I Thought You Would Have a Scythe

You see the world as it truly is, as it always has been. It is washed out compared to your memories, though everything exists in minute detail. The vehicle that struck you, now motionless, hangs above you mere millimetres from the surface of the road. After some time spent in observation, you realise that it isn’t actually motionless at all; it only appears that way, the same as everything else. You stand up, passing through the vehicle as though it were no more solid than vapour. No other beings exist in this world, not as far as you can see. You are in the world between heart beats. This is the moment you realise that you are dead.

Suddenly, you realise that you are not alone. He is there. The one that collects, the one that sends. The one that reaps. He is directly behind you. You sense his bony claw reach toward your shoulder, stop a few inches away from touching… What would it be? Not your flesh, you abandoned that in that other world.

SO, YOU UNDERSTAND. The words come from nowhere, booming through your being like bass at a nightclub. THIS IS GOOD. I DISLIKE HAVING TO EXPLAIN THE MOST SIMPLE THINGS TO PEOPLE ALL THE TIME.

You steel yourself, closing your eyes for a moment, swallowing and taking a deep breath. These are all things that you wish you could still do. Inevitably you slowly turn towards him.

TAKE YOUR TIME. WE HAVE PLENTY. ALL THE TIME THAT REMAINS IN THIS WORLD. The words scrape through your soul, scratching and tearing at it. It tickles. You would smile, if you had flesh remaining, laugh if you had lungs that still drew breath. But the truth remains. His voice, in this moment, tickles your very soul. Could it be that he has a sense of humour?

Idly you wonder about your death. Was it quick? Did you feel much pain? Were you drunk? The driver of the vehicle that struck you, was he drunk?

NONE OF IT MATTERS NOW. NONE OF THESE QUESTIONS HAS ANY BEARING ON ANYTHING TO COME FOR YOU. NONE OF IT EVER MATTERED TO ANYBODY BEFORE YOU AND NONE OF IT WILL MATTER TO EVERYBODY THAT COMES AFTER YOU.

You didn’t realise that you spoke aloud.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO SPEAK ALOUD. IN FACT, YOU CAN’T SPEAK ALOUD ANYMORE. NEITHER CAN I. I’M NOT SURE I EVER COULD. IT HELPS, YOU KNOW. IT MEANS I CAN GET THROUGH TO ANYBODY. NO LANGUAGE BARRIERS.

You will yourself to turn to him and see him as he truly is. Where you expected to see a robed skeletal figure, perhaps carrying a scythe, instead you see a young man. He looks as though he hasn’t eaten properly in a couple of weeks, sure, but he seems healthy enough. Deep within his black eyes there is a glint of bright blue, just a sparkling hint, twin lights at the bottom of immeasurably deep wells. The robe is there, as deep a black as his eyes. The scythe, however, is absent.

I DON’T KNOW WHERE PEOPLE GET THAT IDEA FROM. THE SKELETON THING AT LEAST MAKES SOME SENSE, BUT THE SCYTHE IS JUST SILLY. YOU ARE THE SOULS OF THE LIVING, NOT CORN OR WHEAT!

You think for a moment about his potential origins, wonder where he came from, who or what made him.

OH THAT. I DON’T KNOW THAT THERE IS A CONCLUSION TO COME TO. MAYBE I’M WHAT REMAINS OF THE FIRST PERSON TO EVER DIE? OR MAYBE I AM REALLY A GOD OF SOME KIND? MAYBE I’M JUST AN HALLUCINATION AND YOU ARE JUST IMAGINING ALL OF THIS AS YOU LAY IN THE GUTTER, BLEEDING TO DEATH? IT MATTERS EVERY LITTLE BIT AS LITTLE AS WHETHER YOU FELT ANY PAIN A MOMENT AGO.

He leans against the vehicle for a moment.

YOU SEE, NONE OF THIS IS REAL. He taps his hand against the vehicle, making no sound. Then, tapping again, his hand passes right through. SEE? NOW YOU TRY…

You do as he suggests, attempt to tap your hand against the truck. It takes a moment for you to realise that you don’t even have hands any more.

LIKE I SAID, NONE OF IT MATTERS NOW. FOLLOW ME.

He begins to walk along the side of the road. You will yourself to follow in his footsteps. You begin to wonder if he came to you for some particular purpose, whether large groups of people were easier for him to manage, even going so far as to consider what he might do in the event of a large-scale battle.

He stops in his tracks, turning to face you.

STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. YOU ARE NOBODY SPECIAL. I CAME BECAUSE YOU DIED. THAT IS ALL. EVERYBODY GETS TO SEE ME, EVERYBODY GETS THE PERSONAL TOUCH. EVEN WITH MILLIONS DYING ALL AT ONCE, EVERYBODY SEES ME INDIVIDUALLY. I AM CURRENTLY ESCORTING FOUR HUNDRED AND NINETY-SEVEN DIFFERENT PEOPLE TO WHATEVER AWAITS THEM. IT IS A SLOW NIGHT. AND, NO, I HAVE NO IDEA AS TO WHAT COMES NEXT.

