they both die at the end // newtmas

Newt

It was rare to be up and moving this late at night, but we decided it'd be a fun night to have some family time. My sister Sonya and I flung flour at each other as my father observed, laughter in his eyes. My mother smiled warmly as she kneaded cookie ingredients into a dough.

Nights like these never felt real. It was like sitting on a plane taking off in the dead of night, or listening to the sound of soft pattering rain at three in the morning. I felt nothing could go wrong.

How wrong I was.

I cupped my hand, pulling out a bit of flour and blowing it into my sister's face. I laughed as I ran away, the blonde girl taking a handful of her own and starting to pursue me. I heard the soft sound of my mother's sigh.

"I hope you two plan on cleaning up after yourselves," she yelled after us.

Sonya and I broke into a fit of giggles, flour slipping from her fingers and dotting the floor everywhere in the messy white spots. I made a sharp right turn into the living room and took her initial confusion as my chance to get ahead.

At first, I wondered why I heard Sonya's footsteps stop falling behind me. Then my heart dropped as I heard that all-too-familiar ringtone, the loud gong that sounded right before you tapped the green button. You then get told that - yay! - you might as well be fucking dead because you're going to be within the next twenty-four hours anyways. The only question was, whose phone was it coming from?

My mom pulled her phone off of the counter, and dad pulled his. They both looked up at the same time, eyes locking; you could tell the exact moment they realized the call was meant for neither of them. My mother's eyes immediately began to get red; as I've heard, the death of one's child takes quite a toll. I could only hope it wasn't my sister. Sonya shakily made her way over to the counter, her phone showing the wallpaper of her and her girlfriend Harriet that you wouldn't be seeing if she'd had an incoming call. So it was me, then.

My hands trembled as I picked up my phone, swiping right on the little green oval. I gently put the phone up to my ear. I didn't have a chance to say anything before a monotone voice began speaking from the other end.

"Hello, is this Newton Issacs?"

"Yes," my reply was quiet; I was surprised I even found it in me to speak.

"I'm sorry to inform you that your time of death will be within the next twenty-four hours. I am sure you're aware of all the resources out there that will assist you in having a good End Day. All we ask is that you log onto death-cast.com and fill out details for your funeral and what you'd like to do with your body when you pass."

"Uh-"

"I have many more calls to make. Live your last day to the fullest."

My ears were ringing so loud that I couldn't register the end tone after they hung up.

I felt somebody tackle me to the point I almost fell over. I stumbled to keep my balance so that my death wasn't get-head-split-open-by-distressed-sister. My hand reached her hair and I ran my fingers through it. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back so I could look at her, her eyes already red and face soaked in tears.

"Sonya, listen to me. It will be okay. You'll have Mom and Dad and Harriet and they'll have you."

My mom walked up beside me, her eyes teary as she pulled me into her. She mumbled a bunch of incoherent things as Sonya once again buried herself into me. My father came over as well, his face pale as he pulled us all into him.

We stood there for a good while before the sappiness became too much to handle.

"As much as I love you guys, I'm not standing here in this human encasement until I kick the bucket. Can we just watch a movie or something?"

However reluctant everyone may have been, my request was accepted (because you can't just say no to a dead guy), and the next thing I knew we were all sprawled out on the couch, Bo Burnham's "Content" starting my supposed-to-be uneventful evening.

Yet, things never work out the way you'd expect them to, do they?

I knew everyone else was knocked the fuck out when my mother's and sister's sniffling stopped and my father's loud ass snoring began.

Quickly and quietly, I eased myself up from the couch and walked to my bedroom as silently as possible. I found an old notebook that had been left untouched and collecting dust for ages. With more guilt than I ever thought I could feel, I scrawled out a messily-written last note.

I'm sorry. I don't want to die while you all helplessly watch. I hope you can find it in yourselves to forgive me.

I lightly kissed my sister's head. I placed the note on the coffee table where it'd be easy to find before hastily walking out of my apartment.

The air was cold, autumn leaves falling onto the concrete sidewalk.

I didn't plan on doing anything exciting. I was your typical very antisocial, very quiet, introverted dude. Parties weren't my scene, group outings weren't my scene, everything wasn't my scene. I preferred much more to curl up by our artificial fireplace with a book that had your typical old book smell with a warm cup of tea in my hand. That's actually where I found myself a few hours ago, waiting for my parents and sister to get back from whichever school thing she went to this time. I couldn't keep up with the overachiever, she did just about every extracurricular under the sun.

I found myself in front of the old bookstore I so often visited. I decided to go in one last time; if there was any place I'd like to spend my last moments in, it would be this. I walked through the store, waving at Frank, the owner, whom I learned so much about over the last few years.

"Whatcha looking for today, Newt?" The old man gave me a warm smile. I felt a wave of guilt for the few people I know; they're the ones who genuinely give a shit.

"I don't plan on buying anything today," I replied. There was no sense in taking a book from someone who would have the chance to finish it.

"Trying to save some money? You can have one on me, Newt, I know how much you love finding a new novel."

"That's super kind of you, but it's okay. I got the call today; no point building up my collection any longer."

As soon as I saw his face, I regretted telling him. He gave me a sad smile, and then I knew that, if I ran into anyone else I may know, they won't be finding out.

"I'm gonna miss you boy," he stated.

"Same for me, man."

I walked through the small shop, my fingers running along the spines of every book on that specific shelf. A beautiful copy of The Chronicles of Narnia caught my eye, and I pulled it off to observe it. This had been my favorite series as a child; I'd always wished that one day I'd go to pull out a sweater and I'd get whisked away into a world of talking beavers and moving trees.

Right as I was preparing to put it away, I saw the corner of a paper sticking out from the top. It was a cute little drawing of the silhouettes from the Last Friend app, the paper an obvious advertisement. I put it back in the book and put it away.

It got me thinking, though. It would be nice to not die alone. Maybe I could make some friends for once in my life, even if it happened within the last few hours of it.

Before I could change my mind, I opened the app store, clicking the download button on the Last Friend app.