Male POV After Death Short Stories & Novels

A tsunami was coming. My wife was the captain of her ship, and she gave her true love the only chance at escaping, all to protect him. I begged her to save me first, or else I would die in this disaster. She told me impatiently, “Drop the act. Everyone knows you’re a first-rank seafarer. We’d be better off if selfish souls like you really do die!” She had forgotten one thing. I could no longer go into the sea. Not after I developed thalassophobia from saving her.

After I died of kidney failure, my parents finally found a justification to donate my heart to the adopted son they cherished most. Caspian. With my heart beating in his chest, Caspian stood on the track at the world sprint championship that should have been mine. My fiancee cheered for him from the stands, her voice filled with excitement, while my parents watched with tears of pride and relief in their eyes. No one remembered me anymore—their biological son, the one who had been better than him in every way. In that moment, I finally understood that everything I had given to this family had been nothing more than wishful thinking on my part. A lie I told myself because I had loved the wrong people too deeply. No matter what I did, there had only ever been one person in their eyes: Caspian. If I were given another chance, I would never again fight him for their biased, one-sided love.

To support my wife, Natalie Strickland, in her work, I stayed behind in our first-floor apartment during the hurricane, caring for our son, Tyler, as he burned with a high fever. But as the director of the neighborhood committee, Natalie gave our family's last remaining life buoy to her childhood friend, Hayden Walker, on the tenth floor. When I confronted her about how unfair it was, she snapped at me over the phone. "Emerson, you're my husband. You should put the bigger picture first. Our family has to set an example. "Hayden's situation is different. He's raising his daughter alone, and she has asthma. Both professionally and personally, they have to be our priority." Once again, I let her convince me with her talk about the greater good. Then the floodwaters swallowed the first floor. Holding my barely breathing son in my arms, I frantically called the emergency command center. The dispatcher apologized before delivering the news, "Sir, Director Strickland listed Mr. Hayden Walker and his daughter in the first evacuation group. You and your son were assigned to the final group." I looked down at my son as the last traces of breath faded from his tiny body. My heart filled with despair. "System, I accept your offer to leave this world with my son." 'Natalie, Tyler and I will never need you to save us again.'

In my third year overseas as a war correspondent, I get seriously injured during a grenade explosion and lose all my memories. I develop severe PTSD and spend two years in a psychiatric hospital. Two months ago, I finally remember who I am. On the day of my return, my best friend, Beckett Jobling, and my wife, Gina Spencer, come to the airport to pick me up. They cry even harder than I do. Gina's eyes are red, but her voice is still as gentle as ever. "I've tidied up our new home. You move in first. I'll come keep you company after work tonight." However, I go back to the villa where we used to live. The moment I push open the door, I see a wedding portrait hanging on the wall. The groom isn't me but my best friend, Beckett. The sound of the key turning in the lock comes from outside. Gina, who is supposedly busy at work, walks in hand in hand with Beckett. In her arms, she's holding a little child. In a sweet, childish voice, the child calls her, "Mommy." I stand frozen. I am so stunned that I even forget to breathe. I've only been away for two years. How can their child already be three years old?

On the first of every month, Dad calculated my allowance based on how well I followed his rules the month before. "You get 10 dollars for checking in with us every morning and evening, but you only did it for 10 days last month, so that's 100 dollars. "And since you missed the rest, you don't get the 200-dollar bonus. "With your regular allowance of 100, your total for this month comes to 200. "Send me a written explanation for every day you missed. I'll transfer the money once I'm satisfied with it." My voice shook. "Dad, I was studying for finals last month. I had to get to the library before sunrise just to find a seat. That's why I missed some of the calls." Tears stung my eyes. "A train ticket home for Christmas is 300 bucks. I need more than 200. Dad, please. Can't you just…" He cut me off. "I set up these rules for a reason, Logan. You need to learn that money isn't handed to you just because you ask for it. Why can't you see that I'm trying to teach you some responsibility?" Then he hung up. Just when I felt completely helpless, a thug approached me. He said he knew a way I could make some quick cash and told me to follow him.

