Shades

1

[ Uncompleted & Unedited ]
Sometimes I wondered what it felt like to have died, and then I realise that there must be a good reason why I can't remember. My father once told me that death was nothing to be afraid of - that it was merely another detour on the path of existence. I believed him. I wish I could say I did it because I was young and naive to the true state of the world and the life that was yet to swallow me, but such lies aren't welcome amongst the dead. Maybe I thought that if I believed it, it would come true. To be completely honest, I can't explain why I believed him. This is because I can't remember. My brain was completely wiped of memories during the passing, as with all the others around me. Our minds were reduced to blank slates.

Maybe if I'd known I'd never see the sun again, I wouldn't have done it. Then again, I don't think even that could have stopped me.  I wish I could remember what I actually did to get here - what caused my death - so I could answer at least a few of the buzzing questions flying through my head but I can't remember anything. Where did my memories go? Why did they go? What did I do to deserve this? The questions were relentless.

I float around an empty field, everything a shade of grey. Which is ironic to say, as all I can see is the other people. But that's the only visible colour - grey. Maybe the dead can't see in colour. Maybe this field is full of colour and I just can't see it. Or maybe it truly is grey. Greyer than the ash that once settled upon Pompeii.