No Estoy Muerto Novels & Stories

I hold her palm to my heart, to prove my point. (Are you like the living dead?) I laugh at this. "I believe that you vatch too many movies. And they are novhere near the truth. I am very much alive." One of the little ones comes forth. And rubs my arm curiously. "You're cold." I reply calmly. "Yes, I am cold-blooded. But I am alive."

He yelled. I didn’t. She’s alive by some miracle but there’s no telling how long she’ll be in that state. Unmoving.

she exclaimed, tears streaming down her face. "Wait, Mother," I said, still perplexed. "I'm not dead." I asked hesitantly. Then, a thought crossed my mind, and I blurted out, "Oh my God!, please don't tell me we both died." Because that would really be a bummer. She laughed and hugged me again. "Neither of us died, Sophie. You just fainted," she explained, her voice choked with emotion.

These questions flood into my mind like a broken dam with lots of water. “No! No, no, no!” I yell as I reel in denial. “I can’t be dead! Not like this.” My face scrunches up as tears threaten to spill. I have barely lived and now I’m dead, a ghost apparently, lost in a forest somewhere in the world.

he said and that was when I did something that if it doesn't work then I'll be dead in a second. Follow me on i*******m for updates @pere_theheartbroken_poet

There's so much I haven't done yet. There's so much I haven't felt yet. A stream of hot tears flow down my cheeks. "I really don't want to die, especially not here. And not like this." I choke on the lucrid smell of my burning flesh, as I watch my legs disappear alongside a part of my abdomen. "Anybody out there, I don't want to die... please..." I beg whatever god would lend an ear to my broken pleas. “Me…lin…da. I’m…so.. sorry…”

Alive. Wanted. Mine. Later, we collapsed in the tangled mess of sheets, sweat, and shuddering breath. I was curled between them—Nico tracing lazy patterns on my thigh, Matteo smoking on the edge of the bed, Luca watching the window, always. But he looked back at me then. “You’re not dying,” he said simply. I met his eyes. “You’re right. I’m not done living.”

It felt just like—death. Meanwhile, my family waited anxiously. Seeing the doctor return, they quickly donned their helmets without hesitation. Somewhere beyond my dying breaths, the machine's cold melody wrenched the last light of my mind back into memories.

My eyes widened as I patted my own face and the rest of my body. I'm still alive, aren't I? I can't die yet. thoughts in my mind. My tears started to flow, "I'm still alive, aren't I? You can still hear me and see me, right?" I asked him. "No, you're not alive Lee." "No, you're not alive Lee." I heard him answer so I cried even more. "What!? It's not possible! I can't die yet! What the hell are you talking about?! Take back what you said! If I'm dead, then why are you still seeing me?!" I moaned while crying.

The only thing left in my body is my spirit, because I'm not dead yet. “3” “Dora!” Lazarus’s voice echoes in my head. “One has to die.” “Rig-ht…” I repeat weakly. “One - has - to - die…” “And that's not fucking me!”