The reason

Chapter 1

Okay, so this is the first book I've done. I wanted to create a book that may mean something to others. I hope this is okay, I appreciate any comments.

Year after year, scientists work to discover an explanation for anything and everything. Spend time they will never get back, searching for answers. But one fact of life will forever remain a mystery. Not that it has anything to do with life. Century after century humans have wondered what happens when we die. Theories and beliefs are echoed throughout the human population. It is one fact no-one will ever return to share with us. It eats at us, but we will not feel enlightened until our inevitable end. It is pointless to waste time wondering, we'll all find out when our time comes. It is questions that cannot be answered that prey on our minds, causing an endless thirst for answers. Answers that will satisfy the depth within us from which the fear of the unknown originates. I'm Reegan Alexander, 16 years old, telling you my experiences in this world, and why I don't fear death.

Surely you've been told about the 'meaning of life'. A supposed theory as to our very creation and existence. What nobody tells you is that is doesn't exist. If it changes constantly from person to person then there is not one true meaning. At least that is what I believe. That there is no meaning, no purpose. We survive only because of our most primal instincts. And then we die.

When I was ten my little brother died from leukaemia. I still remember his funeral. I remember the crying adults and the sobbing, the sad words. I didn't cry. I found the long ceremony tiring and boring. I couldn't wait to escape from the pews surrounded by sadness. I don't feel bad about any of this. He would have been just as bored. Even though he was dying, he was full of life. Everyone loved Ben, he was only six, but he had so much fire, so much charisma. My parents spoiled him with presents and gifts, he was the favoured one. He spent enough time in a hospital bed, and he hated being cooped up. He would have hated being kept in a coffin. But I guess funerals aren't for the deceased, they're for the grieving families.

In a slow black parade we made our way to the local cemetery. Everyone was silent as my Dad and uncles carried the small coffin to the hole in the ground. I still remember the smell of pine, wafting to us from over the fence. It was a nice smell, it still reminds me of him. All I could think about as they lowered the coffin in was how cramped he'd be, how lost and trapped. I stepped up with everyone else, dirt sifting through my fingers until I released it. And then it was over. People I didn't know came up and hugged me, crying and saying how sorry they were. I thought that was the end of it, that we'd go back to normal. But we didn't.