Novelas y relatos de No Estoy Muerto

He said, way too exhausted, "Why didn't you?" I shook my head with a small smile, "I told you, I don't run away." "Then why you're not fighting me back?" I shook it again, "I would never fight you." His throat bobbed, "Then you will die." I sighed, "I am not scared of death," I took a few steps forward, "Believe me, this life hurts hell a lot more."

Even stretching is hard. I lay there for a while before realization hit me like a bus. Well, a bus has not hit me, and I never want to experience it, but ya’ll get my point. I’M ALIVE!! HAH! I’m too pretty to be gone in this world. I don’t know whether I should be happy because I really thought that I was going to die. I don’t even know what to do now. I don’t have afterlife plans. Wait, so if I died in that world, then… AM I BACK?!

Am I dead? I stumbled and fell on my two hands resulting in injuring them. I was flabbergasted by the awkwardness of the situation. I didn’t feel like a dying person or a dead one. I was injured by a simple fall; that means that I am still alive. Right now, I cannot leave without my body. I pivoted on a whim and spotted a ghost floating in front of me. « Do I seem like I am presenting a show? If you don’t look around I’ll get your eyes out and cook them then I’ll feed the infected with them, » I said.

It was very scary! The red timer on the television was still ticking. Seeing the remaining 30 seconds fly by, Jack’s cold and hoarse voice sounded like the countdown of death. “Twenty-nine.” “Twenty-eight.” … “Ahhh! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!” Watching Adalind let out a miserable cry, the live broadcast room was boiling. “You still don’t want to die? Did those homeless people want to die? !” “This b*tch, hurry up and die!”

I'm too young to die. 'You don't need a living room and chair to die, woman.' (IS) commented. No no. I don't wanna die yet..it's been six months since I came here. I don't want to die in a foreign country. Who knows if they would transport my body to my family or not. Nooo, it can't be...

I know that magic is just an illusion, a trick. Dusting my clothes, I made my way toward my team. They had now assembled themselves in one place, their eyes still holding surprise, and I could guess that they were waiting for me to explain. The crowds were as silent as a graveyard. They weren't making any of their stupid noises, and I am sure they were still trying to recover from the shock of seeing me again. That made me remember a story in the Bible that our Sunday school teacher told us about. It was the story of a man named Lazarus who was resurrected from the dead. The only difference between us is that I have been dead for two months, or should I say suffering and wandering around an

The volume was low, but the images flashing on the screen were impossible to ignore. My picture appeared. I froze, my heart pounding. “What the hell?” I whispered, staring at the screen. The newscaster spoke in rapid Spanish, but I caught enough words to understand. My dead and decapitated body had been found—and buried. “What?” I gasped, my voice rising. “I’m not dead!” I tried to push myself up, but pain shot through my body, forcing me back down. I glared at Dos Santos, my emotions teetering between confusion and rage. “What the hell is going on?”

“Between what, Grandma?” She reached out and cupped my face. “Between life and death.” The words hit me like a blow. “No,” I said quickly. “No, that’s not possible. I was in the hospital. I was—” “You were dying,” she said gently. My knees weakened. “So I’m… I’m dead?” “Not yet.” I stared at her, my heart racing. “Then what am I?” “You have a foot in and a foot out at the same time.”

Not to mention the fact that I never sleep. I sat on the floor, taking a sip from my water bottle. "She's not dead" Dante announced as he strutted in with an unimpressed look on his face. "What?" I questioned confused, already worked up from my workout session. "Sofia, she's not dead, if anything she's very much alive" Dante grumbled before he handed me some pictures.

“passed away” I force my face to arrange itself into what hopefully passes for a grateful smile. “Thank you.” Back at my desk, I pull out a sheet of paper and try to write a list of good things in my life. One: I have a roof over my head. Sure, for now I do. Two: I’m not dead. But the only person I had in the whole world is. Sighing, I give up and crumple the paper into a ball. Students are turning in their tests and starting conversations. Evidently every test day is followed by some free time.