Futurism logo

The End

A short story about the afterlife.

By Kelly RosePublished 5 years ago 17 min read
Like

Contrary to popular belief, there isn’t anything interesting in the afterlife. In fact, there really isn’t anything at all. It’s an empty, pitch-black pit. You’re floating, drifting, forever and ever in this void. You’re nothing more than a tiny speck in this infinite expanse. The darkness is your home now, and you learn to embrace it.

I’ve been here for what feels like a couple days, and it hasn’t been so bad. It’s a little bit nicer than being alive. Life tends to be so boring, so monotonous. Towards the end of my existence, every day felt the same as the day before. Wake up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to sleep. I was so sick of it all. I wanted a change. I was so trapped. I felt like I was locked in a sealed metal box that was sinking in the ocean. As I reached the bottom, the sunlight drifted farther and farther away. I could feel fish hitting the sides of my box, jostling me around. Once I ended up on the ocean floor, there was pure, beautiful silence. The only sound I could hear was my breathing. There I was, crouched in my box, with nothing but darkness surrounding me.

As I traveled to and from work, a nearby ad agency, my mind-box kept me safe. I would start my morning commute by walking to the subway. All I had to do was drift along and avoid eye contact with everyone. On the train, I made sure to keep my head down and my earbuds in. The train was always packed, and it was terrible standing around so many people. One time, a man with the most putrid breath I ever smelled stood right behind me. I couldn’t eat for the rest of the day because I felt so sick. Stepping off the train was sometimes a little difficult, especially if a big crowd has already formed on the platform, like sardines in a tin can. I hated crowds. I had to hold my breath and clench my fists as I maneuvered my way around all those sweaty bodies. I hated when I would accidentally make eye contact with someone. It felt like my mind-box was getting slammed by a giant fish, like a shark. An octopus would then pull my box down lower. Meeting the eyes of a stranger was like being under attack. I had to look away, otherwise my box could become dented beyond repair. Exiting the subway was a relief, and now I only had five minutes left until I was at work. Once I stepped into the revolving glass doors and sat down in my cubicle, I felt safe. My cubicle was in a corner, so I sat facing away from my coworkers. I could sit there all day with my earbuds in. It was like my own little fishbowl.

When I was alive, every day was a bad day. Some days were just worse than others. My therapist liked to call these days “temporary inconveniences” (she was wrong). She also told me that I should call my mom more.

My mom. The last time I spoke to her had to have been a week ago, maybe two. I know that sounds terrible, but since I had moved into the city about two months ago, I barely had the energy to talk to her. I thought that working at an ad agency would be the perfect segue into something bigger, and yet the office experience was draining and miserable. I didn’t want to tell her how much I had been failing, that the agency hadn’t reviewed my artwork yet, because I didn’t have an updated portfolio. Whenever I would call her, she would always ask how my prints were coming along, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I hadn’t even unpacked my supplies out of their dusty boxes in the corner of my closet. I didn’t want her to worry about me. I didn’t want to feel like a burden.

On my last day of living, I had been demoted at work. One of my coworkers caught me sleeping on the job, and then told my boss. This had happened multiple times, but it was hard for me to avoid it. I had trouble sleeping at night, so I would always come into work tired. I sometimes needed a nap. I suppose my coworker had had enough, however. My boss then came over to my desk, and told me that I would now be working in another department: the mail room. The more “inexperienced” employees worked there. I stared at my boss as she explained this to me, and I could feel myself slipping away. Her lips continued to move, but no sound came out. My box was suffocating me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get out of there.

I remember standing up so fast that my clunky office chair fell to the ground. I ran into the bathroom, leaving my boss behind. I puked for several minutes, stopping only to catch my breath and lean against the wall of the bathroom stall. By the end of it, my breathing was so ragged that my boss asked if I needed to go to the hospital. I told her that I was fine, that this is something that’s happened before, that I could handle it. I remember her placing her hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eyes. She gave me that look that some people give when they see a puppy with three legs. Or a person with a cast on their arm. I had been given this look many, many times before. I hated it. She told me that once I gathered my things and brought them to my new desk a couple floors down, I could have the rest of the day off. She waited for me to respond, but I stared at her. In my mind-box, I was sitting in a corner, facing the wall. My boss gave me a look of concern, but said nothing and walked away.

I finished setting up my new desk downstairs. The mail room had no windows, so the entire room was lit up by these ugly florescent lights. It was only one in the afternoon, and I had no idea what to do for the rest of the day. I hadn’t had an afternoon to myself in a long time. Maybe I would pick up my sketchbook again. I thought it would’ve been nice to sit out on my balcony and sketch the sunset. I could have a glass of red wine and order a pepperoni pizza. I felt… excited. I was actually looking forward to something. As I spent my last few moments alive, I remember speed walking out of the revolving doors. I waited to cross the street, tapping my foot and checking my watch. The subway station was right there. I saw the red hand change to the walking man, and as I stepped off the curb, onto the white lines of the crosswalk, the sun shining high above and the chatter of people all around me, then came the darkness.

