On the Brightside of Death Chapter 2

I eventually ended up into an old apartment, brown leather La Z Boy recliners and creaky wooden tables littering the home. Behind a tattered white curtain I could tell that it was late in the night. Lights from skyscrapers and streetlights brightened the room slightly, and I could just make out a silhouette rustling on a bed. A table lamp clicked on.

“I’ve been expecting you,” an elderly man said, clutching his Holy Bible as he sat up to face me. From the deep wrinkles set into his weathered face, I could tell he’s been through quite a tough life.

“And as I you sir, so I would assume you know why I am here.”

“My time has come; it is the debt all men must pay.”

“Rightfully so, for with death comes new life. Now, only to decide how you must go and to where.”

“My hardships have made me learn much; this life has not been everything it should have been, and more.”

“You know, it delights me to a great extend to realize that although life has not been perfection for you, you have not committed to any means of escape, such as suicide. It leads you to be a ghost before moving onto a low level in heaven or to a low level in hell, then becoming a ghost, and then to heaven.”

“May I say a prayer before I depart young one?” I smirked before nodding.

“You may.” The man flipped through his dusty old book to a passage which he had folded the corner of its page. He wove his fingers together before having his palms meet.

“Oh, dear Lord,” letting out a deep breath, “upon my gracious entering, please help me find what I missed her on Earth. I love in God and may my soul be salvaged.” The brown whirlpool eyes the man possessed seemed to stare straight into my very spirit. I looked away uncomfortably. “I trust you will be there if my soul makes it to Heaven?”

I shook my head. “My kind doesn’t stray there often. If you do make it to Heaven, you will have a wonderful time, guaranteed. Now, sleep.” My hand pulled out a fistful of black powder from my cloak pocket, my mouth blowing it into the elder’s face. The soul flew up out of him as his body hit his pillow; I took it in my hand, paused to inspect it for only a second, and then threw it up into the skies. “I hope I see you again sir,” I whispered, my eyes seeing a world far away, immersed in the blue and white atmosphere above.

Usually I leave right after I take a life, but this time, I decided to stay for just a little while longer. I pulled the old man’s sheets up to his chin. Already the corpse looked cold and stiff. At least he was going into a better place now… I would make sure of it.

A newspaper hanging on the arm of one of the recliners informed me it was a Saturday, for midnight was a few minutes yet to come, and apparently I was in Boston. I threw it aside and relaxed in the seat, searching for the remote before turning on the old box television. This was a rarity for me: watching TV, just being around electronics in general. Death had a cell phone, all of his most trusted allies and servants had them too, but not the heiress. I wasn’t allowed to interact with computers, phones, playing devices… to me, I basically wasn’t to be around any entertainment. On the sly my dad’s right hand man would slip me a phone or even a few batteries and wires, to keep myself busy. Silas Bradsbury was his name, and he was probably the nicest guy you would ever meet in hell. Trustworthy, cunning, and wise beyond anyone’s years, you would not want him to be your enemy, but you would have to have him as your closet friend.

After sifting through the channels, I ended up watching an episode of Jersey Shore and microwaving some popcorn I found in a cupboard. I was having a great time, but when the show ended, and the bowl became empty, my body forced itself upright and through the portal to home.