The day my attending physician gave me the critical illness notice, my wife Jane Hesler secretly mortgaged the house to the bank without telling me. The money she borrowed was not for my medical treatment, but was transferred to her first love, Anthony Shane — all because he said he needed funds for his business. I called her. "The house is for our daughter. You can't touch it." Her voice on the other end of the line was full of anger. "If you'd been able to come up with the money, would I have had to mortgage the house? Anthony's business needs funding; what's wrong with me contributing some money as a partner? Let me tell you something. I can live a thriving life without you." After hanging up, the doctor asked me with a grave expression, "Are you sure you don't want further treatment?” I nodded, putting on a bitter smile. "Yes."

Ever since I was old enough to understand the world, I knew I was only a replacement for my dead brother. The day before I started elementary school, Mom and Dad took me to buy a backpack. Mom smiled and asked, “Blue or red? Which one do you want?” I picked blue. However, the moment I said it, her smile disappeared. She grabbed my shoulders so tightly that it hurt and screamed at me, “Why didn’t you choose red? Harry would only pick red!” Dad saw her lose control and slapped me across the face. My nose started bleeding. From that day on, whenever I chose something, I only dared to pick the color my brother would have liked. During recess, I was messing around with my classmates when some clay accidentally got stuck in my hair. The teacher kindly helped me cut it off. However, when Mom came to pick me up, she completely lost it. “Henry never had a buzz cut. You’re not my son!” She shoved me off the back of her electric scooter. I cried as I chased after her, running for half an hour before finally making it home. To keep from upsetting her again, I started copying my brother in everything. It was not until after the SATs that Mom demanded I give up my future and attend the community college near our house, even though I was the top scorer.

We have an old rule in our town. Any family with twins must choose one to make an example out of. That is the way to discipline one’s children and ensure they grow up well. Born four minutes before my brother, I became that example. When my brother snuck out to swim in the river, Mom didn’t scold him. Instead, she pressed my head into the river again and again. She finally stopped when my brother cried, yelling that he would never go to the river again. When my brother forgot to switch on the rice cooker, Mom came back home from work only to realize that the rice was still uncooked in the pot. She then served me two bowls of uncooked rice. “Finish them and don’t leave a single grain behind.” Chewing on the hard rice filled my mouth with blood. She stared at my brother throughout the entire ordeal. When he finally cried, she took the bowls away. I was made an example for 16 years. Until that day when our town received a red alert for an incoming hurricane. Everyone had to evacuate overnight. My brother only came back at dawn after playing a fool with his friends the entire night. He was completely drenched when he came back, smiling gleefully. Mom stuffed him into an evacuation vehicle before turning to look at me, saying very calmly, “Stay here. After the hurricane, your brother will learn his lesson and come home earlier.” Everyone in town left. Roof tiles started flying in the wind. Mom, you like to make an example out of me. This time, I'll die because of that. Are you happy now?

I had died for a year and was pushed to cross the River of Souls 99,999 times, but I could not do so as no one had given me a proper burial. The netherworld forced me to return to the mortal world for 48 hours to find someone to bury me, or my soul would vanish after 48 hours. They even started a livestream to make some income for themselves. On the first day of my return, my ex-girlfriend and the real heir of the family who hated me were about to get married. Netizens predicted that I would be malicious enough to crash the wedding for revenge, but all I did was sit in a small restaurant and order myself a delicious burger. While waiting for my food, the first sentence I said to the camera was, "I will vanish completely from this world after 48 hours."

To help her childhood sweetheart, David Middleton, take my place studying abroad, my wife, Sharon Griffin, destroys my records and deliberately fills in false information, ensuring that I'm permanently denied a visa. She even severely injured my hands before sending me to the Behavioral Reform Center. My mother-in-law, Paula Brown, who has always treated me with affection, takes Sharon's side. "Kyle is so ungrateful. We gave him everything, and he still wanted to get a PhD abroad to find his biological parents. Who's going to take care of me if he's gone?" Sharon snorts. "He's just vain. When he found out I'd turned down Westbridge's offer of admission, he gave me the silent treatment and threatened to divorce me. If I let him go abroad, he'd think he could do whatever he wanted. "As my husband, he has everything he could ever need, yet he still wants to take David's opportunities away from him. Maybe the Behavioral Reform Center can teach him to appreciate what he has." A semester later, Sharon goes to the airport to pick up David, who's returning from his studies abroad. For the first time in a long while, she asks her assistant, Adam Norris, "It's been so long. Has Kyle learned his lesson? Tell him he can come home for the winter break." She doesn't know that I've already died on the very first day she sent me to that reform center.

