Still Dead

Sep. 1st, 2012 05:21 pm
bronzechimera: (Default)
[personal profile] bronzechimera
March 13, 2010 - "Still Dead" (Faye)

Rather than begin the story, I will end it.

I don’t remember the exact date I took my own life, nor do I remember the details of my experience. I want to be able to give this place a name, but in life I was not religious and I do not feel that it is fitting.

Here in death, everything is black. It’s frightening, but calming at the same time. I have a desk with painted, peeling wooden legs and a rickety chair. On the top of the desk I have an ancient brass typewriter – with a delete key! Plus, there is an endless supply of paper.

Most of the time I write about my life. Since I am now blessed with a photographic, superior memory, I describe what it was like to crawl out of my mother’s womb and into the world. I remember the color shirt my father wore when he held me for the first time.

I close my eyes and grip the sides of my chair. Suddenly they’ve become Jason’s hands, which were simultaneously rough and warm. Now I feel the weight of his arms around me, and his nose in my hair. But this feeling is quickly replaced by terrible longing for what does not exist.

I died when I was fifty-seven years old. While my body here is as beautiful as it was when I was seventeen, I am an old woman. I feel even more tired and burdensome than I was when I was young. What a horrible feeling.

Often I wonder where Jason is. I miss him and I want to see him again. Didn’t every religion promise me that I would get to see him again? Oh – that’s right. I wasn’t religious.

Where’s my grandson? I want to see how he would have grown up. Yet I wonder if he’s still a baby. I wonder if his face is still pinched and his skin is milky, translucent; I wonder if he is able to use his lungs.

We’re dead, though, so breathing shouldn’t matter.

I stop breathing.

I’m still dead.
Identity URL: 
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of people who comment anonymously.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

November 2012


Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags