After I Died Mga Nobela at Kwento

The ground rushed up to meet me, and I hit it with a sickening thud. For a moment, everything went black, and I thought that I was dead. But then I felt a sharp pain in my leg, and I knew that I was still alive. As I lay there, dazed and confused, I realized that something inside me had changed. I had seen the world from a new perspective, and I knew that I would never be the same again.

Somehow, he had managed to keep me securely in his arms during the fall so I wouldn't hit the ground. It was okay though, he didn't need to worry. I was just going to take a quick nap. ...Just a few minutes tops. "Aria...." And then the world went black. .... Everything was cold and dark around me... and weirdly familiar. Had I been here before? And with a startling realisation, I realised I was in the Abyss. I was... dead? Four days was all it had taken to get myself killed again. Would I be made to go back again like last time?

I'm facing now my death. 'G-gello. Meg.' My last word before I lost my conscious. —————————————————————————————————————————— Enjoy Reading! Thank You! God Bless! - ErnEst_odrE_5v -

I am going to die! I am going to die! I knew this was the end. That was the last thing I remembered before everything went black.

How disgusting! Christopher leapt from the top of a building, and by the time his body was found, his face was unrecognizable. In the afterlife, I stood at the edge of a bridge, watching as Christopher ran toward me. Without hesitation, I moved on before he could reach me, ignoring his cries and never looking back. Christopher, this was the first time you ran toward me. And it was the first time I refused to run to you. From now on, we would never meet again.

It wasn't an easy journey but I had arrived at my destination and I was glad that it was in my own time. Ginevra Rodriguez or might I say Aiella Advik had left this world. Perhaps to be with her lover or not. But our journey had come to an end. . . . One week later. A gasp. A grunt. A strained groan. My eyes squeezed tight, adjusting to the brightness of the sunrise. Was this the afterworld? Was I in the land of the dead? Why had the pain remained? An unrecognized voice elicited a groan. . .my voice.

"Come home, sweetheart. I'll make your favorite lemonade fried chicken." In my previous life, my grandmother, who'd spent her days quietly in the countryside, somehow found out my death. She mourned for a long time, fell ill, and her health never recovered. She passed away not long after. As soon as I got off the bus, she hurried over and took the luggage from my hands. "Come on," she said cheerfully. "Let's go home. The lemonade fried chicken is ready." The small house wasn't much to look at, but it held every piece of my childhood.

I curl up on the sand, knees drawn to my chest, and let the tears flow. How is this happening? Adis is dead. I’ve mourned him, buried him in my heart, and yet here I am, haunted by the echoes of his presence. I bury my face in my arms, the salty air mixing with the bitterness of my tears. I already lost my memory, now I know longer even know who I am supposed to be.

He most enjoyed the feeling of controlling me, after all. "Elijah, did you know? Five years ago... I was pregnant with your baby," I said calmly. "You're lying again." I laughed bitterly and spoke in a gentle tone I hadn't used in ages. "I knew you'd say that, so I prepared everything. I hope that after I die, you'll receive those things and still be able to live happily ever after with Abigail." At that moment, the system's voice rang in my head. "Fran, midnight has arrived. You just need to die in this world, and you can go back."

Laughing until our sides hurt. Waking up next to him every morning. A future. A life. A forever with him by my side. “How did it come to this?” I choked out, slamming a fist weakly against the floor. “How the hell am I alone in a supply closet—dying?! At twenty-fucking-five?!” My voice cracked into a scream. “I don’t want to die!” I curled in on myself. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t—”