I died.
Everything, no matter where I look, is so bright. Unlike that final moment when darkness slowly crept across my vision until all I saw was darkness. At that moment, I realized I’m finally dead. I didn’t think I’d wake up once more, but here I am, standing in the middle of nowhere.
“Come forward,” called a voice.
I look down and see my own two bared feet. I raise my arms and see my red-streaked wrists. I examine my blood-splattered dress and realize there’ll be no changing them. I take a step forward—not caring where ‘forward’ may lead—and follow the voice.
“Stop.”
I obey.
“What is your name?”
I look around and see no one besides myself. Where the voice is coming from? That I do not know. If I could still speak—that I am not aware—but is still worth a try so I clear my throat.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“The gates,” reply the voice.
“The gates to where?”
“To peace.”
To peace? My eyes flicker to my slashed wrists. “I’m not sure I deserve peace,” I hear myself say. Continue reading
