Life After Death

Chapter 3

After what seemed like decades (who knows if it was?) of darkness, I realised I was still around. There was no pain anymore, no hatred. No terror.

I tried to move and realised that, after moving them, the legs I thought had been broken forever could move.
Was the rest of my body in working order? My feet? My hands? My arms?

Could I see?

I opened my eyes and my heart sank, it was pitch black. No joy there.

My ears worked though! Either that, or it was my imagination; there were voices, laughing, crying, singing, and just simply talking. It was....refreshing. I guess this is what life's supposed to be like, for people who aren't, y'know, like...well, me.

I always thought that the afterlife would be dark. Cold. Hateful. Like me. But this was paradise. It was the way life was before I discovered who I was. Before I met my friends. Before I went on the journey.

Come to think of it, what was the journey? I forget what made my life so bad, only that it was. That I was bullied often and always, almost from the time I could talk. The second I could walk, my dad saw me as worthless. The kids at school thought I was repulsive, and I agreed.

Until you met your friends, I thought. Until I met my friends. I smiled.

Then the light turned on. I could see! The room was made of all the beautiful things from my life, and then some of the dreams I could never fulfil. My eyes filled with tears at the thought of never seeing another day on earth.

"Don't cry," I jumped, there was someone behind me "it only makes things worse."
As I turned, I realised the voice was from a woman, who reminded me very strongly of someone, though the name escaped me.
"I was always told it made you feel better," I sniffled, wiping the tears from my eyes. I must have been a pathetic sight.
"You were told wrong. Many people I've seen cry their hearts out, but does it make things better? No, you have to seek the help for yourself. Crying doesn't get you help," she replied, offering me a hanky (yes, a full blown lace trimmed hanky, I didn't ask) "it might help if you get out of the room. It's supposed to be a reminder of your life. So you can create a way out for yourself."

As I hesitantly took the hanky, I felt more in the dark than ever. Why did I pick this woman as my way out? Who was she? Whoever she was, she was familiar. And kind.

Who could she be?

Whoever she was, she was my ticket out of the sadness that seemed to envelop me. As she held out a hand for me to take, she smiled at me.
"It's ok Ava, you'll be safe here."
I started. How did she know my name?