A Short Collection of Short Stories

Death

 I was always told that demons lived in hell and that hell was a place filled with fire and hatred. I thought about it for a while and wondered why they didn't feel the pain. I asked my mother why that was and she said that's just how it is. They don't feel the pain of the fire because that's just how they are.

The service was short and simple. They never told me that being dead could be so agonizing. Seeing all your friends and family weeping over your own corpse is truly something I wouldn't wish on anyone. The strange thing is, I could still feel. My spirit was still connected to my body in some way so every time somebody touched my arm, I could feel it on my ghostly skin.

The conveyor belt started as the terrifying reality hit me. Oh God why had I chosen to be cremated. As my body entered the chamber, I braced myself for the inevitable burning that would soon overtake my body... but it never started. As my family wept and watched my head finally disappear into the flames, I stood there dumbfounded as to why I wasn't feeling any pain. I walked over to the entrance and looked inside. My body was indeed burning.

My eyes widened in horror as one singular memory flooded into my mind. The memory of a conversation I once had with my mother. I wept loudly, yelling and screaming at the people surrounding my flaming corpse, doing anything I could to get their attention... but it was all in vain. I dropped to my knees and finally onto the floor crying in artificial silence at the reality of what I had become.