The Death Birthday
1.9k Views · Ongoing · Daisy Swift
I died on my 28th birthday.
My family was throwing a birthday party for my sister Stella—yes, we share the same birthday, but in this house, only hers was worth celebrating.
My corpse was slowly rotting in the storage room while laughter and birthday songs echoed from the living room. They thought I was just "throwing another tantrum," completely unaware of the torment I had endured before dying.
The irony was crushing: I had spent five years ghostwriting musical compositions for her, making her the "genius composer" everyone adored. Meanwhile, I—the real creator—was dismissed as nothing more than a jealous older sister.
By the time they finally discovered my body, guided by the stench of decay, it was far too late.
But death was only the beginning of my revenge.
Every single person who had hurt me would pay the price.
Including those I loved most.
My family was throwing a birthday party for my sister Stella—yes, we share the same birthday, but in this house, only hers was worth celebrating.
My corpse was slowly rotting in the storage room while laughter and birthday songs echoed from the living room. They thought I was just "throwing another tantrum," completely unaware of the torment I had endured before dying.
The irony was crushing: I had spent five years ghostwriting musical compositions for her, making her the "genius composer" everyone adored. Meanwhile, I—the real creator—was dismissed as nothing more than a jealous older sister.
By the time they finally discovered my body, guided by the stench of decay, it was far too late.
But death was only the beginning of my revenge.
Every single person who had hurt me would pay the price.
Including those I loved most.











































