Relevant Thoughts on Death

I wasn't surprised when a man in a hooded cloak, carrying a scythe, walked through my bathroom door. I take that back. I was very surprised that the reality of death was so horrendously cliched. "You've got to be shitting me." But there he was, the Grim Reaper, his skeletal hand outstretched and beckoning towards me. What I was trying to say is that I wasn't surprised that I was dying. It kinda happens when you pour a container of salt into the tub and take the toaster for a bath.
I wait. I don't want to get out of the tub. I wanted to die in luxury, so I decided I would electrocute myself in a bubble bath. That'll be nice and fun for the coroner. I have...carefully positioned the bubbles, now, and I'm not wanting to give Death a free show. I wonder if Death carries money. Or a wallet. I wonder what his driver's license would look like.
"Do you carry a wallet?"
There is nothing but silence.
"I figured as much," again, there is only silence as he continues to beckon. Then I begin to wonder if the Grim Reaper is a he; maybe it's a she? That thought makes me all the more uncomfortable. I can't be naked in front of a woman, not without an erection. I'll look pathetic. I can't help but laugh at myself. I'm concerned as to whether or not Death will think I am hot. Either way, of all the people I want to see me naked, I think Death is gonna come in pretty damn low.
"Could you, like, turn around while I grab a towel?"
Death simply continues to beckon at me.
"Pervert," I say as I climb out of the tub.

Death remains silent, though certainly not passive. As I stand there, naked, grabbing a towel, I console myself with the thought that death didn't seem to have ears. Or, at the very least, didn't seem to respond to anything it heard. Following that reasoning, I decided that death also could not see. At least, maybe not the way we do. Maybe I was just a blob of a soul that had to be taken in.

Wait. Maybe death sees naked people all the time? This too made me mildly self-conscious. Even if death didn't care what I looked like, what if I still wasn't one of the better looking dead people that she (he?) has seen.

"So, do you see naked people a lot?" I tried again. No response, though I certainly wasn't expecting one at this point.

I finish drying and begin putting my clothes back on with death still standing there, pointing. He looked about as impatient as a silent, faceless, and near-motionless thing could look though that probably means it's my imagination.

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It took a few minutes for me to find my shoes. I tried to get a rise out Death during this time.

I walked out of the bathroom and it followed me. I thought that the bones of his feet would make some sort of clacking noise on the hardwood floor as he walked, but no.

"You know, you should eat more. Anorexia is a real disease."

"Did that electricity fry your brain or something?"

I spun around to look at Death and all I saw was a blank skull. The voice had been unlike anything I had ever heard before. If grinding two rocks together could make words, that's what the voice would have sounded like.

This was probably the reason for his silence thus far. Clearly, either it was uncomfortable to speak or simply embarrassing to do so.

In any case, in whichever case I had imagined the sound of Death, I never imagined it to be so gritty. They always speak of a grizzly end, but a gritty one? Well either way, there he was, and I wondered whether my ill-thought-out suicide (you know the one involving nudity) would be my only embarrassment of the journey or whether death would have to beckon me down the path that lead to the nudity to make peace with the reasons for our trip.

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     Death opened the door and stared toward the horizon at the rising sun. Then it turned and reaching with its long bony hand on the hinge of its wrist, gestured with a gaunt finger for me to follow. It was then that a pang of regret bit through me. I looked back down tha hall at the bathroom, and through the open door  I saw the long cord of the toaster that had since sunk deep into the water, like I was sinking now in remorse. But, it was far to late now to go back. I turned and moved across the room to the door to join death. The sockets where his eyes should be, and perhaps once had been, were lit up; a reflection from its sharp and shiny scythe.

    "Come we have a long day ahead, " came the gritty voice that was now more of a screeching impatience, "we have many stops to make."

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  I expected to follow death out the door, but before I could get there, it opened its dark cloak and motioned me inside. At first I was hesitant, I wondered if I were going to turn into vapor and be sucked in, but nothing happened. I just stood there as if in a staring contest with death glaring back at me. The bony structure of his face contorted in anger and impatience. I obliged wiithout further prolongment and stepped inside. It was a pungent, musky darkness. I wondered if he were going to try to walk with me in here. Then I realized that I was not bunched up or squished. It was as though I were lost in some vast and empty space. Everything started spinning, but I didn't fall. No, It felt like some invisible force was holding me up as the darkness spun around me.

   Then as soon as it had begun, it stopped. Death pulled opened the maw of its coat and I stepped out, my eyes in temporary blindess as they met the light. We were in a living room, nicely furnished. If there were any contrast to mine this would take the cake. Death nudged its head toward the hallway. I looked towards it but didn't move; I just stood there wondering what lay ahead. I understood that I was in the presence of death, and knew there could be only one reason for being here.

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    After I collected my thoughts and prepared myself, I moved across the room to the hall. The carpet was a fluffly white; the kind that stains real easy. The hallway was dark and long with a light at the end. Everytime I thought of stopping I felt the cold breath of death upon my shoulder beckoning me to keep going. Why did I need to be here?  Why did I need to see this? Why couldn't I just go to whereever it was I'd end up? Why couldn't I be left alone to die a peaceful death? These thoughts streamed through my mind as reached the end of the hall. There was a door there partly ajar. Light spilled out in slivers against the walls and carpet. I reached out to grab the door, and to my surprise my fingers embraced it. I was not yet a ghost, something told me so. What was I then?

