I sat in the long, narrow wooden boat. It didn't feel like anything. I was almost surprised when my hand didn't faze through the entire thing when I touched it.
The boat had to be at least ten feet long, hardly two or three feet wide. A tall, paper-white, horned and winged figure stood at the opposite end, facing away from me. He paddled the boat slowly along with the staff of his scythe.
"This is what death is like, isn't it?" As I spoke, my voice felt and sounded hollow. I didn't know what to think, but in some strange way, I was comforted by the stagnant aurora.
"Yup," the man replied in his thick voice. He spoke smoothly, not seeming to care to look back to me.
I didn't know what else to ask or say, really. I peered over the edge of the boat, only to see an abyss of nothingness. No water, no lava, no ground. It's like I could see downwards forever with nothing to obstruct my view. There was no light source, but I could see; I could see the man, I could see the grains in the wood, I could see myself.
There was a pause that felt like an eternity had passed before I spoke again. "Where are we going?"
"Nowhere," the man responded, "this is purgatory. You don't go anywhere for a while."
"What happened to me?"
The being stopped his paddling, turning to look at me. I could only stare at his well-defined, thin face; his eyes like a black void that I could see myself in from so far away. He lifted his scythe, taking slow, heavy steps towards me, sitting in front of me. "You want the whole story?"
"As much as I can know, I guess," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.
"You were at your sister's wedding," he began, "you were dancing with the man you were with... Derek, I believe."
Derek.
He continued: "You had forgotten to take your pills that day. Your heart gave out, and you died. Cardiac arrest."
My mind rolled over the information given to me. My memories returned to me, piece by piece. "Where am I...?" Was all I could bear to ask. He didn't say anything, so I added, "...me. My body. Earth. Where am I?"
"You're still at the reception. You're surrounded by most of the guests. Your sister is crying. Derek is crying. Your stepfather is crying."
I shuddered at the thought, turning away from the being before me. It was almost impossible to imagine that that was happening right now, in the real world. I felt so bad for everybody. This was supposed to be my sister's special day, and I God-damned ruined it. I God-damned ruined all of those memories, their experiences, and a select few of their lives.
But I couldn't cry. I couldn't bear myself to. I couldn't necessarily bring myself to feel depressed or sad or anxious. I felt bad for not feeling bad.
The demon stood back up to resume his place of steering the boat. I couldn't bring myself to move, to look around, to feel. I just sat there, forever, mulling over these thoughts over and over again, until I was interrupted.
"Gordon James Foster, you have arrived."
