Prologue

You know how people say, “I want to be immortal. I don't want to die?” Well, that's the worst thing you could wish for.

I've always been prone to nightmares. Even today as an adult. You might think that at the age of twenty-two, I should have overcome nightmares a long time ago. But, they still occur at older ages too. Whether it be small, like losing something, or be it big, like dying a gruesome death.

Lately I've been experiencing a lot more realistic, lucid nightmares. Nightmares so vivid it's as if I'm I'm hallucinating; as if I'm living them at that very moment. Though that's not the worst of it. There's more to my story I need to tell you.

I'm immortal.

I don't know how...or why this happened, but all I know is that this is the worst thing to experience in a lifetime. Or should I say lifetimes?

I'm not the kind of immortal that usually pop up into people’s minds. You know, the ones that live forever, can't die or feel pain, can't get hurt, and usually always come back to life? Yes, I do feel pain. I do die. I do get hurt...a lot in that matter and I'm pretty much living forever as of right now. I just come back to life with no memory of what previously happened.

Dying is not an exciting experience, I can tell you that. However, dying six times only to wake up to no memory of what happened will surely make you want to be at peace.

At age five, I had died due to a train accident. Being the stupid, reckless child I was, I ran next to the train tracks laughing; unaware that the train was passing by. The horn of the incoming bullet vehicle blasted. I heard the muffled screams of my parents to stop running on the edge and to come back to them. Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, the train zoomed through the train station about to head through the next tunnel but not after snatching my shirt in the process. My screams filled the entire station as frightened people stare in utter bewilderment. I desperately attempted to untangle myself from this predicament, but it was to no avail for I was still young and short. Screams echoed through the entire station until...Silence. Nothing. Nada. Not a single sound had emerged.

I had found out my head had been cleanly decapitated a few years later when I grew old enough to understand the situation, and of course after they found my body in the tunnel, mangled and crushed by the force of the train gliding on the tracks. I still question how my body repaired itself and how I put myself back together.

The next few times weren't as gruesome. They were pretty much just normal accidents. At age eight, I was riding my bike to a friend’s house for a get together down the street. Although my bike’s brake mysteriously was broken with no explanation as to how or why. The bike then steered off course, sending me flying off it, and tumbling down a steep hill. My spinal cord was fatally damage after rolling over my head multiple times. I died once I hit the ground at the end of the hill.

Ages fifteen and seventeen were me just being stupid. Both involving cars.

“Don't drive out by yourself yet, you're still learning.” My parents told me.

“Don't drink and drive,” they told me. And of course I didn't listen. I deeply regret it. I was still on my permit at that time which meant I didn't exactly have the authority to drive by myself yet. Having trouble with the car, it smashed into a tree sending my head through the windshield.

As for the drunk driving, it was a dare. The dare also included me to drive through a course they had set up at the party (I was invited to a party for an upperclassman who just graduated). Blurred, double vision. Mind not in order. Uneven breathing. CRASH! A metal pole came tumbling down onto the top of the car creating a nasty gash in my head. Crimson liquid oozed down my face as my limp body fell forward.

The fight I had at twenty-one is still a bit hazy. All I know is it ended up with a knife extruding from my throat.

Finally, currently at age twenty-two, I died a mere five minutes ago.

Somehow a bone had inserted itself into my left lung causing immense amounts of pain in my chest and difficulty breathing. At first the doctors thought this was just a minor chest problem; they gave me antibiotics and set me free. Although, when it got worse with the antibiotics, they apologized for the misdiagnosis and rushed me to surgery once they discovered the real situation.

From the looks of it, the surgeon performing the operation was most likely inexperienced. Maybe their first time performing an operation on an actual person? I don't know. Well, they forgot to anesthetize me. The scalpel pressed against my bare skin under the gown slowly creating an incision; getting deeper as it sliced me open. The pain didn't form until after they had opened the incision to view the lung. Did I mention they did it slowly? I tried holding back a scream by clenching the table. Unfortunately that didn't last long as my hand gave in and had started to squirm and move. Not the best idea. At that point, the surgeon was digging inside me through my intestines to find the bone. The blade and other surgical tools then caused me to flinch in pain; causing a disturbance in the procedure. My screams startled doctors while blood began to gush out a bit with the surgeon pulling the scalpel out of my lung. Others were frantically trying to keep me alive and desperately attempting to calm me. My breaths started to fade. Vision started to go blank.

The last thought on my mind was: Why did they have an inexperienced surgeon do a procedure as complicated as this?

Then, I was dead. Again...

Reviews

[A.R. Murray]

This is an interesting idea. I like how we get examples of how he died.

I do wonder the Manny finds out how he dies.

I enjoyed reading this and so far I love it.