It's only a day after my death, and my wife, Abbie Johnson, is at a hotel with her first love, wearing a red dress. I once told her while I was drunk, "Next life around, I'll let you go. And I'll set myself free, too." Abbie just rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I can't wait. Hope that day comes sooner." Now she gets her wish. I'm gone. She walks right past my body without batting an eye. Yet the moment they slide me into the incinerator, she suddenly charges forward like she has lost her mind. "Can we please just stop fighting?"

As I was rummaging through the trash for leftovers, my wife, who had died three years ago, suddenly showed up. She stepped out of the Voyce and looked down at me from above. “Honey, you really did pass my test.” I was holding some moldy stale bread. I stared at her in bewilderment. It turned out that three years ago, at a class reunion, the school heartthrob she had once dated had suggested it. “I wanted to see if your love is real.”

As the only child born after Mom and Dad's remarriage, everyone says that I'm the most obedient and well-behaved one. I'm also the best role model for my older half-brother, Matt Hammond, and my older half-sister, Carrie Hammond. Matt is a troublemaker who loves getting into trouble. He once stole Mom's diamond necklace and sold it to buy skins for his online games. But as Mom is his stepmother, she finds disciplining him hard and therefore only lashes out at me when she catches me eating tortilla chips and gives me a good beating. "Were you the one who bought these chips? How dare you eat them without asking permission first? That's stealing! You're behaving like a thief!" Meanwhile, Carrie is naturally rebellious and dreams of being a pop star to go after her idol. Because of that, she refuses to go to school. But as Dad is her stepfather, he finds disciplining her hard as well. So, he lashes out at me instead by sending me off to the countryside for two months of "reformation" just because I missed a couple of points on the midterm exams. "Since you don't care about studying hard, then you might as well just work as a laborer in the countryside for the rest of your life!" Soon after, Matt and Carrie decide to run off before the SAT. Matt wants to go and meet his online girlfriend, Tracy Wilkins, and Carrie wants to attend a concert. As punishment, Mom and Dad tie me up tightly to the bed before locking the bedroom door from the outside. The more I struggle, the tighter the knots become. I stare at the locked door and say to myself, "If there ever is a next life, I don't want to be the 'good' kid anymore…"

On the final day of our graduation trip, an extreme heat wave struck without warning. I was unfortunate enough to suffer heat exhaustion, but my girlfriend, Claire Whitmore, gave all the electrolyte water to her male best friend, Alex Sterling. “You’re usually in good health, and you know first aid. Just drink some bottled water and take a break. “But Alex is different. He’s always been physically weak. If he doesn’t replenish his electrolytes, something could go wrong.” Too dizzy to argue, I had no choice but to ask the other members of our group for help. Instead, they rolled their eyes at me. “Daniel Hayes, there’s a limit to how jealous you can get.” “Claire is just taking extra care of someone who’s sick. You’re a grown man. Do you really have to act like you’re dying?” When the group continued ahead, Claire frowned at me sitting on the ground. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s mood right now? “Fine. Stay here and think about what you’ve done. When you realize your mistake, catch up with us yourself.” What she didn’t know was that I had already begun showing symptoms of heatstroke. And she certainly didn’t know that the moment she left, a system notification echoed inside my mind. [Host’s life is in critical danger. Would you like to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. “I accept.”

