Post by leviathan on Jul 27, 2006 8:43:42 GMT -5
This is the second of the two stories I am posting. Again I want your opinions.
THE OTHER SIDE
Sometimes I ask questions. I ask why I am here? How did I get here? I am not here, as you are.
I am somewhere else.
It was a dark night. I was walking home. It was raining. It was the rain that is light, but over time soaks through your clothes. It gets you wet. It must have been late, or early depending on which day I was in. I was wasted. Not that far gone, but drunk. I pressed the button on the traffic lights, waited for the light and crossed. I almost made it home. Until, out of nowhere, a car hit my side. I did not even hear him.
I think it was a him.
And now I walk in another world. I am in the other world. This world is similar to the one before. I cannot see other people. I cannot talk to them. I only see ghosts. I say ghosts as if they are unfamiliar, almost alien. To me, they are common. I see one sitting on my bed, looking at me with sombre eyes. I see them walking the streets, a distance between them. Single file, on the pavement. I see them standing in the middle of the road, facing my direction. They walk slowly. There is all the time in this world. Why rush, when you have forever. Why rush, when you are dead.
The night is a nightmare.
Nothing is coming, for any of us. I always thought I would ascend to another plane. I thought I would be going to heaven. I thought for a while, someone would save me. That was why we lived, for an afterlife. I thought they were fiction. And yet here I am, seeing them. Living with them. I sit here, in my own room, behind the police tape, thinking of death. I am in my house, yet my parents are not here. Not yet. The chilling realisation is that there is no other place. We die, and remain here, on the other side. There is nothing more. This is the be all and end all.
I remember the first night I came here. The car braked when it hit me, and I flew to the side, and fell to the floor. I closed my eyes, and opened them. Closed them again, and felt the concrete on the side of my face. I opened them knowing that if they were to shut again, that would be the last I would see of this life. I knew it then. When I awoke the car was still there. The door, where the man had leapt out to see what he had done, was still open. It was still night. The wind was still howling. Only, everyone was gone.
I walked home, just as I had planned. I thought I was alive. I turned the corner and the damp road lay ahead. I walked, and noticed that I could not hear my footsteps. I thought my hearing had gone. I stepped on to the pavement, and saw my reflection in the window of a car. I expected to look hurt. I looked the same. As if nothing had happened. There was only one change, as I lifted my hand to my face. I was pale. I was scared. I turned, sharply, and ran the road home. It was then, that I saw the old man.
He said only four words.
I look out of my window, and there they are. I feel no fear. I see a girl. She is holding a teddy bear. She walks, barefoot, with a long white gown reaching her ankles. Her hair is a washed out blonde. She looks down, to the ground. And she walks, the same road, on and on, as if she is lost. I walk out in to the road, and face her. Sometimes I stand in her path. She looks up, and holds her eyes to mine, they fill with tears, and she passes me. I wondered how she died. I knew after facing her. On her mouth, there is a red mark, where a hand must have been pressed.
That angers me.
And so I walk in this ghost world, hearing nothing but the wind. I cannot speak. Our voices have gone. And I look around. And they are everywhere. I am afraid. I fear for my life. I have been misplaced. I am a mistake. I am in the wrong world. I am not dead. I am alive. Get me out of here. Someone help me.
No-one can. Only one has tried. He spoke to me. It was the old man. His four words are the only I have heard.
They send no-one back.
THE OTHER SIDE
Sometimes I ask questions. I ask why I am here? How did I get here? I am not here, as you are.
I am somewhere else.
It was a dark night. I was walking home. It was raining. It was the rain that is light, but over time soaks through your clothes. It gets you wet. It must have been late, or early depending on which day I was in. I was wasted. Not that far gone, but drunk. I pressed the button on the traffic lights, waited for the light and crossed. I almost made it home. Until, out of nowhere, a car hit my side. I did not even hear him.
I think it was a him.
And now I walk in another world. I am in the other world. This world is similar to the one before. I cannot see other people. I cannot talk to them. I only see ghosts. I say ghosts as if they are unfamiliar, almost alien. To me, they are common. I see one sitting on my bed, looking at me with sombre eyes. I see them walking the streets, a distance between them. Single file, on the pavement. I see them standing in the middle of the road, facing my direction. They walk slowly. There is all the time in this world. Why rush, when you have forever. Why rush, when you are dead.
The night is a nightmare.
Nothing is coming, for any of us. I always thought I would ascend to another plane. I thought I would be going to heaven. I thought for a while, someone would save me. That was why we lived, for an afterlife. I thought they were fiction. And yet here I am, seeing them. Living with them. I sit here, in my own room, behind the police tape, thinking of death. I am in my house, yet my parents are not here. Not yet. The chilling realisation is that there is no other place. We die, and remain here, on the other side. There is nothing more. This is the be all and end all.
I remember the first night I came here. The car braked when it hit me, and I flew to the side, and fell to the floor. I closed my eyes, and opened them. Closed them again, and felt the concrete on the side of my face. I opened them knowing that if they were to shut again, that would be the last I would see of this life. I knew it then. When I awoke the car was still there. The door, where the man had leapt out to see what he had done, was still open. It was still night. The wind was still howling. Only, everyone was gone.
I walked home, just as I had planned. I thought I was alive. I turned the corner and the damp road lay ahead. I walked, and noticed that I could not hear my footsteps. I thought my hearing had gone. I stepped on to the pavement, and saw my reflection in the window of a car. I expected to look hurt. I looked the same. As if nothing had happened. There was only one change, as I lifted my hand to my face. I was pale. I was scared. I turned, sharply, and ran the road home. It was then, that I saw the old man.
He said only four words.
I look out of my window, and there they are. I feel no fear. I see a girl. She is holding a teddy bear. She walks, barefoot, with a long white gown reaching her ankles. Her hair is a washed out blonde. She looks down, to the ground. And she walks, the same road, on and on, as if she is lost. I walk out in to the road, and face her. Sometimes I stand in her path. She looks up, and holds her eyes to mine, they fill with tears, and she passes me. I wondered how she died. I knew after facing her. On her mouth, there is a red mark, where a hand must have been pressed.
That angers me.
And so I walk in this ghost world, hearing nothing but the wind. I cannot speak. Our voices have gone. And I look around. And they are everywhere. I am afraid. I fear for my life. I have been misplaced. I am a mistake. I am in the wrong world. I am not dead. I am alive. Get me out of here. Someone help me.
No-one can. Only one has tried. He spoke to me. It was the old man. His four words are the only I have heard.
They send no-one back.