventually befriends—the young mortician Greyson, who lives on the estate with his three aunts. He vows to help her recover her broken memories, but under one condition: she must not leave his estate. Beyond the fiercely protected barrier surrounding his home, war rages across the world, and he refuses to let his unexpected guest fall victim to its evils. İlayda's calculated agreement to his terms sparks a game of cat and mouse between the clever, relentlessly determined woman and the dark, enigmatic mortician. Little does İlayda Lane know that the answers she seeks may ultimately lead to her downfall.

Notes:

“Fear is the mind-killer,” Frank Herbert wrote in Dune.

He was right. I have, unusually, experienced many encounters with Death—encounters that I will share through the eyes of the FMC in this story. For several years of my earlier life, I was dying of an undiagnosed, or misognistly overlooked, disease. So I feel I can say with absolute certainty: Death itself is not something to fear, but Fear lends itself to Death.

On the night of the Apalachee High School shooting in September 2024, I, a teacher and mother myself, went to sleep with wet cheeks and salty lips. That night, the dream I had was so real, so tangible, that I jolted upright, screaming when it ended. I had to write it down, and in doing so, I realized the story was a personification of my Fear's journey with Death.

As I watched the cold darkness I carry bleed onto the page, I leaned into it. I wove personal experiences and memories from my life into the life of this story’s FMC, İlayda Lane. From that decision, the story began to unfold.

It makes sense, I suppose, that my most traumatic memories, my dreamscape, and my fears fused into one narrative. It’s all in my head, after all. But I don’t see this as a self-indulgent portrait of personal darkness. I see this story as a mirror. Yes, I looked into the mirror first. I’m the one who wrote down what I saw. But I hope this story becomes a mirror for you too—an invitation to examine your own relationship with Death.

This story reminds us that Death comes for us all. And Death—while a selfish bastard—is also mercifully loyal. He is not a sadistic, sociopathic murderer. No, those are people. Death simply releases us from further suffering. Ironically, though, one of life’s most excruciating instruments of suffering is Death itself. A paradox: unpredictable, yet faithful.

You will die.

Did you know that? Have you thought about it lately?

It’s not a big deal, though. A big deal is something that makes you exceptional. Death makes you ordinary.

So, take a long look into this dreamscape mirror and consider your life with Death at your side. Don’t let your preconceptions deceive you. Why fear something as natural and expected as air? Separate your fears from Death, because the only thing fear can truly kill is the mind—and that is a fate more cruel than Death.

Chapter 1: PROLOGUE

Chapter Text

 

Her senses drown beneath a black, frozen lake. 

She lies suspended on her back deep within the icy waters, arms floating lazily out like a comfortable crucifix. 

No light penetrates this depth. 

No glint of day breaks the surface.

No sound of gurgles or bubbles 

wakes her sleeping mind. 

No. 

She is shrouded in icy darkness.

 

Her chocolate-brown hair floats around her like an old, blood-soaked gown, and her skin glows pale green in the inky water. 

Something deep within her searches for answers 

despite the mind-numbing cold. 

 

How long has she been floating? 

Or falling? 

It’s impossible to tell 

without any light to guide her. 

Yet, 

she doesn’t ask herself the question, "How do I get out?"

 

She’s curious for a moment, but 

she really doesn’t care. 

Something about the thick silence suffocates her anxious thoughts, 

and it feels 

almost… 

peaceful. 

Floating. 

Drifting. 

Evanescing.

 

There’s a sudden shift in time, and 

she feels gravity gently tug her down,

down,

down–

deeper into the frigid, dense water. 

 

She doesn’t panic. 

She embraces the pressure like a swaddled newborn 

as she descends closer 

to the soft sludge 

of the earth 

that she 

is meant 

to 

coalesce 

with. 

 

The thought of finality increases her contentment 

with each 

downward 

plunge.

 

And that’s when the softest aroma of lavender lances through her beautifully numbed mind, dismantling her peaceful departure.

 

Unexplainable 

fear overwhelms her. 

Her eyes snap open toward the surface. 

 

What was 

once solid blackness 

is now ripples of ghostly grey light. 

 

It swirls softly in the sky, gently brushing 

aside the darkness to let itself in. A sudden pull from within abruptly yanks her upward. 

 

This Unknown’s aggressive tug nearly snaps her cold, paralyzed body in two. Her head snaps back in the water,

mouth gaping open in pain. In a moment, she has gone from feeling nothing at all to everything at once as frigid water

rushes into her lungs and surges past her in a furious wave of tiny bubbles that cloud her vision. She’s gasping--convulsing--furiously--panicking!

 

She blinks.

 

Cold eyelashes brush against unexpectedly dry cheeks, 

triggering an awareness in her that has not existed before… 

 

Before what? She does not know. 

There is no way to know how long she has lain suspended on her back in the darkness.

Like a babe born from her mother’s womb, there is only then, and now.

Now, 

        she sees the smallest of movements and a gentle light. 

She is not alone. 

        Something is out there, beyond the frozen lake in her mind, and it’s watching her confront the darkness.