Sentenced To Eternity (On Hold)

Chapter 2

Sentenced To Eternity

Chapter 2

Alise's Point of View

I’m not really sure if it was the shock of being accused of committing a crime far beyond me or just natural reasons, but I died. 

I think. 

The world around me exploded violently.  All those times I had dreamt and wrote about what death would be like I had never imagined it as the horrific experience I was having now.  The world was flooded with blinding white lights and powerful winds that stung my eyes and body.  Tears streaked my face, the saltiness of them was hard to bare with the already wicked winds that whipped my body so fiercely.  I held my face in my hands, the tears worse than ever now.  I had never thought I’d see the day that I would actually. . . cry. 

Suddenly it was all gone. 

I was sitting in my hospital bed; my family was sitting around me crying and moaning.  Nurses and doctors stood in the doorway; sympathetic looks were smeared across their faces.  “Mom, Dad, Clara, I’m here!  I’m okay, your little girl’s alright.”  Neither my family nor the doctors seemed to realize what I was saying.  “Mom?” I asked.  “Dad, Clara?” I asked again.  There was no response from them.  I waved my hand in front of their faces, but they just kept crying.  The tears had stopped, but my eyes still felt wet and puffy.  I looked down.  My body was clearly there, it was dark, solid, and distinct.  I held up my hand.  It was nearly transparent and ghostly white. 

Ghostly?

I looked up from my hand; I was no longer on my hospital bed in a hospital.  The scene around me was clearly a funeral.  I was sitting in a marble coffin, but I had my head sticking out.  I slid down into the coffin; I could see my real body lying there looking cold, but peaceful.  I stuck my head back out of the coffin.  My family, friends, and people I had never met were circled around my coffin.  Tears streaked the faces of almost all the woman there.  The only woman who wasn’t tear stricken was my Aunt Jude.  She was the toughest woman I had ever seen, not a tear had ever come from her eyes.  Not even when she was born.  Nope, that woman was tough.  And she sort of. . . hated me. . .

The scenery around me shifted again.  This time I was lying on a cloud.  The woman whom I am now positive is an Angel was sitting in front of me.  She held an acoustic guitar in her hands, she strummed the strings quietly. 

“Where’s your harp?” I asked.  She looked up from her guitar.

“Come again?” she asked politely.

“Aren’t you an Angel?  Shouldn't you be playing a harp, not a guitar?  Isn’t that what Angels do, sit on the clouds strumming their harps waiting to go and tell someone that their life is up and that they need to go up to Heaven?”  

She laughed quietly.  Her laugh was like a bell.  It was sweeter than anything I had ever heard.  She smiled a sad yet amused smile that said ‘what you’re saying is funny, but I’m not sure if it’s the right time to laugh considering your situation.’ 

“Well, are you going to answer me or not?  I’m really not too fond of you taking my life away from me at sixteen, then telling me that I’m on trial for murders that I never nor could have committed!”  I was practically yelling now.  The Angel now had a solemn look on her face. 

“I am not an Angel so neither I nor do any Angels play the harp.”  I could feel bafflement appear on my face. 

If she wasn’t an Angel than what was she? 

“I am a Messenger,” she said, answering my question.  Again I found it very scary that she was reading my mind.  “I don’t decide when someone dies or where they go, I just pass on the message and take you where I am told to take you.” 

I felt sort of bad about losing my temper with her, but I was still angry.  Though I wasn’t really sure who I was angry with.  “Apology accepted,” said the Messenger. 

“Where was I just seconds ago?” I asked trying to hold back my bubbling anger. 

“You were nowhere, my dear.”

“No, that’s not right.  I was in my hospital bed, but I wasn’t really there.  I was like a ghost.  Then I was at my own funeral, but I was like a ghost again.  Am I dead now?” 

The angel looked sympathetic.  “No, you are simply in a coma.”

“So all of this is just a dream and I'm not dead?” I asked.

“No it is all very much real and you are still alive.  Your human body is in a coma from MRSA caused by a cut from someone’s boot.  Your body won’t die until your trial is completed and where you will go in your after-life is decided.”

“Didn’t you say I’m going to. . . Hell?” I asked with a shudder.

“Most likely.  You’re believed to be the person that killed those innocent people so it’s likely that you will indeed go. . . There.”  I shook my head, this couldn’t be happening, I could never have done that.  “But everyone thinks that you did,” said the Messenger reading my mind again.

“Wait, you said I was nowhere when I watched my funeral and my parents crying about me dying.”

“That was just you passing through to this realm.  Whenever you travel at the speed of light you see the future.”

“So, will this happen?  Is there any way I can prevent myself from dying?” I asked.  She shook her head sadly.  

“All those things you saw will indeed happen.  There is no way to prevent yourself from dying.  Since you were born you were supposed to die at the age sixteen.  That is just the way your life was written.  You will die, your Aunt Jude won’t cry at your funeral.  Clara and your parents will sit around your hospital bed in grief.  Everything you saw was the future, it wasn't really happening you just thought it was.  You weren't anywhere, you were just watching somewhere.”  I couldn’t believe it.  I would never graduate from high school.  Or marry Taylor Launter.  Or ride Snowball, my neighbor’s horse.  Or really anything.

The Messenger gripped my hand in hers.  “Get ready,” she said.  Before I had a chance to say ‘for what’ I experienced a quick flash of the future (I watched my little hamster, Gus, running his plump hamster butt off on his wheel) and we were suddenly in a large throne room. 

I think.  

~Kara    

~Edited by Kc