Chapter One, part 2

This is the second half of Chapter One. If you haven't, please read the Prologue and the first half before you go on. Thanks!

I stood still for several long moments. I tried to convince myself that it had been a hallucination, perhaps brought on by toner-mixed-with-soap fumes, but in the deepest part of my soul, I knew it was not. Nothing had ever been so real in my life. Beside the sure knowledge I had indeed seen and heard what I just saw and heard, something else lay in my soul. Fear. Cold, hard, abject terror. We will meet again. The words echoed through me, and as terrifying as they were, they kept the bigger fear at bay - are you ready for your life to end?

Butchy had the computer fixed. How had I gotten back to my desk? Oh, I sort of remembered walking. He apologized; I nodded. The reports were printing out. People were waiting for their reports. I got back to work.

I went home. Took off my shoes, and headed up the stairs to change into sweats. As I pulled the sweatshirt over my head, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

Death was behind me. Again.

It hung before me moving and remaining exactly in place.

“You’re Death?” I repeated, for what had to be the tenth time. I began to formulate my arguments, almost hoping that I could free myself of this horror with logic and debate. “But how can you be Death? Death isn’t a person or a being or whatever, it’s a state. You can’t be Death. You can be dead, but not death. Just like you can be sleeping, but you can’t be Sleep.” I felt better, making my case. Somehow it brought measure of normalcy to the moment. Arguing, I am in my element.

It shimmered, almost happily. “How little you know, mortal. There is Sleep. And Love, and Faith and Hope. There is Joy and Pain and Sickness, Imagination, Pestilence, Fear, Cold, Calm, and many more.”

“So, what you’re all like some gang of magical beings? Just hanging around watching over your own domain? What if someone is supposed to be dying, right now? And here you are, floating in my bedroom, trying to scare me? Yeah, that makes sense.”

“FOOLISH MORTAL!” The words echoed around and through me. Never had the meaning of “mortal” been so real. “Cease this prattle. I am not here to scare you like some child’s ghost tale. I am here for your benefit, that you may choose to end this life.” I shook, dreading what would happen. My bravado now gone, I sank to the floor, and found tears on my cheeks.

“Please, I’m sorry. I don’t want to die”. I blubbered, hating the pathetic sound of my begging for a life I had been cursing for months. I could feel energy ebbing from me; somehow I knew Death was absorbing me and once I was drained I would be dead. Then, the energy pull slowed and stopped. Death shimmered in a way I could only say was by some means comforting, though I will never be able to say how.

“You misunderstand, child.” It said, beginning to change form. Before me stood a man, tall and strong looking, with a bit of a glow. When I looked at his eyes, I saw the constantly changing indescribable colors of the being that had been in his place. “Is this form more soothing?” He asked, in a voice I could truly hear, though somehow it still echoed though me as the being’s thoughts had. “I find humans to be more at ease with other humans, and, if you like, I can even assume the form of a loved one.” A thought of my beloved grandfather, my mother’s father who had passed away years before flitted though my head, and then he stood before me.

“Papa!” I called out my name for him, knowing what I saw was only his form, but unable to restrain my voice. “How did you know?” I asked him. In Papa’s voice the being answered, “You were thinking of him. You loved and trusted him.”
My fear momentarily forgotten I asked, “You can do that? Just go into my head and see what I am thinking?”

“I am Death.” That seemed to cover it. He went on to explain. “When dealing with mortals, I have found it is frequently easier to take an image from their minds than to let them see my form. You are one of few who has.” Despite the inherent bizarreness of the situation, I found myself flattered. It sounded like an honor.

“I, I think I would prefer your other form.” Papa standing there, this many years after his death was just too disconcerting. Not really him, but so much him, it hurt my heart.

He reverted to the amorphous, semi-transparent manifestation. “I am here not to bring you harm, but to offer you a choice. The choice”, he said, “is so easily explained, so hard to comprehend. Is this life worth saving, the life composed of the choices you have made, and perhaps a few made for you? I am offering you the chance to follow one or more of the paths not taken. The only problem is, it is a one-way road. Once the choice is made, it cannot be unmade. If you give up this life-path, then it is gone, and you cannot come back. You will die in this line of reality – but you have the opportunity to find something more.”

I stared, not able to grasp the meaning of this offer. I could die and be something else? Like reincarnation? I wasn’t that attached to much in this life, my one good friend, my dad. Who else would miss me, who else would care? Would anyone even notice until their reports weren’t there? Or even then? But dying? I don’t know about that.

Dying’s a scary prospect and never more real than when you face it - Death literally in the room.

“I . .. I don’t think I understand.” True, but also a stall for time. “You mean, come back as a baby and start all over? I don’t think I want to live through high school again – once was bad enough.” Death shimmered and changed colors, a little pinker on the edges, which I took to be a sort of chuckle; even Death knows how bad high school can be.

