1 Terminal

Death is very Interesting. Well, yeah I know it sucks, I mean I do live in a family of freaks who worship death. I, in my personal opinion, despise the concept of death, especially after what happened to me eleven days ago. To explain what happened eleven days ago, I have to explain what happened two weeks before that, first.

So it was a day, just like any other, with a clear blue sky and lush green grass, well actually I wish I could say that, but I would be lying. My freakish family and I live in a semi-eerie mansion, which, In my opinion, very ironically reflects the exact mood of my family.

My family is obsessive over death, and twenty-five days ago, I think, I was diagnosed with terminal stage four lung cancer. I was told I have a month to live. I mean you can see why I hate death. Well, it has been twenty-five days and I already died once.

Oh wait I forgot to tell you a major detail— My family specializes in Necromancy. I mean I died once from lung cancer and my family used their powers to bring me back. Let me ask you this now, would you be thankful for what they did or would you despise their actions? It isn't as nice as you think to die from lung cancer only to be ripped from the peacefulness of the void and still have lung cancer, just as fatal as before you died.

I am not sure, but a strong part of me knows that I am going to die in three days, and I want to die, so that is why I am currently running away. I want to make sure I am far away from my family when I die, so they cannot bring me back to life, because, although you might disagree, lung cancer sucks, especially when it is in a terminal state.

Honestly, I am currently lost, but I am glad that I am lost because that only makes it more difficult for my family to find me, I mean if they do find me it won't matter what stage of decomposition my body is in, they will bring me back to life, one way or another.

I mean, like hell, if I am going to die from cancer then let me fucking rest in peace. I, for one, do not want to live with cancer for all of eternity. I just hope my family dies before they chance upon my corpse, or else I would have run away for nothing.

I take a closer look at my surroundings but all the trees and other forestial flora are obscured by an immensely thick fog. Now you might ask me why a 12-year-old girl with no way of how to get home, is calm in an anonymously eerie forest, well my answer is that I grew up in of family of necrophiliac creeps, and also I am not calm, I just gave up, since I die in three days.

Ok bunch me up with the rest of my family, will you? Just because I want to die, does not mean I love death, I only want to die because I am not a fucking masochist, just a child with fucking cancer at the literal age of 12, growing up in a family of necrophiliac creeps that do not only worship death but also practice the dark arts relating to it, too.

You can't blame me for wanting to die, I mean death is a lot less painful than an eternity of incurable cancer. Ok, I understand that you are getting a little bored reading this, I mean you probably didn't pick up this book only to hear about my life story, although I already basically did sum the whole thing up. Let's get back on topic... whatever the original topic was.

Well, whatever, so I am walking through this forest and I die again, ok well to be honest I wish that is how simple it was, but actually, I hear a sinister, spectral howl come from the dark depths of the forest, pretty sure they are wolves, but still I am not willing to confirm that hypothesis, so I start running, well fuck cancer because I trip. Ok yeah, cancer has nothing to do with my lack of skill in the art of coordination and the fact that the fucking fog concealed a tree root from right under my nose, quite literally.

If you think having terminal stage four lung cancer sucks, then you got another thing coming because what hurts more than that is your drainage of hope as you lie on the ground awaiting death as wolves come to eat you— or maybe that was the broken tree branch that is near impaling my back, either way, it hurts like the fucking devil.

The distant, ghostly howl of the enclosing wolves grows louder, and the howls' gradual rise in volume indistinctly raises my trepidation of death. Yeah, big words. but seriously I don't need a clairvoyant to know I am going to die soon, and it won't be from fucking cancer. Yeah, it is pretty damn obvious that I am quite dead.

It isn't much of a surprise when the wolves emerge from the foggy depths in mere seconds. I mean they are fucking wolves, and this is a goddamn forest. I would run but I mean my body refuses to obey me, like shit, just let me die already. When I ran away literal torture is not what I signed up for.

You might not be able to guess what happens next but— yeah I am pretty sure you can guess because the wolves were pretty hungry. The wolves slowly started to come over to me and every inch they gain was a nail driven into my soon-to-be coffin. Then the wolves start to eat me, I mean not sure what other way I should put it, they just ate me.

Seriously, the shit hurt like fucking hell, now I would describe the pain to you, but well it is kinda hard to explain something without anything to compare it to. Like my flesh was ripped off my bones while I am still alive, and it hurt like hell. See? I described it in the manner of 'Flesh ripped off my bones', but do you even knows how that feels, cause I do, but you probably don't.

Ok, seriously the wolves seem to enjoy eating me because I am still alive, just fucking kill me already wolves. Well, I guess they can tell what I am thinking because next they take a bite into my neck and they rip my throat out, and darkness envelopes me into an immense void.