ManyWriters

On my birthday of 49, my brain tumor had another attack.
My vision has become blurry, and my brain can no longer think clearly.
I knew that I may not have many days left to live.
The medical staff worked hard to keep me stable, and they picked up my phone to contact my families.
When the nurse dialed the 10th call, I finally heard my wife's voice, which was full of anger: "Why are you so annoying? Why do you keep calling me? I'm going to fly to Florence with Tim - don't contact me unless there's an emergency."
Then my daughter's voice came over, sounding very cold: "Mom, if this man passes away, that would be great. The insurance money can be directly transferred to my account. I have always wanted a new motorcycle."
After hearing this, I have no resentment.
Strangely, I actually feel like the burden on me is disappearing.
Perhaps it's finally time to bid farewell to this unfortunate life.

A Wake-Up Call to Let Me Escape From the Garbage

The silhouette drew nearer, its ominous form growing more imposing with each step.


I could scarcely detect their movement. My body was too feeble to react, and my eyes felt unbearably heavy.


Suddenly, I heard a surprised cry from the unknown person.


It seemed they were being pulled away, their shouts becoming more distant until I heard a loud thud. The door slammed once more, shaking the walls.


My awareness was fading rapidly, the world around me dissolving into obscurity.


Just as my thoughts began to scatter due to oxygen deprivation, a faint buzz, reminiscent of electrical static, echoed in my mind.


"Host, what sort of predicament have you landed yourself in this time? If I hadn't returned, who would have managed your pain sensations?"


The voice was unsettlingly emotionless, but it sent a shock through me.


This wasn't a figment of my imagination.


Chapter 5