PART I CHAPTER 1 I didn’t even know I was dead. It felt sudden and quick—probably hit by a truck or something. Pretty standard as far as deaths go. I figured that was it, the end. Unfortunately for me, a new job opened up upon my passing, and I woke up as Death incarnate. Or colloquially, the Grim Reaper. Sucks, right? No training, other than those useless onboarding videos. Oh, and the sudden realization that I would have to watch everyone I know and love pass away. That was hard. The infinite knowledge of all existence was tough to swallow, too. It was all a bit overwhelming. Other than that, it’s a job. Since I no longer have my mortal coil, I don't need to sleep. Or eat. Or anything, really. I am the optimal employee, considering it’s now been so long that I don’t remember any of my hopes and dreams, wants, needs, name, bank information, or my sexual preferences. I’m never late, because, well, I only had to clock in once. That was as soon as I died. I was late for that, thoug...
how amazing it is, that i get to experience life at a moment to moment basis. one moment, i'm playing with a cat, next moment, i'm writing in my bed it’s when my consciousness is open i experience enlightenment those moments i exist only then and not in the future or nostalgic for the past at least not yet I am working towards an experience of the present but i only experience glimpses of the present perhaps that is our God? being at one with the moment That interchanges with the universe is all the universe a moment? a flicker into the night a guiding candle to the moths what of the darkness? does it get lonely too? surely the noxious gases deep in the heart of space sense our longing to experience them? the lonesomeness is shared throughout the cosmos our God is loneliness we were separated from God our consciousness split from the eternal fabric of nothingness and projected unto itself a show of its own existence watching deliberately , carefully, processing our ev...
CHAPTER 5 As I descended into the darkness, down the stairwell, I followed a trail of glowing dust (similar to the effect of fireflies on a summer night). I could feel a heavy weight in the air, and a sensation that I believed to be fear; human fear. At the stairwell's base, a hellish glow kindled, burning brighter as I neared my destination. Finally, at the bottom, a dilapidated neon sign flickered incoherently above the cavernous entrance. It read: "All hope abandon, ye who enter here." Below hung a PDF printout with the modern translation, probably tacked up by management to be contemporaneous: “Forget about hope—that’s what got you here.” Seemingly on cue, a prerecorded message began to blast from speakers along the ceiling: “Welcome to a new path, a path toward your new life. One with meaning, and filled with purpose. Having a new life can be confusing, but we here at Death&Co only have your best interests in mind. That is why we designed our cutting-edge Reedu...