I always wondered what it was like. Death, that is.
Was there something after life? Would my soul float away to a paradise beyond the clouds or plummet to a sulfuric demise? Would I become something or someone else in a new life? Would it just all fade to black?
I lay in the brush thinking back on the times I pondered these things, trying to find a comforting theory to reassure myself.
It's raining now. It's a bit numb but I feel the droplets hit my skin. Water runs down my brow and into my open eye.
I'm not sure how long it's been since I found myself here. Hopefully someone will find me soon. I've started to feel strange sensations in my chest where it went in.
I hear distant voices over the plucking of the rain on the fallen leaves on the ground.
I want to call out to them but I can't seem to draw a breath to do so.
The voices are closer now.
"Over here!"
I hear a voice say.
They finally found me.
I wait for a helping hand and a comforting voice but all I hear are somber orders being given and the clicks of a camera's shutter.
It's raining a bit harder now. Why isn't anyone helping me?
I feel a presence at my side.
"Who did this to you, buddy?"
A gruff voice says from just above me.
I want to cry but nothing happens.
I hope this isn't what it's like. Death, that is. Because I'm still here.
submitted by /u/Tin_Crow25
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