I can’t help but feel like I had so many things to experience, so many memories to make.

There’s no use dwelling on that now, though. Life happens. You live, you experience, you die. You never know when you’re going to die, so why worry about it? It’s not like you can cheat death or anything. Life isn’t like a video game where you have a certain number of lives before you have to start the level over again. You only have one shot. That’s it.

As I continue to float along in the endless abyss, the inky black envelops me like a warm hug. I have never felt so safe, so secure. My mind is so at peace. No longer am I tormented by my inner self, trapped in that box, begging to be set free. No longer am I forced to interact with others—curse the human for being a social animal. No longer do I have to pretend like everything is all sunshine and rainbows. None of that matters anymore. None of that even exists. All I have to do now is just… be. I don’t even have to walk or move around in any way. The darkness carries me along. It’s like I’m floating above the ocean. I can see my mind-box deep below. It’s empty. The fish have taken over, and have turned it into a little hideaway. The box will soon rust and become covered in algae and seaweed. It won’t even look like a box anymore. It will be a little ecosystem for the fish family. I hope they enjoy their new home.

I return to the surface, content with the realization that this void is my permanent home now. This place is now my kingdom, and I am its queen. I have no one to tell me what to do or what to say. My boss isn’t here to watch my every move. In fact, work doesn’t exist, because there is nothing to spend money on. Schedules and routines don’t exist here either, of course. It’s all so simple. I feel so free, so light and airy. There’s no one but me, myself, and—

I am not alone.

There is someone else here. I can see them some feet away. I am floating towards them. How do I turn around? I can’t. I can’t even move my arms and legs. There’s nothing I can do. I’m heading straight toward them. They’re facing the other way, so they can’t see me, but I am going to bump right into them.

What will happen then? Will they try to hurt me? Can they move, or are they also immobile? Is it even possible to die in the afterlife? Is your entire existence capable of being erased? I don’t want to find out. I shut my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable impact. I am a couple feet away now. Inches. Centimeters.

We’ve collided.

The person turns around, and I am face to face with—

Me.

Am I looking in the mirror? I try to reach my hand out, but I am still stuck. My reflection stares at me. Motionless. Her eyes look like my mine, but they are missing a certain quality, that sort of glimmer, which indicates life. She still has my blonde hair, my big, oversized glasses, the same freckles that cover my nose.

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound escapes. To my horror, the girl in front of me doesn’t try to open her mouth either.

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize that she is not a reflection.

She lifts her hand up. She makes some sort of motion with her fingers, and I feel a strange release in my throat.

“Speak,” she says.

I concentrate on her command. I haven’t spoken in a while, and it feels as if my throat is coated in dust.

“Hello,” I say. My voice is crackled like TV static.

I need to get out of here.

She analyzes my face. She knows that I’m scared.

After an agonizing moment of silence, she says, “Follow me.”

She then continues onward into the darkness, and I trail along behind her. I think about what would happen if I turned around and went the other way.

“Please don’t leave,” she says. “I have something important to show you.”

Cool, so she can read my thoughts. I feel the familiar, crushing feeling. Like the weight of the world is collapsing down on me. I thought being in the afterlife meant that I wouldn’t have these feelings any longer.

“It will pass,” she says, “You will know why I am here soon enough.”

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” I say.

She stops. I pause and hold my breath. I shouldn’t have said that. Have I made her mad?

She turns around and looks at me. “I’m not mad. I am here to help you,” she says as she reaches out her hand, “I am your friend.”

I feel a familiar release in my right arm, and then my arm is outstretched. She grasps my hand, and looks into my eyes. As I am still unable to move my head, I cannot look away. A small part of me doesn’t want to.

“Do you know how weird this is for me?” I say, “To hold hands with yourself?”

She furrows her brow, thinking hard about my question. “Yes,” she says, “But I have been waiting so long to do this.”

“What does that—”

“Please don’t ask any more questions. We have to keep going.”

She turns around and continues on her path, and I float along with her. I close my eyes and wait.

After what feels like a few minutes after our conversation, she tells me that we have arrived. I open my eyes, and I am dumbfounded at what I see. We are surrounded by white. The dark is nowhere to be seen, and there is nothing but her and me in the middle of this expanse.

“What happened?” I say, “Where did everything go?”

“It’s all still here,” she says, “I have temporarily removed it for our purposes.”

“What purposes?”

She looks me in the eyes again. “Are you ready to see?”

I look around at my surroundings. I cannot see the darkness anywhere, not even in the far distance. There is nothing but pure white, so white that it’s glowing.

“What will happen if I say yes?” I say.

“You will see,” she says.

