Hell's Next Queen

⚜My Seven Minutes⚜

I opened my eyes and quickly realized that it was no different than when they were closed. Then suddenly, there was a table in front of me. A projector sat on top of the surface and flickered to life.

A small room appeared on the invisible screen, a bedroom it appeared to be. A woman with a very large stomach was on the bed and a man stood at the foot. The woman's legs were spread wide and she was screaming out in pain. She was giving birth.

Her hair was cropped and dark brown, her skin a nice olive tone. The teeth in her mouth were perfectly white and straight, and her lips were a beautiful natural pink color. Her biceps were larger than the average woman, signifying that she did a lot of manual labor. She looked a bit young, maybe around twenty-years-old. The man looked similar in age.

His hair was a light blonde and his skin a few shades lighter than the woman's. His arms were large as well, most likely because of manual labor. I could not see his face.

Then, like a semi-truck on a back road, it hit me. That woman was my mother. That man was my father. That baby was me. That I am dead and I am witnessing my seven minutes.

Your 'seven minutes' are what is said to happen during the seven minutes after you die. It is possible to be resurrected about seven to eight minutes after death, so many people believe that this is what you witness during that time. Now, what are your 'seven minutes' you may be thinking. To put it simply, you spend seven minutes watching your life, at least the most major points, as a fly on the wall. Now, as you may have noticed, I am watching my birth, the very first in the sequence.

My father helped by holding the baby, me, as she came out of my mother. He snipped the umbilical cord with a pair of dripping scissors. He placed me in a nearby towel and brought me over to the open door. I assume this is the bathroom because I soon heard running water.

My mother sat with her head back against rest as my whiny screams resounded throughout the room. Her forehead was dripping and she panted as if she didn't know how to breathe until now. And I somehow still managed to find her beautiful. No, I don't have a weird crush on my mother, but if you asked anyone they would say she was beautiful. She not only to deserved to be the beauty queen of the century but of the millennium. She may not win the same prize if it was for mothers, but that was okay. If she had found her happiness in violence and unusual relationships, then that was how she found her happiness.

Then suddenly she did something that I didn't expect her to. She looked to the bed before her in all of its bloody gore and smiled. My mother was never one to smile at a gory scene or smile in general, but this is what she did. Then her head flickered to the bathroom and she saw her child and husband approaching. Her smile broadened as the male sat next to her on the bed and gently eased me into her arms. They sat in silence for a few moments before my father said something in a deep, husky voice.

"What are we going to name her, Kate," he asked quietly, "'cause now that we know it's a girl Ross Jr. is out of the question."

A small, almost silent, laugh escaped my mother and was followed by a minute of silence. "I think that we'll call her," she started and paused for thought. Suddenly continuing she finished off by saying, "Karma. I want her first name to be Karma. What do you think, Ross?"

He looked at my mother with a loving look in his eyes and replied with, "I love Karma. It has a nice ring to it. Karma Dea Jones."

They smiled to each other and the projector made a ticking noise. The scene swapped and my parents disappeared.

I didn't see my father's face.