The Grasses Waving Above

Summary: Death. What happens? The afterlife? Reincarnation? A black wave of nothingness? Well, I would love to know, but I seem to be unable to die properly. And now I'm wandering around as a ghost. Yeah. So not cool. Especially when there happens to be a rather cute boy who can apparently see me. Would have been nice to know before I made a fool of myself. I love my life. Err, death?

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 “I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.” - Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Chapter One: And So It Begins

Death.

What comes to mind from that one, measly word? It sounds so simple, only one syllable, yet it has sparked wars, led to revolution, caused conflict. We fight. We struggle for those extra seconds, that extra moment, that extra breath to continue living. Why? For fear of the unknown? That childish fear that never quite left of the ominous all-powerful specter that looms behind the veil of life? Or is it something else? Perhaps there is something still left in life to live. Something more to life, more to experience, more to discover, more to cherish. Something…left unfinished.

I don’t know what day it was that I died on. I guessed that it was around a Wednesday, maybe a Thursday? I couldn’t tell. I had always wanted to pass away peacefully in my sleep of old age. Rather unrealistic, but I guess I got it in the end somewhat. All I had been aware of was the cold, the never-ending cold which sharpened into icy pinpricks and later numbness, but always persistently existing in the background. The snow surrounded me in soft blankets and the wind howled in a sheet of pure sound and chaos. Time ticked by. I’m not sure how long it was. One hour? Two days? Things became hazy, faded, sluggish.

The cold wind blew on.

Sounds. Noises. Blearily, consciousness began to slowly return to me.

“Clear! One, two, three!” What was going on? I willed my heavy eyes to open as was met with the painful sight of my body jerking under what looked to be electric shock treatment paddles. My immediate reaction was to flinch away from the scary-looking electrical tools, but the figure on the hospital table didn’t react at all. I tried to get up. Move my arm. Even wiggle my toes. Nothing.

“Clear! One, two, three!” I winced in anticipation at the phantom pain racing its way up my spine through my nerve endings. Nothing.

“Clear!” This time, I couldn’t help myself and flew forward to try and tug on the arm of the person holding the paddles, but my hand went straight through them and they were unaffected. “One, two, three!” Dreading the dawning realization, I slowly looked at the faint transparency of my hand and body. Nothing.

“No,” I hadn’t realized that I had spoken out loud until I heard myself, the barely audible, quiet voice loud to me despite the overpowering noise of the rest of the room.

No one turned to look at me.

“No!” I repeated, louder this time. “NO, please, oh god no,” I began to hyperventilate.

“Just, just look at me,” I said frantically, flying around the room and therefore going through everyone in an attempt to suddenly materialize. “I’m right here, just look.” I punched a doctor’s face as hard as I could out of frustration, but it never connected.

“Why…why can’t you look at me?” I slid down onto the floor, breathing harshly. I suddenly realized that it was silent. Not even the faint crackling of electricity was present. What was going on now?

“Time of death: 1080 hours. Location – “ I stopped listening.

“No, but I’m right here,” I shouted hoarsely in a last ditch attempt, refusing to accept the inevitable. I tried tugging the arms of my physical body. I tried throwing syringes. I screamed. I cried. I ranted to no one. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die, but I was, and there was nothing I could do, nothing, nothing, nothing…

Eventually, they finished writing down all the information needed, and wheeled me out. Having no choice to do anything else, I followed until I got to the morgue, where the body (I couldn’t think of it as being “me” or “I” anymore) was deposited in one of the freezer’s drawers. I sat next to the freezer for a long time, the only thing separating me from my past physical self (that was dead and wasn’t that horrifying?) to my current mental manifestation being a cold sheet of metal. Nothing.