The Countdown Of My Death Is Spamming My Status Window Novels & Stories

A message from an unknown number lit up. Just three chilling words. You are next :)

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Oh shit! I'm dead. So very dead.

Don't worry. Next will be updated on Thursday. Keep on liking and commenting . Till the next adios

It's bullshit. Of course it is. Solve dates and count days. I had a feeling that this was not going to work. Day of the Dead, going to the cemetery. What's the point of having a date marked on the calendar for me to mourn in the first place, when the grief came and went whenever it saw fit and was never announced in advance? But maybe it was too soon. Or maybe it was because the news fell on me from the library a few days ago.

To make him a co-conspirator instead of a victim. And at the bottom of the screen, a red counter is ticking. DEAD MAN'S SWITCH ACTIVATED TIMER: 46 HOURS 23 MINUTES IF NOT DEACTIVATED: FILES UPLOAD TO DESIGNATED MEDIA OUTLETS There’s a note. Gabriel's handwriting, scanned in.

A piercing alarm echoed through the ICU as my sign of life dropped to zero. The moment my life ended, the System inside Ethan’s mind began screaming frantically. System: [Warning! Warning! The Female Protagonist has died!] [World self-destruction protocol activated! The twenty-four-hour countdown to total annihilation has begun.]

But the silence stretched, turning into a thick, heavy sludge. A red light flashed on the screen. ALERT: STATUS DECEASED Nash froze. His hand hovered over the keyboard, suspended in mid-air. "What is this?" he whispered. "System error? A glitch?" The screen flickered, then stabilized. A banner scrolled across the green background. ALERT: STATUS DECEASED. ALPHA NASH CONFIRMED KIA IN ACTION. Then, a voice came over the speaker. It wasn't Marcus. It wasn't a pack member.

No mention of James. *Year 26:* Safety: 16 years. 0 deaths. *Year 27:* Final year. Countdown started on the wall in Legal. Every quarter, Legal sent the same memo: `NO CONTACT. NO EXCEPTIONS.` *The Last Day - 11:59pm* *Here:* Elma, Willa, Nathan on the roof. 34 plants dark. 10,000 people home. Elma: “Tomorrow he walks out.” Willa: “And we keep working.”

The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. My fingers hovered over the chat box, but in the end, I didn't reply. I glanced at the time. It was 6:40 pm. There were still 30 minutes before Marianne's fatal fall. As the traffic light ahead turned green, I made a decision. If the comments were warning me that I was about to be set up, then so be it. I would roll the dice.