In the Silence of Death

Chapter 1: Awakening Curiosity

The fluorescent lights in the vet hospital flickered faintly, giving the place a washed-out, sterile feel. Kate sat at her desk, half-heartedly scrolling through the appointments for the day. Routine. Predictable. Boring. She didn't hate her job, but it didn't spark any passion either. People called, pets came in, prescriptions were picked up, and she sat at the front desk through it all, nodding and smiling like she was supposed to.

Kate never minded being mid-everything. Mid-career, mid-looks, mid-life. She wasn't ugly, but she wasn't exactly turning heads either. And that was fine with her. It was easier that way—no expectations to live up to, no spotlight.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, shaking her out of her thoughts. Mrs. Fielder. Of course.

"Hey Kate, it's Pickles again. Got into the trash and I think he's eaten something that didn't sit right with him. I'll need to come in later," Mrs. Fielder's voice crackled over the line, that familiar tone of worry coated with a layer of routine.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Fielder," Kate replied, her voice level, already typing in the appointment details. "Same time as usual?"

Mrs. Fielder laughed. "You know it."

As the woman continued about Pickles' trash escapades, Kate's mind drifted, her fingers automatically punching in the needed details. She was thinking about the article she'd read last night. Some doctor in Germany had claimed to have weighed the soul—actually weighed it as it left the body.

Could a soul really have weight? she thought as she leaned back in her chair. Could you feel it leaving?

She sighed softly as Mrs. Fielder finally hung up, turning her attention to the stack of files next to her. The rest of the day dragged on much the same. Animals came and went, and as she handled the mundane tasks of the vet hospital, Kate's mind was always somewhere darker.

It was late by the time Kate finally left work. The sun was setting as she walked into her tiny one-bedroom apartment. Her two cats, Biscuit and Muffin, greeted her at the door, meowing their demands for food, and her dog, Leo, trotted over, tail wagging.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Kate muttered, dropping her keys on the kitchen counter. She dished out their food and grabbed a frozen dinner from the freezer for herself. Dinner for one.

Her nightly routine was simple, predictable—like clockwork. Feed the pets, take a shower, brush her teeth, and get into her pajamas. The TV was background noise at best, something to fill the silence. After flipping through a few channels, Kate settled on some true crime documentary, but her attention was elsewhere.

Her mind wandered back to the same question it always did—what's on the other side?

Kate had always been fascinated by death. Not in a morbid, suicidal way, but in a curious, almost scientific way. She wasn't trying to die, but the idea of coming back after death... that had always captivated her.

She brushed her wet hair out, her reflection in the mirror staring back. She was average in every sense of the word—shoulder-length brown hair, pale skin, tired eyes from lack of sleep. Mid-everything, really. But her mind—her mind was anything but average.

When Kate finally crawled into bed, Biscuit and Muffin were already there, curled up in their usual spots. Leo took his place at the foot of the bed, and Kate stared at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to when she was younger, to the moment that started it all.

She was about twelve, maybe. Her family had gone to the beach for a day out in the sun, and everything had been perfect. Until the screaming started.

A little boy, maybe eight, had been swept out by the waves. Kate remembered watching as the lifeguard sprinted across the sand, diving into the water. For a moment, everything had gone silent around her. All she could focus on was the lifeless form of the boy as he was pulled from the water. She hadn't looked away, even when her parents told her to.

He hadn't been breathing. The lifeguard pumped at his chest, over and over again, and finally—after what felt like forever—the boy coughed up water and gasped for air. Kate remembered the crowd clapping, relieved, but her focus stayed on the boy as he sat up, clutching his chest. His words had stuck with her ever since.

"I saw God," he'd said, his voice hoarse. "I think I died."

Even now, lying in her bed with her pets beside her, that memory clung to Kate like a shadow. What had he seen? Was it really God? Was there something after this life?

And now, there was the article—the scientist who claimed that the soul could be captured, held, and even returned. Kate had spent years pondering what happened after death. Maybe now, she'd finally have a chance to find out.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her back to reality. She reached over, her heart skipping a beat as she read the headline.

Scientist claims breakthrough in near-death experiences: "We can return the soul."

Kate stared at the screen, her mind racing. Maybe this was it. Maybe she could finally know.