The Waiting Room

A purple "14" flashed briefly on a screen, before flickering to a Claymation of a thousand methods of ending one's life. "Which one were you? Do you remember?" the screen taunted. Of course I remember, the last breath I took before colliding with a drunk driver. How could I forget? I noticed that no one has risen for their appointment yet. Then I spotted them. Green-skinned and somehow they manage to look pale, the creature wobbled, no, not wobbled, waddled? Something that caused the effect of looking like a pretentious drama student mimicking Mr. Bean. "19283" my ticket read. I was to be here a while. Well this was not what I pictured when I imagined the afterlife, but perhaps better days are ahead, days beyond this hell- how ironic, me, stuck in purgatory, comparing it to hell; surely, this was only a sample of what is in store for me.

A chunk of greening polystyrene landed in my lap, leading me to look upwards, and this was my biggest mistake yet. There was an infestation on the ceiling, that likely had developed its own language and culture by this point. I shivered, slightly cold, but not yet desperate enough to dare ask what excuse for blankets they were providing. I had only been in this room for under an hour, and I could already sense that the staff were experiencing a strong remorse for whatever wrongdoings led them to this point. I almost pitied them. Until I realised I may well become one in their ranks.

"Numbers one thousand and upwards..." An unfamiliar voice almost questioned, "This way." I struggle to see who is the source of this mysterious voice, until a brief glance at the floor reveals their identity to me. A petite girl in a green skirt, with her petticoat peeking out from underneath, she was no more than four feet tall; a stark contrast to the others in this room, whom I had only now noticed, are on average twice my height. The girl had one hand outstretched to her left. I slowly stand and walk towards her. Suddenly I felt drunk, or... drugged? Over the course of a few seconds, I regained my stability, and realised this girl had a name tag, 'Toko' it read. She led me... and oddly enough, only me to a separate room "Charlie's dead" I whispered, discreetly alerting her of the situation with her petticoat. "So are you, darling" she responded with a new confidence. The end of the hallway was fast approaching.

Death is what I believed to be the most terrifying experience of a human's life, and here I stand, corrected. Toko had now opened a door, to what at first glance, appeared like a surveillance room. "Pick your poison" Toko's voice maintained her earlier confidence, and upon further inspection I noted the events on the screens, 9-11, the Holocaust, various plagues, times of prejudice, and some even tailored to my traumas; my child witnessing my death, being forced to murder someone I love, and some I would rather not list. "Hm? I'm not getting any younger." Toko grew impatient. I didn't understand what she meant, 'pick your poison'? "Please, Toko" I stalled, unsure of how to phrase my question "What should I do?" she stared blankly at me, which I guess made sense, as we were both dead, and I'm assuming our astral selves differ from our human body's ways of portraying emotion. "You have committed acts against your own morals, and so, we have elected to allow you one more chance to redeem yourself." A poster on the wall explained in greater detail than my vague after-life tour guide. 

'SELECT YOUR DESTINY:

1. You may pick any event you can see

2.  You may change historic events

3.  You will not be able to return until the event is through

4.  Events do not have a time limit'

"So, I pick an event, and re-live it?" The list of rules seemed... oddly specific, and I wasn't quite sure as to why... did something happen? "Don't question it. The rules are only to keep me sane." She never answered my question.  Of the list the only one I believed I could tolerate was... none of them. "Is there another option?" A stupid question honestly, but worth a shot, Toko laughed, "We give you one opportunity to redeem yourself, and this is how you repay us?" The room's light flickered and suddenly I was lost.

The world around me faded in from black and I noticed myself in a labyrinth. I was confused, yet somehow unsurprised; at this point, what could surprise me? A video game-like text appeared above me, 'Pick a path, and don't regret it' I was beyond confused. I sprinted down the nearest path, hoping to find an exit, but instead finding the path changing behind me. I didn't stop running, and unlike in the overworld, here I couldn't die.

3 days passed before I found the first room, a room filled with water and more food than I'd ever seen in one place. In blood on the wall was written: 'Dionysus.' 'Why?' and 'Don't be cruel' If I've learned anything from Greek mythology, and the story of Dionysus, I wouldn't be able to drink anything here, and due to the myriad of foods, I would assume the same would apply in this case for food. One more thing I've noticed from being here was that no matter how little you ate or drank, you would just deteriorate, but yet again you would never die.

29 days had passed at this point, my body had decayed, and my skin had fallen off from the moist environment and lack of nutrition, picture trench foot, but all over. I had found a door, the first I'd seen in the whole duration of this maze. 'One of us' read a sign on the door, what the hell? The door was wooden and rotted, a reflection of my body's state in all honesty. The door crumbled to the floor and thousands of cadavers lay dormant on the floor. They ranged from newly deceased, to practically mummified. 

I had made a grave mistake. Those were anything but corpses, a fact I should have realised sooner given the circumstances. However they were not hostile, which was unexpected, instead, they were people like me, scared, and decomposing. The oldest of us has been dead 200 years, he said before him a group escaped, however that exit had been covered. 

I've been here 40 years now, and I never thought I would say that I would not want to see my daughter or wife ever again, but if they were here, I would be broken. Please If you're reading this, take any chance to redeem yourself, follow your own morals, not anyone else's. Be someone 11 year old you would be proud to call a friend. Don't end up like us. Please.