FFF #40 Death—Not as We Know It

Its that time for Friday Flash again and I wanted to say thanks to Cormac Brown for hosting such an awesome site. I must say that I started this week out with a great idea in mind, but as it came time to finish it I almost feel disappointed with it. Anyway, I couldn't let it go to waste so tell me what your thoughts are...

Death—Not as We Know It

I heard footsteps on the wet sidewalk and the sound of keys. I didn’t move, instead I continued to lay face down on the concrete. Rain had soaked through my clothes but I didn’t care. I didn’t have reason to care anymore – about anything.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle and then to a light sprinkle, a complete change from the roaring downpour it had been when I walked out of my dark office into the storm.

I had waited until everyone had left before leaving the empty office. Not wanting to go home or do anything else for I was completely devoid of life, I laid down on the sidewalk in the rain.

My job, the only thing left in this world to live for was gone, squandered away to ruins and it finally came down to the owner’s decision to pull the plug. My five years of hard work was flushed down the toilet—and all with the sound of a cash register and a poor financial advisor.

My dreams shattered when I was handed my last check and told to ‘cash it immediately otherwise it won’t clear’ and I knew he couldn’t stand to have the guilt of not paying me on his hands.

Childless and divorced there was not one to go home to except Captain Morgan and a bottle of Coke. For hours I laid there, the rain pelting me until my exposed skin felt raw. Now, my thoughts of emptiness were being interrupted, interrupted by a stranger whose shoes were slapping water with each step nearer. The sound of jiggling keys reminded me that I had not driven my car today, I had instead opted to ‘go green’ by taking the subway from my home nearly an hour away.

The footsteps abruptly stopped by my face, but I refused to move, to look up, it was an effort I didn’t feel capable of making.

I felt a shoe nudge my shoulder; a minute passed then another nudge.

“Ma’am?” A man’s voice questioned, “Oh God, I hope she’s not dead!” I could hear him whimpering.

He knelt down beside me and his hand reached out, shaking me this time. “Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need help?”

I tried for my voice but no sound came forth, it was like a bad dream where you lose your voice the moment you need it. I felt his hand touch my neck looking for a pulse then quickly pull it away. I heard him dial 911 on his cell and tried again to talk or move but to no avail. I started to panic, what was wrong? There was no way the rain could have taken my strength, was I dreaming?

The man who had so rudely interrupted my non-thinking status stood and walked a short distance away. Sirens filled the void that moments ago had only been filed by rain drops splattering the ground along with rushing water just below the curbs edge.

I tried again to speak to the people whose hands were turning me over. I heard one say my name after finding my ID in my purse. I tried to look at them but could only look where my eyes were frozen at, and at the moment it was toward a star filled sky.

A zipping noise interrupted their quiet chatter that I had been straining to hear and when the zipper was zooming above my face I realized what they were doing. They were putting me in a body bag! But I wasn’t dead! Why couldn’t I move my hands, my legs, any part of me?

This is Crazy! I shouted in my head while being loaded into the ambulance, What the hell is going on?!

I felt the ambulance slow to a stop then felt my gurney being pulled out. Wheels on the ground told me that we had gone from the parking lot onto a sidewalk and the whoosh of doors told me we were inside a building.

“Hey Doc.”

“What’s This?” A new voice, older, male.

“More work.” a woman replied sarcastically. “Female, thirty-seven, ID named her as Samantha Kramer. Family is being located, no sign of blood at the scene.”

“Put her over there until the family can come.”

Two ‘yes sirs’ could be heard and I felt them set me down. Their footsteps echoed as I was left alone.

The zipping of the bag took me by surprise. An older man stood above me, sadness in his eyes. “What a shame.” I felt horribly defiled as his deft hands undressed me and he placed a metal tag on my big right toe.

Fear washed over me again as he put me into a sliding table and covered me with a blue sheet. I felt myself being slid into the freezer and cried silently as the door snapped into place.

Oh God! Why can’t they see that I’m not dead? Why can’t they see? I prayed; hours and hours of prayer, just hoping that once they opened my door they would see that I wasn’t dead.

My thoughts had settled on Heaven and Hell, was this my own personal Hell? Scripture had read that Heaven would be on earth at some point, maybe this was heaven? Still none of it explained why I could no longer move. My thoughts were rudely interrupted again by the sound of the hatch being opened and my table being pulled out.

The sheet was pulled off of my head and my sister was revealed before me. I saw her shudder and tried again to move, to talk, anything, I’M NOT DEAD! HELP! But again, nothing came forth.

She and the doctor spoke for quite a while before I could hear her heels tapping away as she left.

“Well, let’s get down to business then, shall we?” The doctor was speaking to me and I could hear him gathering up his supplies. The first cut of the autopsy was cold. The sharp blade didn’t hurt me, I could just feel my skin coming loose where the blade was sliding slickly across.

Sometimes the doctor spoke to me, sometimes he didn’t, and he had been quiet for a while.

“Ah yes, here it is, you died of a brain aneurism. Too much stress most likely. Let me get you stitched back up and we’ll move you next door where Tommy will fill you with fluid.”

I tried to dart my eyes back and forth, to let him know that I wasn’t dead, but the more I fought it, the more it sank in, I had to be dead, there was just no other explanation. But shouldn’t there be like a white tunnel or something for me? The angel of death? Heaven or Hell? Where were these things?

The embalming process was interesting. Being hooked up to the many tubes and feeling the cold sucking motion at one end and the forced flow at the other. I felt like I was in an odd game of tug-a-war, one side wanted me while the other side was trying to get rid of me.

I was now trying to take in everything, wondering who was now taking care of my dog, what my boss must be thinking knowing that I didn’t cash that last check and then was found dead on the sidewalk just outside our office building. What must everyone be thinking?

I felt horrible at the funeral, so many people looking sad, looking desperate, or just plain angry at my death. Some people touched me and I wished I could have cringed away from it—their hands so warm that it almost felt as if they were burning me. Finally the time had come and my casket was closed. I was carted away where all I could hear were muffled voices and nothing discernable.

At last I felt myself being lowered and panic again set in, they were were burying me, I knew they would, but I wasn’t ready! I wasn’t ready to be buried alive. Oh God, if there is one, please please, don’t make me sit here in the unknown!

This must be my hell, to sit in eternal darkness and contemplate the unknown. I remember all that I’ve done wrong, and spend my time praying for repentance. Maybe after enough time or prayers I’ll be allowed into Heaven, but I can’t say for sure, I can only say that I know of darkness beyond measure where your soul and mind are still intact with a decaying body and that Death is not as we know it.