I take a deep breath, taking one last look at everything around me. I hope I will return to the dark soon.

“Yes.”

In an instant, the white disappears. For a moment, there is nothing. I can no longer see her or my own body. Then, colors appear all around me. Flashes of blue, green, and yellow. These colors then start to change shape and sizes, until some sort of scene forms around me. It is almost like I have stepped into a movie or painting. I gaze around in wonder, and as my surroundings start to come into focus, I realize that she has returned.

“Isn’t it magical?” she says.

“I feel as if I’m in a dream,” I say. “How are you doing this? Why are you doing this?”

“Please be patient. You will understand.”

The scene is almost in focus, and I am eager to see where she has transported us. Everything looks like how the world used to look when I had my glasses off. I was always envious of those who had perfect vision.

The place is now in focus, and I realize where we are. She and I are in a living room. The living room of the house I grew up in.

I lived here my entire life, even when I was in college. My mom was devastated when I moved out. I was an only child, and my father died before I was born, so I was all she had. The living room still looks the same, except that my art supplies are missing from their usual spot. I hope my mom put them somewhere safe after she found out what happened to me. I want to cry.

“Why did you bring me here?” I say. “What was the point?”

“Stop talking and look,” she says.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see someone entering the living room from the kitchen. I turn to see who it could be, and I am then face to face with my mother. My beautiful, amazing mother. She is holding a cup of tea in one hand, and some sort of book in the other. She looks so exhausted, and her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed.

“Mom…” I say as I reach my hand out to her. My hand passes through, as if I touched a hologram.

“She can’t hear or see you,” the girl says.

I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. “Is there anything that I can do?”

My mom sits down on the couch and opens up the book. She takes a sip of her tea and sets it down on the coffee table.

“You can sit next to her,” the girl says, “You’re able to move now.”

I walk over to the couch. My mother is curled up with the book on her lap. I sit next to her and see that it’s an album full of my baby pictures.

“Oh, Mom…” I say. I wish I could hug her. I wish I had been able to say goodbye.

My mom looks at all the pictures on each page for a long time, and then turns to the next page. I see a photo of me on my first birthday, covered head to toe in chocolate cake and pink frosting. The next photo is of my mom and I at the beach, and we are both wearing big, floppy sun hats. Then there’s me on my first day of school, wearing a backpack two times my size. I feel an empty pit in my stomach.

“How long have I been gone for?” I say to the girl.

“About three months,” she says.

My head whips up to look at her. “Three months?” I say, “But it feels like I’ve only been here for a day or two.”

“Time is different in this existence,” she says, “You will get used to it soon enough.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” I say, staring at my mother again. “I want to go home.”

The girl shakes her head. “You can’t. I’m sorry.”

“But there has to be some other way!” I say, “My poor mother is all alone now. I was the only thing she had.”

I stand up and look at the girl in her eyes. I can’t remember the last time I made direct eye contact.

“Please, there has to be something.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, “But there really is nothing I can do.”

I hear quiet sobs coming from behind me, and I turn around to see my mother with her face buried in her hands. The photo album is closed and put to the side. I rush back to her, and try to wrap my arms around her. I try to rest my head on her shoulder, but it ends up resting on the couch.

“Mom,” I say, “I’m here. It’s going to be all right.”

Her sobs become louder, and I almost can’t take it.

“I know it hurts right now, but trust me, this pain will pass,” I take a deep breath, “I’m sorry I never told you how much I was hurting. I always lied to you about how I was feeling.”

I lift my head up from the couch and look at her. She grabs a box of tissues from the couch and wipes off her face, but she is still crying.

“I never wanted you to worry,” I say, “I wanted you to focus on your own life.”

Her sobs quiet down. She grabs another tissue and blows her nose.

“I should have been more honest with you. I should have called you more.”

My mom sniffles and places the box of tissues back on the coffee table.

“I’m sorry. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would.”

She takes another sip of her tea.

“I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t said that in so long. But I truly love you.”

My mom looks straight ahead, away from my eye contact.

I turn away and start to get up from the couch, but something grabs my arm. I look and see my mother staring at me. Her hand is gripping my wrist.

“Mom,” I say, “How can you—”

“I will always love you more,” she says.

With that, everything around me disappears. I am left standing in the white expanse with the girl. For a moment, we do nothing but stare at each other.

“How did you do that?” I ask. “How did you make her see me?”

“Because you finally understood,” she says.

“Understood what?”

She continues to look at me, and then does something surprising. Her expressionless face forms into a smile. She walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. We hug for a long, long time. She then let’s go, still smiling.

“You’ve realized what you’re worth.”

She vanishes.

I look all around me, but she is gone. I feel light, and I realize that I am floating along again. The endless white, glowing abyss welcomes me with open arms. I have never felt so happy, so content. My heart is warm. The warmth spreads throughout my body. I am bright and shining.

fantasy
Like

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.