Memories of Anamesa

They say that when you die, time slows. Life flashes before your eyes. It's calming. Changing.

It's a lie.

My first death was painful. Unforgettably painful.

Every following death has been many things. Some magnificent. Many fast, unexpected. Others have been slow and humiliating and agonizing. However, one common thread has tied these together - death has remained painful. So, so painful.

You would think that it would grow on you - as funny as that sounds. That by the thousandth; no, by the ten thousandth death, it would be bearable. Unnoticeable, even. But, it's not. Don't let anyone fool you.

Death is not peaceful. 

It's not kind.

Despite that, I keep dying. I can't escape.

So, I guess, I might not be trustworthy. Take my advice as you will.

I warned you.

….

My story started as many things do, with a heart attack.

Standing amidst the New York subway's early morning bustle, I waited for the train. A glance at my watch confirmed my suspicion: "It's running late," I muttered to no one in particular. Pausing to straighten my thick wool jacket, a thought floated through my mind – what if the train had somehow broken down? It was unlikely. However, I could always hope. Perhaps - just perhaps - it would not come today.

But no, perhaps I couldn't even hope. I sighed to myself; ever since I'd been hired, two constants had held true. First: the train's eventual arrival. Second: my exhausted departure from the stock market at 9:00 o'clock sharp.

This lifestyle should have suited me. After all, I've been told I fit the stereotypical broker mold. In other words, I'm boring. Indeed, my friends tease me about my ability to turn relationships into.... well.... non-ships? Yeah, I'm not funny either.

Anyways, these same friends encouraged me to enter finance. They almost convinced me that I could be the James Bond of the stock market. But no, I'm more a James Bond of spreadsheets or something.

Or, honestly, I'm no James Bond. Who am I kidding?

"I need to get away from here," I mumbled to myself once again, my thoughts far from my bleak life and the gloomy tunnels surrounding me.

If only I could travel! I wanted to see Europe! Asia! Africa! I could almost smell the amazing food, see the beautiful sights, feel the warmth of the beach. Ah! If only I could board a plane. Fly away. No. No. I was in this dingy subway, unable to meet new people, to explore. To satiate my curiosity.

If only I could. I wanted to take that risk. To put aside my worries.

But no, every day I came back to this crushing life. I had been a passionate person, a curious one. Now, I was tired. So tired. And for what? I was wasting my life. And one day, I would be trashed. Left to rot in retirement.

I was whittling my life away for others.

As the train's distant rumble brought me back to my grim reality, one where the train, in fact, wasn't broken and was, indeed, going to take me to work, I sighed. "I would do anything for a break."

As if watching over me, God answered my heartfelt prayer. My break had arrived, I suppose. I felt a 'pop' in my chest, then a rush. Then, a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain from my heart.

My knees buckled, I fell, slamming into the subway floor. I couldn't move. It hurt. It hurt so much. Everything was turning white. Everything hurt. My mind was blank - but I could hear it thumping.

Wait, how was my mind thumping? Or maybe it wasn't? No, it was thumping.

But, it didn't make any sense. I was too young. Was I dying?

I couldn't die yet. I had so much to do. I wanted to get married.

To have a wife.

To raise a kid.

To travel.

To live.

Around me, I could hear people screaming. Wait. No. That was me. My voice was raw. It hurt too. I was going to die. I wasn't ready to die. Blood was rushing to my head. It hurt. My vision was fading. I could see people pointing at me. Paramedics rushing down.

No. I wasn't going to die. I was going to survive. I had to survive. I was going to survive. Everything was okay. I was going to wake up. I was going to…

Then, everything faded into blank nothingness. Well, perhaps, I shouldn't say 'nothingness.' The pain. It didn't leave. All that was left was the pain. So much pain. Everywhere.

I had died.

….

When I opened my eyes next, I was no longer on Earth.

It was hard to describe how I knew, but I knew. It was an instinct - I could feel it from the tips of my toes to the lifted hairs on my arm. Ah, but the pain! It was there; I could taste it.

My body hurt everywhere - from my throbbing heart to my burning fingertips. The pain was still here ...but it wasn't? I was whole again.

Wait... I was dead. Why was I able to think? Was I in heaven? My mind spun, dulled by the pain of death.

Then, before I could begin to process what was happening, to consider what had happened, to process what I was seeing, I took a step forward. My first step towards a better life. A happier life. A new world. Heaven.

And I tripped.

Damn it.

I fell backward, onto stairs. Why were there stairs?

Then, I was rolling.

Everything was bloody; I couldn't think. I couldn't see. My head burned.

But, I could feel myself falling.

....falling for an eternity.

As my consciousness faded, I knew I was going to die.

Feeling the pain grow, dark nothingness embraced me.

And when I opened my eyes again, I had just died - in the stupidest way possible - for the second time that day.

….

My soul throbbed. 

"I'm not going to die a third time."

Somehow, putting it out into the world made me feel a bit - just a bit - better.

I slowly, carefully opened my eyes. As the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus, a dimly lit space expanded before me as a chill settled into my bones. The air had a strange clarity to it, a dreamlike quality, almost whispering of life beyond death.

Looking around, I noticed pristine, white marble stairs beneath me. It was white. Pure, radiant, glimmering, unblemished, shining white. Ah, but there was a red blood stain. I winced. This was where I had fallen. Around me extended the void.

"Woah."

This world was breathtaking; it was unlike anything I had seen before. 

Within the dark misty expanse stood towering, colorful archways.

They were magnificent; some made of dark, towering stone, others of gold and luxury. On the arches, words seemed to shimmer and shift, as if they held secrets that only the dead could decipher.

"Huh, I wonder what they are," I mused aloud.

I paused.

Something was wrong.

I glanced frantically around, my eyes wide with terror. Shadows were moving and vanishing into the arches!

…wait. Wait! They were all around me! 

I was going to die again.

No! I couldn't die again. I could feel it. Shadows moving in, closing in. Screaming, I closed my eyes. Prepared for the worst.

….but death never came. Adrenaline surged, calming me. My mind returned to its natural stockbroker mode – panicked, yet hyper-focused as if I had just lost millions.

I paused. Did a double take.

The shadows seemed to be moving towards the arches - not me. They hardly seemed to notice me.

In the distance, I could see them disappear.

Fair enough, I suppose. "As long as you don't touch me, I won't touch you," I mumbled to myself as I eyeballed the shadows passing by me. And so, I prepared to take my next step.