    I pulled open the door and peered inside to see a startling scene. A woman, middle aged, was sitting against a wall. A knife protruded from her chest, dead center in a splotch of blood that covered her whole upper torso. Still that was not the strangest part. A woman was looking down at her, staring as if in confusion. It wasn't till I moved closer that I realized that  she was staring at herself. 

   "Hey, " I said aloud though my voice was raspy in the shock of it all.

   She turned from her body and looked at me and then at death. At first she didn't speak. She just stared between us and her corpse.

  "Am I dead?" she asked, the tone of her voice like a lost child looking for her parents.

 "Yeah, I think so," I told her, my eyes stuck on her corpse as I answered.

"What happend," she asked, "Did I kill myself?"

"I don't know," I answered, "But I'm dead too, Im...."

The strangest feeling came over me. I couldn't remember my name or anything about myself, Just that I'd died in my bathtub, that I'd killed myself. I looked behind me at death who was shaking his head.

  "You think thats bad, try having my job," came the gravely voice."

 Then he lifted his bony hand and beckoned us foward. He opened his robe and I stepped in and turned back to the woman but he was already closing it, motioning her away.

 

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   The spinning came again; the darkness revolved around me. I was lost in the deep thought of what had just happened. For some reason the woman did not come with us. I wondered if we each had our own personal grim reaper. I wondered why he'd brought me there, if we had not come to take her. These thoughts jumbled in my head as the chaotic spinning continued. I felt sick as though I were going to vomit, but nothing came. Then, abruptly we stopped.

  Death opened his coat once more, and I stepped out. This time the light was much brighter than had been before. I wondered if this were it, if this was the last shangrila. Then my eyes adjusted to the light, and I realised we were in the city. Skyscapers towerd over me, cars were locked in traffic.

  A crowd was encircled around the next block. I turned to look back at death. It shook its bony skull at me and motioned me forward to take a look. I took a breath and moved towards the crowd. As I drew closer I could hear excited chatter, but for some reason the words were just beyond hearing. I pushed through the wall of people, who didn't seem to notice me. On the other side I would have gasped had I not seen the dead woman moments before.

   A few feet away lay a crumpled lifeless body, broken by the long fall from the skyscraper in front of it. In front of the crowd a man in a nice dark suit was hysterical, screaming at the top of his lungs, "WHY CAN'T ANYONE HEAR ME?"

  "I can hear you," I said calmy.

 At this he turned and ran towards me. At first I wondered if he was going to attack me, but he stopped just before he got to me.

  "Did you say you hear me?" he asked half relieved.

 "Yes I did..."I said, barely able to get the words out.

He had got excited mometairly before looking back at the corpse behind him. When he turned to face me again he was drowning in tears of self sorrow.

  "I'm dead aren't I," he asked, but didn't wait for the answer, "what now."

 "Your asking the wrong person," I told him, " You should ask death," I advised pointing back behind us.

The man turned and his eyes went wide as he examined death. Death moved slowly, his scythe and bony feet scratching agianst the ground.

  "Thats not for me to tell you," came his creepy voice, "That is for you to decide."

 Then death motioned me once more to follow him. I ducked under his coat and sped into the waiting darkness.

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 Once more the invisible force kept me in place as the shadows loomed around me, spinning as they had before. I was growing tired of this, wondering what it all meant; wondering why he was bringing to view all of these deaths first hand. Was this some cruel joke designed to keep me from peace; a burden placed on my shoulders as a result of my suicide? Then another thought struck me....would I be moving back and forth to witness deaths for eternity? would this ever end?

The light blinded me as death open his cloak. I lifted my arm over my face so I could see, and after a moment of adjustment, I stepped out to find that I was in a small backyard, bordered by a tall wooden fence. To the left sat a small house, but my attention was focused on somethign else. A middle aged man was sitting in a chair in the middle of the lawn, a shotgun was placed between the ridges of his teeth, his finger on the trigger.

 "No," I shouted stepping forward, but it was too late, the man had laready squuezed the trigger. In a short moment before he died, before the bullet and he intoduced themsleves, the man's eye peered sideways, as if to acknowledge that in his last seconds of living he had heard. But, it was too late. I didn't see the explosion of his head, as my vison became blurred somewhere in that moment and I felt as though I were being pulled somewhere far away. My vison came back and I decided not to look at what I was sure was another fatality. I turned instead to death who was fading, his cloak open for me to join him. I did not wish to be left there, so I dived into the darkness.

 

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The revolving darkness surrounded me, and I found that I had lost care. Instead jumbled thoughts spewed through my head trying to put themsevles together. Still nothing meshed as if the nodes of my brain could not connect the lost fragments of my mind. Memory and thought faded leaving only a dark lonely nothingness: death inside and out. I was dead to the world and myself.

   The twirling oblivion haulted and diffused into light as death opened its cloak. I stumbled out and fell to my knees, gasping for air, not in need but in panick. After a few moments I looked up at my surroundings. The place seemed very familair though I could not recall where it was. I was in a living room with negelcted furniture. I turned and looked at death who just stood there, not beckoning or pointing, just standing. Then I heard a voice, a very familiar one, and I gained my footing and moved across the room. The voice was coming from down the hallway. I moved faster trying to make since of it all. The door at the end of the hall was opened and as I made out what lay beyond everything came back to me.

 "NOOOO," I screamed, and bolted for the door before it was to late. A cord was strung across the bathroom, reaching to the bathtub, where I lay. The other me was laying there self obsessed about what death might feel like; might be. My scream had not even abrazed his thoughts.

"Don't,"  I yelled even louder...