A Writer's Destiny

I was disoriented this morning when I woke up. I felt that something was wrong; this was strange for me. I sat up with a groan in my bed and realized that I could see, my glasses weren't on and I had needed prescription glasses since the second grade, and then I realized something else… I wasn't wearing my CPAP mask and I knew I went to sleep wearing it. I got out of bed and then looked back at my bed, I always made my bed in the mornings after I woke up, and that's when I realized it: I had died. In my bed, was me: my body. I couldn't believe it and I couldn't understand; I was only 25 and a healthy college student except for some minor problems like my sleep apnea. But there I was on the bed, my chest wasn't rising and I knew I didn't have a heartbeat either. I was dead.

I heard a gasp behind me and I realized that my roommate had woken up. I looked at her, she was sitting up in her own bed, but she was looking at me! Not my body, at me! She must've realized same thing that I had, that I had died because from the way she looked, I knew she had seen both me and my body. It felt like my heart sank into my stomach because now it was even more real, someone else had seen that there were two of me: my body and whatever I am now. My hands trembled as I looked over to Jess, my roommate, and I knew that this request would be strange for her. Jess was always very practical, scientific, and logical, in some ways she reminded of Mr. Spock from Star Trek; but this request would be very odd, the entire situation must be strange for her, she never believed in ghosts before.

"Please give me a half-hour before you called police; I want to see my family before the police tell them. I want to see my family one last time." I say to her.

Jess just nods and I thank her. I walk to the door to try out something that I heard about ghosts: that they could walk through walls. I hit the door and rubbed my nose; I could still feel a little bit of pain and I now knew that I still had to physically open the door. I stepped into the hallway of the dorm and then things got a little confusing.

Time seemed to stand still and I knew that I was moving but I don't know how; the next thing that I knew, I was in Wal-Mart and I could see Mom. She was with Erica, my sister, and Eden and Zack, Erica's kids and my beloved niece and nephew who I had loved and cared for as if they were mine. I had always had a funny feeling that I would never have kids and so I treated Eden and Zack like they were my own children. Erica was always worried about them, because of her health issues, so she made me their godmother; she knew that I would do anything for them and that I was nearly fifteen years younger than Erica.

I walked over to my mother and I could feel tears in my eyes, I was crying; I thought that this would be the last time that I saw her. Mom was holding Zack and I kissed his small forehead, I felt like crying because I would never get to see him grow up, he would never know who I was since he was only six months old now. I loved Zack and felt the closest to him; I was the one that named him and I had just claimed him as my own when I held him for the first time. Zack shifts and fusses for a moment but Mom smiles at him.

"Don't worry, we'll see Auntie soon. She's going to love seeing you." Mom tells Zack and I tried not to sob. I hug my mother and I feel her stiffen.

"I love you, Mom." I tell her before letting her go and I kneel down to Eden's height. Eden is just looking around the store and I hug her to me.

"I love you, sweetie. Be good for Mommy, Grammy, and Poppi. Take care of Zacky for me." I tell her as I hug her.

"Aunt Lacy?" I hear her ask and I let her go.

I turn to try to find Dad and it happens again. Time seems to stand still but I know that I am moving because when I come to, I'm in a hotel room and I see Dad sitting in a chair; he's reading his Bible. I sit across from him and he looks up when he hears that chair move. His eyes widened and his breath catches in his throat; I know that he can see me.

"I'm sorry, Dad, I love you." I tell him.

I close my eyes and let myself cry. When I open my eyes, the world is different; it is all gray and I am in a different place. I see shelves and shelves of books, small statues, and busts; I cannot see a ceiling but I can see clouds above me. I realize that I am on a rolling ladder, like in a private library; the private library that I dreamed of having and had wanted when I finally made it big as a writer. I could also see the floor is bright red and orange.

"Where am I?" I ask out loud and I see two busts that I recognize: my favorite actors, Peter Pryce and Vin Cushing. I see an image of Vin Cushing come out of his statue.

"Welcome, Lacy, to the afterlife." He says and I feel a gust of wind as the shelves rush by and we move quickly. The shelves are mostly a blur.

"Where am I though?" I ask; I knew that this wasn't Heaven or Hell.

"You are among your peers." Vin said and I could see busts of William Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, Mary Shelley, Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Bram Stroker: some of my favorite writers.

"No. They're out of my league, much better than me." I say but Vin ignores me.

"This is the place where you choose where to go." Vin tells me and I look down to what I have realized is Hell and I see fire and feel heat.

I can see smoky images of me being given awards, becoming a famous writer, and many other dreams of mine coming true and somehow know that it is something that Hell is offering; I look up to the clouds and see nothing, no images or offerings. I shake my head and close my eyes tightly.

"No! I won't choose! I'll go where I'm judged to go!" I yell and I can hear the flames under me roar and I feel the heat as they rise up. I screamed as I felt the fire engulf me.