“No, in fact, you will not lose a day – not even a moment. You will not even lose your memory of this life, unless you choose for me to erase it. Each person makes millions of decisions in a lifetime. Each decision moves you to a new life-path, and the old one is forever gone. Some choices create many paths, and they can lead you in unexpected directions. You will die in this life and arrive at the same age, to the minute, in a life-path you lost when you made one decision. The longer you stay in that life-path, the more of those memories you will gain and the more they will feel real. You may even be able to figure out which decision you made differently. But no one else will have any memory of any other life, only you. And you can stay in that life-path as long as you like. If you dislike it, you can die again and start the process all over. You can sample as many of your own life-paths as you like, though remember, you cannot go back once you have left it. You are being offered a chance few mortals ever dream of. It is not even a hard choice. It is simply this – is this life worth living?”
The words rolled over and through me, almost too much to take in. A chance at another life that was still mine? To still be me, but to choose another, almost certainly better life? I looked at (and through) Death, wondering if I’d somehow created an elaborate hallucination to escape the drudgery my life had become. I was almost ready to jump in, hallucination or not, I still had one more question.
“Will it hurt, when I die?”

Death was silent for a long moment, and I could feel his scrutiny of me as clearly as I could see his form floating.

“That is the only concern you have, mortal?” The question sounded cold, somehow almost sarcastic.

“Well, no, I mean, I have lots of questions, that is just the first one.” I thought furiously, hoping my lie was not too evident. What else did he expect me to ask? The pain of dying seemed like the biggest deal I could think of. And then another thought began to percolate in my almost overwhelmed mind. “My dad, what about my dad?”

“What about him?” He asked, almost derisively. “I thought you wanted to know if it would hurt you.”

“I want to know what will happen to my father? Will he think I am dead?”

“Well, since you will be dead, in this reality, yes. He will think it, and be right.”

“But he’ll be crushed!” The picture of Dad, sitting alone at the table on a Monday, our usual night for dinner together, tore at my heart. If I die, he’ll have lost both mom and me. Of course, he’ll still have her and the children he had with her.

The moment stretched out an eternity while I thought of Dad. Dad, who had always been there for me, trying to be both parents to a small girl. He’d never had sisters, or any close female friends, and yet he had played Barbie and dress up and tea party with me when I was little. He’d been a PTO volunteer even though most of the others were women. He had taken me to get my nails and hair done before prom since I didn’t want her to take me and even managed to stammer his way through the “sex talk” when I was 11. And yet he had always told me that he wanted what was best for me. That he wanted me to have whatever I dreamed. And now, I could dream of another life. And I will have a chance most people don’t – to say goodbye, knowing it will be the last time. I won’t have to leave all the things unsaid like so many people do. I can say it all, wrap up all the loose ends.

I realized I’d been standing silent, staring for what must have been a very long time. I still hadn’t decided whether or not Death could actually read my mind, but I’d made my choice. This life sucked and I was ready to try again, even at the expense of my father’s feelings. He would want me to, I was sure. Dad would want me to have a better life.

“What do I have to do?” It almost sounded like a statement when I said it.

“You have decided?”

“Yes, I want a new life.”

“Life-path.”

“Right. I want a new life-path.”

“It will begin soon. Go about your business.” And Death was gone.

“Um, hello? Death?” I asked the air. No response. “Go about my business? I don’t get it. Don’t you have to do something? Schedule a time to kill me or something?” Ugh, that doesn’t sound good. “I mean, do a spell?” Still nothing.

Maybe I had just conjured the whole thing up in my head. Maybe I was asleep having an elaborate dream. “WAKE UP!!” I yelled, just to see if that would work. It would have in the movies. But nothing changed. I shrugged and went to the kitchen, “going about my business” as instructed.
* * *
After dinner, a couple of good stiff drinks and a large bowl of ice cream, the whole day seemed less plausible. Surely I had just had some sort of breakdown under the stress of my awful job. I should take a few days off, I thought, maybe I’ll just call off tomorrow, take a mental health day. I got up to get more ice cream, but the carton was empty, sitting on the counter where I’d left it when I got the last bowl. Oh yeah, ran out. I decided I needed more and went to get my shoes and keys.

When I bent over to tie my shoes, I wobbled and almost fell over. Too much to drink? Nah, just getting old. Only had a couple. Chuckling at my clumsiness, I grabbed the keys and my purse and headed out to the car.
At the end of my block, there’s a stop sign. I ran it. I know it’s there; I usually stop, but I was really intent on the ice cream. I was trying to decide what flavor I was going to get when I realized there was a car turning towards me. I swerved, going a little too fast, and as I started to sail from my seat, my last thought was “Hunh, I usually put my seatbelt on.” And then my head collided with the windshield and the world became dark, except my brief glimpse of Death.
And then I was sitting at a vanity, brushing my long, bleached-blonde hair.

Wait, what?