How I died

Drowning isn't as bad as people think. In fact, once you let the water fill up your lungs and envelop your brain, you go into a state of meditation, of absolute tranquility that you want to stay in forever; you do, of course.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Keri and I died on October 17, 2021.

I had decided to skip 4th period that day to get some fresh air and calm my nerves before continuing the the ever monotonous school day schedule that I was forced to use for the next two years until my graduation.

Once the bell had rang, I slipped out the double door entrance and made my way to the old, splintered bridge that I crossed everyday to walk to school; I don't ride the bus. The bridge was in need of serious repair. Chipped, peeling bluish-gray paint flecks floated away on the cool, October breeze. Jagged pieces of wood poked and clung to the flesh if you rested against the support beam that held the bridge firmly in place. Wooden boards riddled with termites creaked and squealed whenever stepped upon.

And then there was the river.

Ah, yes, the cold, rushing river that was never safe to swim in, never safe to even stick your burning toe in,

That damned river.

As it happens, the bridge had been losing a good deal of pegs that held the creaky boards underfoot together. Battered by the elements and crushed underneath the heel of many a student, the boards had become rotten and snapped easily when too much weight sat upon them. But they had under my feet,

Until now.

So there I was, leaning against the guard rail, idly watching the leaves twist a twirl in the breeze, when suddenly a loud groan issued from one of boards underneath. Before I had a chance to scream, the boards gave a loud

SNAP!

And down I fell,

    Without a sound,

Into the murky, surging river that carried me to my doom.

***

Dark, cold, stinging water slapped me in the face burned my skin. Clumps of sucking mud and mulch slid down my screaming throat, filling my lungs, making me hurl, making it impossible to breathe. Rocks dug into my back and sides, leaving bloody, gaping slashes to leak their stench into the air.

I let it win, I let the river kill me. Why, I'm not sure, but it gave me a choice. It said, whispered,

Do you want to live or die?

I know it sounds crazy, but thats what I heard. In my mind. Like telepathy. And I replied right back,

I choose to die.

Don't ask me why; I just don't know.

And then I let the water in.

I let it rush down my throat and up my nose,

I let it fill up my lungs and kill my brain cells,

I let it in.


Then the darkness came too. That darkness that people see when they close their eyes, when they are trapped inside an ever-shrinking room with no escape, when they know that the sword has pierced their heart, but still try to keep their eyes open, their hearts beating,

That Darkness. I let it in.

And then I died.

****


So that's my story. And here I am, sitting in this room, waiting for the unknown, the inevitable. A few other people have come as well. And old women, with a face  that looks like a soggy mop and skin that matches the pile of dirty clothes that lay hidden under my bed. Twins, boy and girl, both of their faces are half-melted, all the hair on their bodies signed off, imprints of seat belts, like a sash the Miss America models wear,  welded to their chests like a badge; The girl has a shrapnel of twisted metal, (I think it was the bumper to an SUV), sticking out of her belly.......I try not to stare. The elevator then slides open and a man in black, his face a shroud, is standing silently there, a clipboard tucked underneath one arm.

"Callie and Michael?" the man whispers  monotonously, ominously; the twins stand and walk toward the elevator. A they enter, the man in black smiles, holds one finger up, and says "Going up?" and then the elevator slides closed, and that was the last I saw of the disfigured duo again.

And the same happens again to the old lady, and a few other torn and broken souls that walk into the waiting room, waiting for judgment, waiting for.....destiny.

And now, it's my turn.

The elevator door slides open with a hum, and inside is the man in black, clipboard under arm. He cocks his finger at me; I stand and enter the elevator.

Standing beside him, a sudden thought flashes into my mind. My religion, the New religion, says that drownage, accidental or not, is a sin, and will surely cost you the salvation of heaven, and all that bull crap; I chuckle at the thought. Foolish me.

A shadow casts over me. I look up and see the man in black, his face nearly inches away my mine, his warm breath washes over my face.

He draws closer, his lips next to my ear and whispers two words, two words that wipe that smug grin of a saved man who has found out that he has been betrayed smile off my face.

"Going down?"

And, with a sickening twist in my stomach, I realized that no matter how you live, or how many times you go to church, or how famous and wealthy you are, that you can never, ever, escape your destiny.

And the elevator door closes, and I feel the space around me begin to sink, and I hear myself scream and claw at the closed door, begging, pleading to let out, to be set free. I did nothing wrong, I was a good girl, you hear me, you slimy bastard?!? I was a good fucking girl!!!!!!!!!!!

And the man in black smiles, turns, and says to me,

"Not in this life, you aren't".

And the elevator door opens, and that's when I truly begin to scream.