The gun shot rang out in the silence of the shop. When you work the graveyard shift in a 24 hour conveiniance store not many interesting things happen and tonight had been particularly slow. So the gun shot had been somewhat suprising, in fact the last customer had ventured through the door for a cheap bottle of vodka at 1 am, 4 hours before the gun shot. The gun shot was the first thing I had heard since then... and the last thing I ever heard.

Philosophers contemplate the nature of time. How is it possible to explain how a Sunday afternoon drags on forever or even the phrase "time flies when your having fun"? Time may fly but not in my case and I'm certainly not having fun although I don't believe that I am currently having any emotions. My senses are dulled to the point where I can't feel nor hear nor smell anything... I may also have lost my site but for all I know I could be in a box six feet under. A dark thought, I know... but one contemplates these things. Another thought crosses my mind as I sit (although sit probably isn't the right verb) is that since when have I used the pronoun "one" or for that matter, since when I have known what a pronoun was?! I only work (worked? will work?) in a convieniance store because I dropped out of college... not usually one for speaking or thinking the Queen's english. Yet here I am, confined within the uneventful prison of my own thoughts. And it is a prison because since the thought of a coffin crossed my mind I feel that I am lying down in a confined space in spite of seeing or feeling nothing and having absolutly no spacial awareness. Panic begins to form on the edge of my conciousness at the thought of being trapped in a box.

Suddenly there is a crash nearby, I don't see it or hear it I just seem to feel it without it the use of my sensory organs and when I say "crash" I don't mean one thing hitting another. In my current state of existance a pindrop would feel like an explosion but all I know is that suddenly whatever space I am existing in is no longer just my own mind, there is someone, something else here. And I no longer feel nothing, I have the sense of standing in a vast area which seems to be nothing but a cold hard floor but it is there and exists. I feel also, that I have just opened my eyes even though I have greeted the same view of utter darkness and it is darkness rather than just the inside of my eyelids.

Turn the light on.

It's not a voice... more a thought sent in my direction. I try to reply but I have a distinct worry that I have no vocal chords.

Sound is an illusion.

Turn the light on.

I turn my thoughts towards creating a reply.

There is no light.

It is weak, feeble, just a whisper but I know the other being feels it and understands it.

Of course not.

Just imagine.

I don't understand what is going on but nevertheless I think of a light... specifically the hideous lamp that sits in the corner of my living room. It's a standing lamp, the stand itself it tall and thin made of chrome and the top is light a giant goofy lightbulb that casts an eery glow every time I switched it on. And then, out of nothing it is there, right in front of me looking like a silver metal stick poking out of the ground had just had an idea straight out of a cartoon. It's eery glow spreads until I'm in the middle of a brightly lit room but a room that goes on forever, I can't make out the outer walls and the ceiling seems non-existant. The whole place is bright white other than the voice. The voice who I can now see.

"It's sad that New Borns always wake up in darkness. It always makes me worry as to what the Human State does to a consiousness." I just blinked bemusedly in reply for the man talking (and he was talking now) looked exactly alike to Morgan Freeman except I don't believe Morgan Freeman has ever had the chance to wear my Uncle's purple flared suit from the seventies. I blinked again and took a moment to realise that I was still in my vile blue uniform from work with my hair in a hastily tied ponytail. A small voice at the back of my mind was saying "of course! you haven't had chance to change!" but I couldn't fathom the meaning of that and so I turned my attention back to Morgan Freeman.

"I know it probably seems strange but New Borns always find it difficult to adjust and so most have to visualise in order to cope. Light is an illusion but it helps to imagine. I presume you are seeing me as a seemingly random person from your time in the Human State. It won't make sense now but I believe it will in time." Morgan Freeman chuckled. "I remember when I got here for the first time. My Guide looked my high school geography teacher sitting in a bath of beans. Looking back it makes perfect sense but at the time I was rather perplexed."

"but what..?!"

"Time for questions later. We must leave your inner concious soon as I don't wish to prolong my presence here." He reached out a hand or I thought that he reached out a hand or possibly he sent the thought of it to me... either way I took it and he led me towards a small discreet door that I hadn't noticed before. He grasped the handle and looked back at me.

Welcome to the Real world.

Labels: afterlife