Death -Original Story-

I always thought it'd hurt when I die.
It doesn't.
I guess when you know death is approaching you have your adrenaline pumping and an overwhelming fear, you almost feel like a superhuman. A defenseless superhuman.
I have a vague memory of running, looking for a way to escape, knowing that it was behind me. Whatever it was. I just felt like I had to run. I had to leave.
I remember the sinking feeling of knowing whatever it was caught me. Like there was no reason to keep trying. My fear started fading, my heart beat slowing, everything slowing. I felt like I was falling, but there was no ground. It was just black. And as I got closer it got darker, a deeper darkness. I never felt myself hit the ground.
It was then I realized I was alone, except for the ringing in my ears. I didn't feel anything, not any pain.
That's all I remember. I lay still in the darkness, maybe my eyes are closed? I think I'm on my back now. I try lifting my hand in front of my face, I can't see it. It doesn't feel like I moved it, either.
I've been hearing low murmurs. Familiar voices, but I can't put a face to them. I can't think of anyone's face, or name for that matter.
I don't remember my life.
I remember running though, I will never forget the overwhelming fear of the unknown.
The voices are slowly approaching me, and they sound morbid. I try to call out to them, but I can't make any sound. It doesn't even feel like I tried. I don't even think I'm a physical being now.
I can hear what the voices are saying. I know they're talking about me. Maybe to me?
No, definitely not.
I listen to their conversation, trying to piece together what's happening here.
Apparently I died in my sleep.