You wonder why he does what he does.

I DO IT BECAUSE IT NEEDS DOING AND THERE IS NOBODY ELSE TO DO IT. IF THERE WERE, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THESE STUPID QUESTIONS.

He begins to move once again, and you will yourself to keep pace with him, walking side by side with him.

You content yourself with looking at your surroundings as you move along, noticing how the lack of colour managed to not at all detract from the beauty of the land.

THERE IS BEAUTY IN TRUTH, IN SEEING THE TRUTH OF THINGS. COLOUR ONLY EXISTS BECAUSE OF HOW MORTAL EYES FUNCTION. IT IS ALL ABOUT LIGHT AND THE PERCEPTION THEREOF. HERE, THERE IS NO LIGHT AND NO MORTAL EYES TO WITNESS IT.

You wondered why there was light in the pits that were his eyes.

THAT IS PROBABLY JUST YOUR IMAGINATION. OR ELSE IT ISN’T. IN ANY EVENT IT DOESN’T MATTER. YOU ARE STILL BETTER COMPANY THAN THE OTHER FOUR HUNDRED AND NINETY-SIX. THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO OF THEM STILL DON’T REALISE THEY’RE DEAD YET. AT LEAST YOUR QUESTIONS ARE INTERESTING IN THAT THEY ARE DIFFERENT. NOT VARIATIONS OF WHAT HAPPENS NOW.

You remind him that he already told you that he has no idea what comes next.

THAT’S RIGHT. BESIDES, EVEN IF I DID KNOW IT’D PROBABLY BE SOMETHING SO FOREIGN AND BIZARRE THAT MOST PEOPLE WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO COMPREHEND IT WITHOUT EXPERIENCING IT DIRECTLY ANYWAY.

You wonder what is coming next, though he remains silent on the issue. For mere moments, or perhaps centuries, you and he simply walk together.

Then you see the three doors, looming before you. They hang perhaps twenty centimetres above the surface of the road that you now traverse, perhaps a metre apart from one another. They are indistinct from each other, identical in every respect.

CHOOSE.

You can’t. The capacity to make a decision is no longer something that you possess. You need to know what is behind each door before you make a choice.

CHOOSE. CHOOSE NOW.

It is impossible.

THE FIRST DOOR LEADS TO REBIRTH. YOU WILL LIVE AGAIN, NOT RECALLING ANY OF THIS, OR YOUR LIFE BEFORE. IT MIGHT BE DIFFERENT THIS TIME AROUND, THOUGH.

The concept of reincarnation floats before your consciousness. The thought that you might end up in the same circumstances overwhelms you.

THE SECOND DOOR LEADS TO OBLIVION. THERE WILL BE AN END. TO EVERYTHING.

The void swimming in front of your mind, all that now remains to you, is at once comforting and the most terrifying thing you’ve ever encountered.

What about the third door? There is a third door…

I’VE OFTEN WONDERED ABOUT THAT ONE.

You’re wondering about it right now, in fact it is all that you can seem to think about.

IN ALL MY TIME HERE I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYBODY PASS THROUGH THAT DOOR.

You sense trepidation in his tone. Not exactly a voice, more a feeling in your… not your head, but where your head might be if you still had one that was relevant, and not under the rear wheel of a truck.

You open the third door. It moves silently, smoothly.

AHHHH. THAT’S HOW IT HAPPENS, THEN? I HAD FORGOTTEN, IT’S BEEN SO LONG.

A moment later, or a millennium, you realise that you are standing alone. With a physical form, much like that you wore in your life. Naked. The robe lies at your feet; you put it on. It itches.

An indeterminate while later you feel yourself drawn somewhere. Following your feet, allowing them to lead the way, you arrived at your destination.

An older gentleman was standing in the road over his very deceased body.

“What happened?” He asks at first. “Where am I?” You point down at his corpse. “Is… is that me? Am I dead?”

YOU ARE. you inform the newly discorporated mortal. ARE YOU PREPARED?

“Prepared? What should I bring? What’ll I need?”

FOLLOW ME. YOU DON’T HAVE TO SPEAK ANYMORE. IN FACT, YOU CAN’T.

How did he die? What happened to him?

I CANNOT ANSWER THAT, NOR CAN I SPECULATE ABOUT WHAT IS NEXT FOR YOU. Your memories fade into those of previous Deaths. OR FOR ME. COME, FOLLOW, AND I SHALL LEAD YOU TO THE NEXT PHASE OF YOUR JOURNEY. Your consciousness merges with the infinite; business has picked up since you last checked in. I AM CURRENTLY LEADING TWO THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN OF YOU. MOST OF YOU ARE QUIETLY COMING ALONG WITHOUT MAKING A FUSS.

Leading us to where?

The three doors loom before you.

At the thought of reincarnation, the former person smiled and vanished through the first door almost before it was open. You nod to yourself; you’d suspected that might be the result. It usually was.

You were left with a single thought as the older gentleman faded into the living body of a baby about to be born.

I thought you’d have a scythe…