~Carl Grimes Imagines~

Death Itself

Okay guys, I'm not sure if this can relate to the walking dead, or carl for the matter, but I wrote this in english class and i'm proud of it and wanted to share it, so yeah, here we go........

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  As my end came near, there was no white light. All the things that people said about there being angels with giant, feathery wings and god himself coming to collect me in my final moments didn't seem true.
There was no one. No one had come to collect me. Where were they? Was I going to hell? Was I going anywhere?
My expectations of death were quite simple. Beautiful, flying angels, descending from a bright, pale light. I expected them to reach to me with soft, kind hands and lift me from my time on Earth to begin my time in the afterlife.
Was I destined to go to hell? To live in the desolate, crumbling inferno and to be greeted by the devil every sunrise?
Darkness. Nothing. Dull. Silence. That's my experience. I was told as a child to believe in the lord and he will take me to heaven. And so I have done. Now what? I'm here and he hasn't come. Maybe there is no god, or jesus, or such things as angels. Or maybe there is. I'm not so sure now.
Where are the golden gates? The brilliant, shiny portal to my immortality? Or the music? The harps? The clouds? Where is my peace?
Where is the fire? The harsh, loose rock? The godforsaken caves? The colour of red? The horns? The evil? Or maybe it is good?
Where are my family? The ones that have passed? I miss them, where are they? Will they take me to heaven?
Darkness.
No one is here, I'm alone. I feel as if I'm just sleeping. I'm full of stress and anxiety, but my body- if I even still have it- is calm. Occasionally, I would see patterns in the vastness, but only glimpses. This is it. This is my death. This is now my home.
Because it's death itself.