Alternatively

The Last Time

He jolted awake with a scream in his throat, and the first things he saw were flowers.

Golden flowers, glimmering in the light.

They wavered in the breeze and smelled like every single good thing he had ever known. He stared through the blades of grass at the shining petals, his ragged breath slowly calming. It was gentle and comforting, like nothing had happened, though he knew something had already went down. His muscles were still tense and phantom aches criss crossed over his body and he was missing something.

He sat up, looking out with drawn eyebrows. All around, wild flowers of jewel and metallic tones flourished down the hill and extended towards the edge of a lake. It glittered and shone brilliant blue, almost blinding him from the islands in the middle of the water. Wincing, he twisted to glance behind him, listening to the laughter and music drifting over the crest of the hill.

It was warm, inviting.

Blinking several times, he got to his feet, swaying a little as he shuffled to lean against a tree. Houses stretched on and on, big lawns and swimming pools and animals of all kinds, all the way to the gates. People went about their lives happy, healthy, and smiling. It was a conglomerate of styles, all in one neighborhood, and it was utterly picturesque.

It was missing something.

He rubbed his head, wondering what he was trying to remember. Everything looked right, seemed right, but he didn't get it. He didn't know where he was or who he was, much less what he was forgetting.

The gates yawned open, like they have been every five minutes, a couple of figures appearing at the walkway. He watched as they paused, unsure, before delving into the neighborhood. It was like clockwork and he assumed that's where he came from.

"A life so short, what is there to judge?"

"Take into consideration his final merit."

"Also note his first life," one man had flipped over a piece of paper. "I'm seeing an ideal candidate."

"Plus, he was very kind."

He took a deep breath, holding the scent of fresh baked cookies and wood smoke in his lungs before exhaling. Every time he breathed, it was different. He could briefly recall images to those scents; fresh laundry, warm waffles, lemon shampoo on a summer day, and sparklers lighting up grey eyes. The strange thing was, he didn't know if they were all from the same lifetime.

"That doesn't make sense," he grumbled, flexing his fingers.

"Sure, but it could have been a fluke."

The woman had rolled her eyes. "You can't accidentally save lives."

"One choice does not sum up one's character, it also shows here his temper can turn like the tide."

"You're holding up the line, Jefferson. The kid was a hero."

"Fine, fine," the third man had sighed. "On to Elysium."

He rubbed his forehead again. "Elysium, huh?"

The name rang a few bells, raised a few more memories. He clenched his hand, shifting so his back rested on the trunk. The bark pressed into his spine, rigid and rough, but it didn't hurt. The only pain he felt was in his head, distant thoughts he had to make an effort to hold on to. Although he was remembering senses and feelings, more concrete ideas and details were ether in his hands.

Someone laughed in the valley and he watched as a frisbee floated from one yard to another. Soft light seemed to exude from the houses, the people, and the very ground within the gates. The higher he looked, though, the darker the atmosphere; it was a darkness he couldn't understand, but it almost looked to be the top of a cave.