"Very good, Lacy, you passed your test." A voice said and I opened my eyes.

The fire was gone, I couldn't feel the heat from it anymore, and I was in a new place once again. This place was completely white and I was with a man that I didn't know. He was older, with white hair and his face reminded me of some of the aging actors who age well.

"Sir? Where am I?" I asked.

"You are here. You passed your test, so you aren't down below but you ain’t up top either." He said as he began to walk and I followed him.

"Please sir, I don't understand." I said and he nodded.

"Most people don't understand when they first come here so ask your questions and I'll answer them the best way that I can." He said.

"Sir, what is your name?" I asked, I had an idea that I wanted to be sure.

"Well, I'm not St. Peter. Just call me Paul, not the biblical Paul." He said and I nodded in understanding.

"Did I really die? What did I die of?" I asked; I really wanted to know if I had died or if this was all a dream and if I did die, I wanted to know what had killed me.

"Well, Lacy, you did die. There was an aneurysm in your brain, same thing as your grandmother, but don't worry it wasn't painful and you passed in your sleep." Paul told me as we came to a white counter and I sat down on a tall white stool while Paul went behind counter.

"What is this place? Where are we?" I asked.

"You're not in Hell but you're not in Heaven either. You haven't completely passed on." Paul told me.

"What do you mean?" I asked; I was very confused and I didn't understand what he meant.

"Lacy, you are dead and your soul has been judged, but you're not quite ready to pass on completely." Paul said; not quite answering my questions.

"Paul, can I watch over my family for a little bit? I don't want to haunt them or anything like that. I just want to keep an eye on them for a little while." I said and he nodded.

"In this place, you'll be able to watch over your family. Your love for your family is one reason why you can't pass completely to heaven. You have always considered it your duty to watch over Eden and Zack. Your stories were never finished and that is another reason that you can’t pass on. Here, you can finish your stories." Paul said.

I didn't understand it all and was silent for what felt like a long time. I don’t know how long I just stared at the counter, just lost in thought and trying to process everything, but I felt a hand on mine and I looked up. It was Paul. He was looking at me with an expression that I couldn’t understand.

“Come. I will show you where you can finish your writing and where you can see your family.” Paul said.

I said nothing as he led me away from the counter and he led me to a door that was black with white skulls with a hazard sign in the middle of it and a sign on the handle that said “Enter at your own risk.” It was just like my bedroom door at home. I laughed when I saw the door because it made me think of home and how I would hole myself up in my room when I was inspired; it also reminded of the times that Eden would sleep over and the times that I would stay up and take care of Zack so Erica could get some sleep.

Paul opened the door and I saw what looked like my bedroom from home. The dark blue walls with my weird pictures and photos, my hanging skeletons there were dressed like prisoners and pirates, even what looked like my TV and Grandpa’s antique roll top desk. The only thing that was missing was my bed and that made the room feel a lot bigger than my real one did.

“It’s just like my room, except for the bed.” I said with a small giggle.

“Your favorite place to write and most of your favorite inspiration pieces; you will find Edgar inside the desk as well as writing materials, and copies of everything you were working on.” Paul said.

“Deadly Nightmares?” I asked; it was the one collection that was the closest to being finished, one of my favorites, and it was the one that I was using for one of my final projects.

“Yes, your favorite collection and the closest one to being finished. I will edit it after you finish writing all 13 of the stories.” Paul said and I nodded in understanding.

“What is the TV for? I don’t think I can get cable up here.” I joked and Paul chuckled.

“No cable but you can use it to watch your family and loved ones. Each channel is tuned to a different person. Please remember that there are no censors. So you may want to be careful while channel surfing.” Paul explained.

I felt my cheeks heat up and I knew that I was blushing.

“Yes. You may see some things that you wish you didn’t. So be careful.” Paul warned before he nodded to the desk.

“You should start working; the sooner that you begin, the sooner that you finish, the sooner that you can pass on.” Paul told me before he walked out of my room.

I walked over to Grandpa’s desk and rolled up the top; a folder with a paisley pattern was sitting next to a stack of paper, on top of the paper was Edgar: a skull that Dad bought me when I graduated high school. Edgar was important to my writing process when I was home because he was much more than a paperweight or an inspiration piece: he was my co-writer, in a way. I would talk to Edgar as if he could talk back and speak for him or imagine his responses; I would bounce ideas off him, use him to create the dialogue, or argue about what to do in the story

“Come on Edgar, we got work to do!” I tell the skull as I moved him to the top of the desk so he would be watching me.

I sit down in the office chair and I open the paisley folder, eager to start working, and I start to flip through the various pages inside. I smiled and giggled when I re-read my first story because of the coincidence of a character that was named Paul but that was much different from the Paul that I had just met.