Hereafter

Welcome To Hereafter

No, it doest end with a boom or a bang, but with one whisper, followed by a scream.

I remember my earth life, many orbits ago indeed, funny to think everyone was so worried about the inevitable void of death; but now, we cling to death, horrified of the scars placed on us from the memories of earth. People's most joyous memories are the first ones they choose to lose once they... understand. Once they come to the understanding of the universe, memories kill, more than they already have. Memories become the worst form of torture. But overtime as orbits pursue, memories fade. Scars heal.

When I first arrived in Hereafter, and was told the truth of the universe, I was pissed. Unbelievably pissed. Every memory, thought, and reminder of what I went through burned every fibre of my being. But now, as I have been orbiting in the Hereafter for many many centuries, my scars have begun to fade, and well, I'm just chilling. I go about doing things I like to do, with people I like to be around, and just chill, "for all Hereafters to come," we often cheer. Scars serve as the most painful form of reminders of what we did on earth, our most catastrophic memories we loved while we were living. All of my scars have made me come to a realization: time is a healer, but more of a killer. Although the scars carved into my mind anguish from the memories I once proudly lived on earth have begun to heal over, the scars on my body remind me of just how pissed at the living universe I am. The way they use the things you love against you, all out of spite without one good reason, they are the controllers of the world. Fucking bastards.

When I open my eyes in the morning, I often feel nothing. Just awake, I am no longer laying down with my eyes closed, they are now open. More often than not, I walk to the sink and look at my scars. "Looking for progress," we call it. Progress in scars healing, showing how we are pulling ourselves farther away from life, farther from the memories. I have three scars. One on my cheek from eyebrow to right nostril, one on my shoulder from collarbone to shoulder bone to the tip of my ring finger, and one on my neck, line straight across. These scars I speak of also exemplify how we died. Mine? Murder. I like to joke about the only murder I faced was the murder of life itself... its Hereafter humour. After my daily "progress look" I often walk outside of my room, into the place I will spend eternity, and honestly, i'm just fine with that. From the memories that still remain, all I know is my life was fairly mediocre leading up to my murder. Did not amount to anything crazy, had no one cheering in my corner, just another person existing. Here at least I have forever to do something, anything. Possibilities are endless. A lesson the Hereafter has taught me is that I have no need, and no use of temporary people. My circle is small and petite, and I intend to keep it that way. I'm not fighting for a spot in anyone's nonexistence, I'm better than that.

So I have two friends. Yes, only two. Out of everyone who has ever died in all of humanity's time, only two people have introduced themselves as worthy to be in my afterlife. Adrik, the first soul I approved of, with his white frost hair that never seems put together, but also never messy. Grey eyes and a sad smile, captivating. But sadly, his eyes become useless because of that dumb dweebs blind mind. Absolutely no imagination. Oh well, were all souls carrying around a useless corpse all day so who am I to judge. I often feel he's quite lonely though, that sad smile gives off a depressive sort of persona. But I never let it affect me too much, because that sneaky little arrogant dweeb is full of twists, turns, and truths.

Cammi however, is the exact opposite. Bold and outgoing, talks a lot, but not too much to the point of being the vain of my nonexistence. As a mess of chaos she wears a smile loaded like a gun. Pools of ink for eyes devouring any remaining light in their intensity, dark, frizzing, and unkept effortless hair shape her face into a diamond. As an element, she would be fired. Strong and independent, she makes heads turn, she is who she is and wont let anyone attempt to mold her into something she's not. Her scar is fresh, she has only been in the Hereafter for around 500 years, still a little baby. It corsets her stomach in a straight line as a reminder for a memory on earth. The Memory? I wouldn't dare ask. Another one is draped over eyelid to eyelid, playing tricks on your mind every time she blinks.

So yes, out of everyone in all of mankind history, I chose an arrogant dweeb and a confidence obsessed flame. But that's the way I like it, and the way it's meant to be. They both look at me like there is something in me worth looking at. They describe me as a mean angel mixed with a kind devil... I take it as a compliment. My calling is Amara, it means immortal being. When we enter the Hereafter, we are given new callings to replace our past life names. It helps us move on... to forget. One thing I still cannot forget, perhaps my greatest horror in life, is when I saw the knife that killed me held into the air above me. I was powerless. No control, it was over. Looking back, I realize how lucky I am to have died young. To avoid the corruption and all the lies they told to everyone. I avoided so much extra hurt, scars, and memories. All this time I was scared of what was left for me when I was six feet under, but now I realize death was the one thing in my life that's certain, unavoidable, and good.