The Trial

Chapter 2 - Edited

I know I'm dead, yet my mind remains and this is all rather strange. How many times did the state tell the citizenry there was nothing after death, except darkness? I think the state's going to be a little surprised to find they were just as wrong about death as they were about life.

There's the bloody bandage covering wound that ended my life, but most of my body is hidden by some kind of mist that covers everything else around me. I can sense the others who were in this room when I died, but can't actually see anyone. It's not looking down at my body that I find troubling, but not seeing any movement, not even the mist that hangs in the air. It's as if time has frozen and there's nothing I can do to bring about any movement.

I wish the Chief Justice were here right now. What would the old hag say about this? She'd probably call it some anti-revolutionary trick, since the state says there's nothing after death. Is she looking down at her own mortal wound? If my words made her foam at the mouth, then this has to be something really special and I wish I could see the look on her face. It would be preferable to staring down at the wound which has brought me to this strange place.

Whatever this is feels like a suitable punishment. There was so much more I could've done, instead of hiding like a coward. I told myself there'd be time to make up for everything I didn't do, but I knew I was lying. How many lives were lost because of me?

Had it not been for the call to bring about another purge, I'd still be one of the three most powerful people in the world. Despite what some may think, I'm no hero. I knew some of the real heroes and know there's a gaping distance between us. Most of my life has been spent keeping my head down, when the real martyrs were doing things at great risk to their lives.

There was a line that I read long ago that set me on my path. Did I find it on my own or was it one of the real heroes who guided me? I can't say for certain, but I'm almost positive it was one of them. It's strange to think one line of words could've changed everything for me, but it's the truth.

We hold these truths to be self-evident. Not some fiery speech or propaganda from the past, but one line of countless others I've read. That's all it took for an ember to stir within my soul.

I don't recall doing much of anything, since I feared the ember would burn out of control. Despite what the state said about truth, these words rang true and I knew I was in trouble if others suspected anything. There were other words, like inalienable rights and liberty, but had no idea what those words meant. It didn't matter to me that I failed to fully grasp their meaning; all that mattered was they meant something beyond the claims of the state.

The mist is starting to swirl around me and I should feel something, but all sensations are like distant memories of a life I no longer have. My mind tells me the mist should be cool as it presses around my body, but it would require me to actually have a body to feel anything. I've accepted my death and the bloody bandage serves as a visual reminder, but some part of me refuses to accept the evidence.