Lost Voices

The Boy I Could Have Loved

When I open my eyes I meet the sun. It's not glaring at me and neither is it hot. Its just illuminating a bright yellow. I wonder why that is.

I smile to myself, feeling calm and contented. I begin to sit up and realize that I'm in the middle of a dirt road, each direction seeming to be endless. Grass fields stretch out on either side of me and I spot a lanky dark figure near a tree staring at me with beady eyes. I realize that it's a man and he's hiding underneath the shade, observing me from a short distance.

I push myself up and wipe the dirt off my hands. The man twitches his shoulder and peers at me.

"Are you ready to go?"

His voice is throaty, making it seem like he hasn't drank water in a long time. I frown as I leave the dirt road and step on the grass, walking towards him. His hair is raven black and his complexion is paler than pale. This close to him, I can already see the boney structure of his face and the bright red of his pupils. He's wearing an old black suit that's snuggly fit around his body.

"Who are you?"

My question makes him smile softly at me.

"I'm the Angel of Death."

An image of a window suddenly flashes through my mind and I quickly realize that it's my last memory.

"I'm dead." I whisper to myself.

I remember my room. I remember the ceiling fan and the wooden table beside my bed. I remember the rain outside of my window and the heavy weight being lifted off my body. It felt like a Lucid Dream. It really felt like I was watching myself passing away.

Dying.

It strangely feels a lot like drifting off to sleep. I felt calm wash over me as I quickly realized that my time was almost up. I felt my heart beat rapidly for a moment, as if it was struggling to find air, to breath. But then, it started to slow down and pain began spreading in my chest. That's when my heart seized to function. My eyes fluttered close and the last thing I heard was the pitter patter of rain outside my window.

I was 83 years old when I died. Cause of death: the shortest heart attack known to mankind. I died in almost an instant, but at that moment, it felt like everything was in slow motion. I'm glad that my exit from the human world was less painful than most people.

I look down at my hands and realize that although I died at an old age, somehow my form as been altered in the afterlife. I am no longer an old woman with wrinkly hands and long fingernails. Somehow I'm a teenager again.

"You must be wondering why the age of your soul has changed. This is because you want to stay like this forever. It is your desire to be in this form."

I don't reply, instead I continue staring at my hands. At how utterly young and pale they look.  It boggles my mind that after death I can choose the shape of my soul.

My silence must have meant to him that I no longer wanted to know anything else because Death stretches out his right hand and gestures towards the empty road.

"I think it's time to leave."

"Wait! Before you...before you take me away to whereever it is we're going next, can I ask for a last request?"

He gives me a wide, toothy grin that shows off his sharp fangs. I refrain from stepping away from him. I can't let him see that I'm scared. He lets out a deep chuckle and his red eyes stay fixated on my face.

"You are not the first to ask this."

He peers at me, as if trying to figure me out just by studying my appearance. The smile on his face is gone and it's replaced by a grimace. I know that I'm trembling, but I keep my composure by holding my chin up. This seems to satisfy whatever it is he's looking for in me because he nods his head.