You are inexplicable. | ONC 2021

Prompt: Death has records of everyone's existence.
Except - according to Death - your records don't exist.
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PREVIEW

You stumble forth into blackness.

Past the threshold, there is nothing solid beneath your feet. You plummet into the oblivion below, clutching wildly at the emptiness around you. There is no sensation but the terror of freefall in the pit of your stomach and the freezing rush of air against your skin. Impenetrable darkness presses on your eyes. You fear that it will swallow you.

You take solace in the fact that there is still air to breathe, even though every gasp seems to turn your lungs to ice. Distantly, you recall that hell is supposed to be firey and painful. In your desperation, you accept this comfort that you must be headed elsewhere.

Without warning, your feet connect with something solid, and the impact shudders through your bones, leaving an agonizing ache in your knees as you collapse in a heap.

You roll over, eyes meeting the sky. It's hazy and more grey than blue, but its wispy clouds provide the same relief as spotting a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

Death leans over you, obstructing your view. His empty sockets pull your thoughts back to the abyss, shattering all comfort. "Come on, I haven't got all day."