A Survivor's Secret

A

Survivor's

Secret

Stories

By: JK

Chapter 1: The dream

I close my eyes and start drifting away as I wonder about the afterlife. I have the vision that when someone dies, they are perched up on a ledge or a cloud, all alone. You know that saying, "when life flashes before your eyes"? That's what I imagine it being like. You sit there alone, life flashing before your eyes, and you see your entire life through eyes so pure.

I've always dreamed that when someone dies, they are forced to see the truth, at all costs. Some believe they will meet God during their doom's day, and some believe you just die and get buried. There has to be more, there just HAS to be more.

Chapter 2: The Belief

Does it matter if you believe in God? Does it matter if you believe in Heaven or Hell? Is our time on earth pre-determined for us and we just... die? Does prayer do anything? I prayed the world would stop, that they would stop, that she would stop. I prayed as a teenager, I prayed to just have a good day; a day full of love, laughter, and excitement.

I believe that living is the Hell. We all have our own virtual versions Hell. I don't believe it's a place you go when you die, I believe it's a place we are all in. My Hell is not the same as another's hell though and that's because we have all lived different lives.

Heaven? I haven't figured out Heaven yet. If hell is where we are, what is Heaven? Is that the place we go when we die? Is Heaven just us dying all together? Maybe as we get older, we gain clarity and understanding. Maybe as we get older, we gain acceptance for what will be and what happens. Maybe, just maybe, we realize that Heaven and Hell are just fantasies.

Chapter 3: The First Time

Parents' divorce and someone get's the children. The person who takes initial custody should be the person who can take care of the kids best... the person who wants to take care of the kids. But what happens when the wrong parent takes the kids to a different state? This is what happened before the first time.

It's a beautiful evening and even though I was only in the first grade (right before I skipped ahead to second grade) I remember it. There was a darkness and there was something slightly beautiful about it. I had just gotten my own room with a desk, there was a wooden piano in it, and I had a window. I had my own window! It was the first time I had ever had my own room and I was so excited. "Dinner time," she called, "we are having fish!"

I knew I didn't hate fish, but I really don't know if I liked it, at least not at that point. My grandparents always forced us to wash our hands and since that was who we lived with, we had to follow those rules. The next thing I see after washing my hands is my mother- the one that gave birth to me. "Mom!"

The fish comes out and I can already tell that I will not like it. The smell was so strong that it made me queasy. Since my mother was there, we were allowed to sit around the coffee table in the living room and eat dinner together. I eat all the sides, drink my milk and exclaim that I am done. "No you're not," she says- the she being my grandmother. "Yes, I am nana, I don't want no more. I am full." "Eat your fish," She says. "No, I don't like it." She proceeds to make me take a bite of the fish and afterwards, she wouldn't let me up to go to the bathroom. I "had to eat my fish first". I was so young, but I knew this couldn't turn out good. I threw up all over the plate, all over my fish.

Terrified of what could happen next, I start crying. I cried out of fear, I cried because I didn't understand, I just cried. As my mother sat there watching the entire thing, my grandmother proceeded to tell me that I needed to finish my fish. "But there's puke on it. I am not eating it now," I say. "Yes, you are."

They forced fed me fish with vomit all over it.

That was the first time.