If you find this, read it.
My name is Daniel Keats. I was shot on December 31, 2003. It nearly split me in two. I have no clue who shot me or why, but it ripped through my apartment window faster than anything I'd ever seen in my entirety. I sprawled on the floor in immense pain. I fell victim to the darkness in seconds. I thought it was my foe, but I was wrong. It was my friend. It lasted a few seconds, but then it sort of evaporated from my eyelids. I was left in a place of dreams. Splashes of pastel colors adorned the landscape. There were ordinary trees whose shapes I recognized, only they were dressed in incredible blues, yellows and pinks. I looked at the sky. It was a rich blue. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen, or ever will see. Where was I? Is this what China was really like? Somehow I doubted it. I die and wake up in China? No. I wasn't even on Earth anymore. Maybe heaven. Or something. I still don't have an answer to that question. Now I live off the land, scavenging fruits and hunting the strange animals that found refuge here. Sometimes I feel stupid, not even knowing where 'here' is, but a day's work and a few new tastes of food usually get me over it. On Earth, death is always seen as the end, but let me tell you, death is only the beginning.