My adoptive mother's name is Esther Garcia. On New Year's Eve, she led five-year-old me out of the orphanage and named me Bowie Easton. "Bowie, your older brother is named Bruce Easton. Your birthday falls on January 1st, New Year's Day, which symbolizes a new beginning. So, make a wish every year on your birthday. Making a wish means a fresh start. It's full of hope," she said. I nodded vigorously, my teeth chattering from the cold. Back then, I didn't understand that every time I made a wish, Esther would take something from my body. At six, I wished to see fireworks. She took my bone marrow. At seven, I wished for a Transformer. She took one of my kidneys. At eight, I wished for cake. She removed a lobe of my liver. I'm ten years old now. Esther looks at me gently in the candlelight. "Bowie, make a wish," she says. In the flickering candlelight, I close my eyes. This year, I have only one wish. I hope I can make it through this year.

Dad is my homeroom teacher. He loves using me to assert his authority. He firmly believes that the more I suffer, the more the other students will fear him, which, in turn, gives him more authority. When I help my classmate pass an eraser to their friend, Dad slaps me in front of everyone until my face is swollen. When I sneak a bite of my friend's leftover chips after class is over, he drags me to the podium and pokes my lips with needles until I'm bleeding profusely. Later, the school's head of discipline, Mary Milner, catches a pair of students dating on school grounds. Dad insists that I'm one of the culprits. He doesn't even give me a chance to defend myself and drags me to the hallway and strips me of my clothes. He then heads to Mary's office and says with a smile, "My apologies, Ms. Milner. It's my fault for failing to raise Zack properly. Don't worry. I'll definitely teach him a lesson he won't forget this time!" Mary frowns and asks, "Zack Curtis? He's not involved in this dating incident." Dad is briefly stunned before he nonchalantly says, "It doesn't matter. I'll still punish him as a warning to the others. Besides, Zack always breaks the rules. He has already received countless punishments. What's one more?" However, Dad doesn't know that every time he punishes me, I secretly deduct a point from him in my heart. I've already deducted a total of 100 points. I make my way to the hallway on the sixth floor and jump out of the window without hesitation. I wonder if my death will be enough to assert Dad's authority.

I have pica. I have had a compulsion to eat hair for as long as I can remember. Whenever I feel strands of hair tugging inside my stomach, I feel strangely calm. I look at my thin wrists and the sharp outline of my ribs, and I feel proud. Sometimes Mom cries and asks why I became like this. Seeing her hurt because of me fills me with satisfaction. Dad runs himself ragged trying to get me appointments with specialists, his hair turning completely gray from the strain. And somehow, that makes me feel happy too. My therapist asks whether there is some knot inside me I can't untie. I shake my head and say that my parents have always favored and spoiled me. How could there be a knot? It isn't until Mom completely breaks down in the consultation room that the truth begins to surface. She drops to her knees in front of me, presses her forehead to the floor, and sobs. "Please forgive us. Please stop doing this to yourself, okay?"

When I was eight years old, my younger brother, Evan Gunn, extracted my artificial heart's battery to charge his phone. By the time my parents, Ethan Gunn and Andrea Alston, found out, I was already blue in the face and on the verge of death. Even after my life was saved, I was left with severe complications. From that day onward, Evan became all but invisible in our parents' eyes. They no longer smile at him or talk to him, instead focusing all their attention on me. Dad travels abroad to work, all so he can cover my heart's monthly maintenance costs. Mom quits her job to watch over me around the clock. She becomes a vegetarian in the hopes of trading her sacrifice for a longer life for me. I think to myself that even though I wasn't born healthy, I at least have parents who love me. At least, until the power suddenly goes out on the day that Evan is filling out his digital college application form. Seeing as the submission deadline is fast approaching, Mom doesn't hesitate to extract my heart battery and power the computer with it. As my heart pressure drops rapidly and my heart beeps in warning, I try to stop her. "Mom, you can't. My heart's going to—" Mom slaps me harshly with tears in her eyes and yells, "Evan has suffered for ten years because of this damn battery! There are backup batteries around the house! Must you insist on using this one? "You've already ruined his childhood! Are you now going to ruin his future as well? How could you be so cruel?" She snatches my battery away and locks me in my bedroom. Finally, Evan successfully submits his application. As their excited cheers ring out from the living room, I collapse heavily onto the floor. My heart's shrill alarm falls silent. I murmur, "Mom, now I'll never burden you again…"