Death Is Just The Beginning Mga Nobela at Kwento

On the day of my mother's funeral, I sat outside the chapel, crying so hard I could barely stand. Three days earlier, my father had told me she'd died in a car accident. He said her body was so badly damaged that I shouldn't see it. I wouldn't be able to handle it. I believed him. I put on a black dress and sat beside her casket all night. Ten minutes before the cremation, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up for a hotel livestream. I opened it and froze. My mother was on the screen in an evening gown, smiling as my younger sister, Nina Whitmore, handed her a glass of champagne. My father sat beside her, his eyes red. "From now on, Nina doesn't have to live in Evelyn's shadow or suffer

'i laugh hysterically alongside tears. When to part, to meet again! become to meet no more! To one death is an ene, to another it is the beginning. Death calls upon many things when it visits! more prominent sorrows to loved ones, but to Keana? It beckoned more than just that. It was the beginning of the discovery of herself in full exposure. The awakening of her might within beside friends and foes.

It wasn't until he picked that recording pen up… With a slight push of the button, the sounds of him and Beth making love resounded in the room. In a split second, the confused look on Matthew's face was replaced by embarrassment. Lastly, he looked despairing when he heard the message I left for him at the end of the recording. "This is where it ends for us. This is goodbye for good, Alpha Matthew."

"You'll say anything, won't you? "And on top of that, Scarlett was busy working. You're trying to pin this on her? "Are you even human?" Seth chimed in as well. "Exactly. We don't even know if this person actually died or not, and yet he's pulling this stunt to scare everyone."

She dialed three times, then her finger hovered over the call button and never moved again. Before I died, I had tried to call her nine times. Even as my breathing stopped, I still foolishly hoped to say one last line to her. But even as I reached the end of my life, I never heard her voice. There was a vast and stark difference when someone loved or didn't love another person. I pressed a hand to where my heart was. It no longer beat, nor did it produce that tearing pain that once felt like it could rip me apart. Strangely, I felt a bit relieved.

He whispered my name, his voice carrying a terror and anguish I had never heard from him before. But the only answer was silence. I watched him bury his face in his hands, muffled sobs leaking through his fingers—like a lone wolf who had lost his entire world. Belated devotion is cheaper than dirt. I hovered before him and spoke softly, my voice calm and flat: "I've finally died, just as you wished. So why bother pretending you ever loved me?"

His forehead was covered in blood, which blended with the rain and smeared across his entire face. Eli stood apart from all of it. He didn't even cry as he watched the doors close. He just stood in the rain as he watched the whole cremation process. I floated in the air, taking it all in. I then looked at Eli—his face pale but still full of life—and at the space above his head. It was completely empty now. That damned countdown had vanished. I broke into a smile, thinking that it was truly wonderful. I was glad that Eli was still alive, as it meant that my death hadn't been completely in vain.

And she almost saved me from the luck that, in the end, fell on me and that despite everything, she has now brought me to this confession, when I finally look at the face of death. I assure you, true death is not only the end of life, it is the end of everything; I can talk about it now that I look at the voracious void. Nothing awaits us beyond the threshold of life, other than an eternity of infinite oblivion. It is strange, it is as if this world were a mere story where its author arcs names from a notebook to kill characters that are no longer necessary. ♦ ♦ ♦

I was unable to spare her—just like those other bodies I had before, I couldn’t do anything to protract their lives. Let’s put it this way, death—the thing practically all human beings dreaded, is imminent. Whether we liked it or not, we'll arrive at where life will reach its end, where living appears to be incomprehensible, for everything that started must come to an end, and that’s the reality. I’ve been into the past and to the future, and I perceived how people crazed over the idea of battling death and approach the point of immortality yet every one of them, fizzled.

The person that is not scared of death doesn't exist. Every human being is scared of death in their own way. Death is such a scary and mysterious concept that it sometimes creeps me out. What happens to us after we die? This is a question that will never get an answer anytime soon. They say dying for the people you love makes you not fear death, but seeing your loved ones die is a different kind of feeling. It's like a part of your soul was cut off and you are never going to be the same.