Afterlife

The Crash (Old Version)

 

 

A/N:   Something from another point of view, this time you see the Grim Reaper and Mira in a different light. :)                 

The Crash

The crash was quick; Nathan only saw the bus he was in crumple into the RV at the last second, as he stared out the dusty window. A blow hit his head, blood splattering his face. The last thing Nathan thought was that he saw a strange hooded figure, striding across the tire-streaked road. A woman in white followed him.

***********

Nathan was straining inside his body, trying to rip from the ties connecting him to his body. Memories flew by in a torrent, too fast to remember. Birth, walking, bike riding, kindergarten, Manhattan, middle school, high school, first kiss…

A SNAP made him fly out of his claustrophobic body towards the twinkling stars. The teen floated back down before looking at himself. Nathan gasped, as he looked down at his translucent skin. He could see a puddle of red on the bus floor shining through his left arm. Suddenly, the pain came back. Nathan realized his head throbbed, and even more important, no one else was bursting out of their bodies.

“I’m all alone…” he whispered, sorrow crossing his mind for the others, just dead bodies.

“They couldn’t be saved.” A voice, hard as a blade ripping through the air, said coldly.

Before him was the hooded figure, holding a long scythe, the tip gleamed dangerously. The tip had penetrated the body of the dead teen, right through the chest, while the ghost watched. There was no injury from the scythe however. The woman was checking an hourglass; the sand inside was the color of blood. Nathan could just make out his name, Nathan Joshua Caverly, and his birth date, June 8, 1996. The sand was at the bottom.

He ran. Panting heavily, Nathan headed towards the woods. Before he could get there, the figure, which he now identified as the Grim Reaper, grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

“You’re dead Nathan. Can’t do anything about it.” The woman said matter-of-factly, following behind. “By the way, I’m Mira. And this is Grim.” She pointed at the figure; he let go and changed into the form of a pale Gothic teenager. His dark brown hair went down to his shoulders and was spiky. Gray eyes stared back at Nathan, daring him to say something. He held the scythe carefully, as if it could tear open the universe.

Now that he was closer, Nathan saw that the woman looked more like a teenager. Cacao skin hid underneath waist-length chocolate hair. White robes turned into white jeans, a white tank top with a silver draped shirt, and white-silver sneakers. The hourglass turned into a white watch. Mira smiled pleasantly, and consoled him,” Don’t be scared, we’re just bringing you to the Afterlife.”

Nathan thought of Heaven, a paradise where angels flew and people who had been good in their life roamed happily. Then he thought about Hell, a wasteland where the damned burned forever and Satan tortured others while being punished his self.

“I may have done some bad things, but not enough to go down there, right?” that nervous thought crossed his mind.

Then he thought of Purgatory or Limbo, forever a waiting room. He shivered.

“Am I going to Heaven?” the teen called out.

Grim hissed,” None of that exists.”

“Then how did you become the Grim Reaper? Shouldn’t God have picked you?”

“It’s for ghosts with special abilities. And as far as we know, Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory doesn’t exist.” Mira blurted.

“Not that God doesn’t exist.” She said quickly, seeing that Nathan was turning red. “Maybe the part of that Afterlife was made up over the millenniums.”