The first time I died, I was nineteen years old, and resigned to my fate; the second time was a different story. The first time I was leaving a horrible situation. I didn’t care to stay any longer, even though it meant my demise. That was okay.
But then, I found myself in paradise and I never wanted to leave it. I could see the deep blue water from the high point on the island. The palm trees shaded me from the hot sun and let me hear their fronds tickling each other as the winds made them sway coquettishly. A gentle breeze. Just enough to move the air around. There was so much fruit every where. I would never feel the rumblings of my empty stomach on this island.
Every so often I would have a flashback to the life I had left the first time. I fought those flashbacks. I didn’t want to go back there, not even in my memory. That place had been a pure hell filled with evil. No wonder I left it so willingly. But this place. No way did I want to leave it.
The day came for me to die. I tried to find a way to fight it; a way to escape it; a way to cheat death. But because I didn’t know how my death would come, I couldn’t figure out a way to save myself. I was careful in everything I did but I was scared. How would it happen? Would it hurt? Who would do it? What would do it? And exactly when? If I could figure any of those out, If only I could figure out just one of those, I might have a chance.
The first time I died, I welcomed it. I didn’t fight it. Why prolong the agony of the so called life I had? I didn’t deserve to die that time. I didn’t deserve to die the painful death that time. But then, after I died, I was born again, here in this heavenly spot and I led a wonderful life. A happy life. A full life. And now it’s time for me to die again. I don’t know how. I haven’t figured it out yet. I just know it will be soon.
Will I go on to another place? A better place? I think that’s what I deserve. I haven’t hurt anyone here. I’ve been productive. I should be going to a better life, or at least an equally good one. Is that the way it works?
Filled with questions, she was lost in her own world of thoughts. She didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late. She kicked. She reached for something to hang on to. But it was no use. The wave took her away. Even a strong swimmer would have been lost, let alone a weak one like her.
The next time she died, she hoped it would be quick and painless. She hoped she wouldn’t know. Not even for a few seconds.
This post is in response to Mel’s Midweek Menagerie.