Death Becomes You

Chap 1 - Awakening

    Like some people, I thought that when you died you either went to a form of Heaven or Hell depending on how you lived your life. Not so much how you followed your form of the Bible or how much you prayed or worshipped however you did, but by what you did. A man who's a drug lord, hands out children as prostitutes and shoots someone goes to Hell. The other end of the spectrum being someone who helps a little old lady across the street, takes in a homeless starving kitten, donates all kinds of money to a good cause, or is always there to help someone in need goes to Heaven.

    The plain and simple fact is, it's not that simple. It never is and it never will be. When people die they aren't taken to Heaven or Hell. They're taken to Limbo. A lonely place where they get one final test. A test that sees if they can change. Call it a test of character. The drug lord may have been trying to feed his ten kids and taken a wrong turn in life. So they come up with a test that would equal to something he lived in life. If he passes then he returns to Earth for a second chance. A way to prove that he should be in Heaven. If he fails a second time then it's a one way ticket to below. Most would think it was unfair to do it that way, but the direct answer to that: Whoever your God is,  forgives his or her children. If they can show that there is something good in them then there is no reason not to.

    If you were a bad person and you pass the test there's two things that could happen to you depending on your crimes. If your crimes were severe then you're sent back to the Middle Plain to try again. If they're small crimes that have caused the deaths of people through some account than you become a Reaper. While some people believe there's only one Reaper, the truth is they'd be wrong. Think of it this way. The President running his country without help from anyone. It's just not doable. Impossible even for an immortal tasked with it. So there are many Reapers, each tasked with bringing souls, but never the same. There are the Reapers for violent deaths, illness, car accidents, etc.

    I was one of those people who believed in one Reaper and that was it. But I also thought I'd go straight to Hell without a final test. I hadn't thought I deserved one, not with the life I'd lead. Or at least, I thought so. You see when someone becomes a Reaper, they lose all memory of their previous life. Supposedly it's to keep them from going soft against their own family or friends, that kind of thing. It's a clean slate to start with. We only know we did something bad and this is our way of atoning for it. Not all Reapers are made this way, but most are.

    I'm sure you guessed that I failed my test, not that I remember it. But I want to. I want to know what I did that caused me to become a Reaper, but of course that's not going to happen. The only thing I remember is waking up in a dark room. It was so silent I felt like I'd gone deaf. It was my slight panic attack at being in the dark that finally made me realize that I could hear. That didn't tamper down what had started though. I felt this unbearable fear to the darkness. My throat felt like it was closing in and as I sobbed out I struggled with what had been confining me. As I toppled down and hit the hard floor I groaned out, momentarily stunned before I was scrambling away again, the warmth of tears spilling over my cheeks. The fact that I didn't know what was scaring me so much made it worse. The fear of not knowing, one would say.

    I'd been using my hands in front of me to feel, all the while thinking something was after me. When I hit the wall my hands moved up, my body following as I stood and used it to feel my way around until I reached a corner. I didn't know what else to do other than to sit with my back to it clutching at the sheet I'd dragged with me, my sobs filling the room as I huddled there like a child wrapped in a nightmare. I felt so pathetic, but even that couldn't penetrate the fear that filled me like a glass filling to the brim and spilling over.

    It felt like ages that I sat there, arms around my legs and head on my knees as I tried to stamp down on my fear. I was so caught up I didn't notice the change in the room. The light that filled it or the soft steps that moved toward me. When a hand touched my head, a feather light caress that brushed at my hair a shriek left me, causing the person to flinch as I jumped up and slammed back into the wall.