The Dead Girl Diaries

A ghost with a diary. Typical or not? Well, there's just some things Noe can't let go - her life, her lovelife, and also writing in her diary. Which has been her greatest yet worst habit that ultimately lead to her death. But was it really the reason? Find out by reading Noe's life (and death and afterlife) and secrets in her most precious diary.


1. Post-death Era

Dear diary,

I attended my funeral yesterday which was kinda weird. I didn’t know I was that important to people that they actually went to my funeral too. People from school were there - my best friends Lilly and James, the cheerleaders, the jocks, the nerds and everybody else; even our school principal. My relatives also were there – my mom (who was by the way crying so hard that if I were still alive, I’d tell her to be quiet; she’s so embarrassing), my dad (who was comforting my mom but was weeping too, well at least quietly), my brother Rick, my aunts, my grandparents (who are sooo older than me but are still alive!!!), and lastly my neighbors though I only know one of them, Mrs. Montgomery who is an elderly and owns 5 cats and 2 dogs whom I help feed every day. Aw, now that I’m gone, who will help take care of Fufu, Lulu, Bubu and the rest of the gang? I hope my brother will help poor Mrs. Montgomery; she can hardly walk let alone take care of her pets alone! How dreadful.

So the service was short, only 3 people made their speech about me who was my mom, my dad and Lilly. You know if I can still cry, I probably have cried a river during Lilly’s speech.  Then they walked me to the cemetery and hoisted me down the ground then threw sunflowers above my coffin because sunflowers are my favorite flowers. I actually felt bad about how I wasn’t able to see my face in the coffin, you know, whether what dress they dressed me in and most importantly my make-up! Because technically that will be how I would look for eternity!!! Well at least before I decay and become part of the good, old, Earth.

I died three days ago from a very stupid car accident. And I’d rather not talk about it here in my beloved diary. When I died, I actually didn’t think that I was dead because after the car accident, I woke up on the pavement, lying on the cold, hard ground and there wasn’t any trace of blood or headache or bone ache or whatever-ache there shall be after you got hit by a delivery truck. And I was so happy then until I saw that ambulance and the dead body, with eyes wide open, beside me whom was me.

Darn that truck. Damn Kenny. Damn that stoplight. Damn the faded pedestrian walk. Damn me. Damn the world.

Wait, why was I chasing after Kenny again?





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