The scariest place, one you haven't visited yet, but you will, eventually, has no name. It floats in the minds of the adventures, the wanderers, the explorers; which we over the years have named: the void.
When you have your life taken away from you, you don't die. Death is a figurative term for those who haven't witnessed it. You're empty on the inside, you should've died, but you still see yourself standing. Why is that? I'll make it easy for you, to comprehend what it's like.
Imagine you get shot in a crowd, you get stabbed by someone who hated you, you get a heart attack -- You're on the ground, aching, begging for help. You surpass the highest feeling of pain your ability to experience can allow you to, but what happens next? Take a wild guess.
The pain goes away. It stops hurting, so you take a few minutes to recover from what you've been through, you lift your head up and straighten your posture, but there's no one around you. Where did everyone go? You go on questioning yourself, your existence, your memories. There is no concept of time anymore. You're not in a race against anyone, because there is no one around anymore to have it with.
You try to go on about living as if you would normally. It's been days, weeks even, you haven't eaten, taken a shit, or even slept. The desire to do so is gone, it's not there anymore.
This isn't the sort of thing you would get through logically, or with reasoning, as you normally would. Every philosophy you held about existing has been layed to waste infront of you.
To think you've been possessed by a demon, or even believe you have gone insane, to accept either of these two facts sounds more fulfilling than accepting you're now absolutely alone. All alone. After a while, it feels like a dream. There's grey taint all over your spirit, you're slouching on the couch, half dead near the Television that's showering you with static. A very, very, very, real, and horrible, dream. You black out.
You start resonating left, right, left, right, repeatedly. Fast, but not violent; an intimidating, but not exactly a threatening type of motion. You remember now. You remember what happened to you before you took off.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that's when you met me.
"What... what happened?" You asked. "Where am I?"
"You died," I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
"There was a... a truck and it was skidding..."
"Yup," I said.
"I... I died?"
"Yup. But don't feel bad about it. Everyone dies," I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. "What is this place?" You asked. "Is this the afterlife?"
"More or less," I said.
"Are you god?" You asked.
"Yup," I replied. "I'm God."
"My kids... my wife," you said.
"What about them?"
"Will they be all right?"
"That's what I like to see," I said. "You just died and your main concern is for your family. That's good stuff right there."
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
"Don't worry," I said. "They'll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn't have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it's any consolation, she'll feel very guilty for feeling relieved."
