The world was bathed in crimson.

All I saw. All there was.

Red.

“Retreat! Run! Incoming! Cover!”

Screams rise from arena of the wealth, life and power.

That day though wasn’t a particularly important day.

Supplies were distributed and meals were had, dawn smiled upon an unblemished land.

The mountain wind carried an ancient breath, the grass swayed, and the morning dim dripped from the leaves striking the soldiers traversing the muddy path.

All was going well, like God made that day perfect. Perhaps it was my own naïve perception or changing its memory to suit my present outlook.

 But that, day. That day. Was the day that changed everything.

I wonder if it happened differently, what would I become. But alas it is impossible. I can only recount snippets of what I remember. The first thought after the first attack is barely intact. I woke up like:

My ears have flies in them. It is irritating.

 A liquid traveled across my jawline and nose. It is uncomfortable.

The smell felt. Disgusting. Like a unclean outhouse.

My feet is wet, my arms heavy.

 The static noise clears, everything hits at once.

 The mud, the blood, the screams and splashes of people hitting ponds by feet or head.

I-I~ am not sure what was used, who we fought.

Compared to later on in my life, what I lived as an earthling is miniscule.

I can only lament my complacency. If I had written regularly before I wouldn’t commit such inaccurate memories to paper.

However, I remember one thing.

 My back was against some sturdy object. A light that pierced my eye, feeling words, tasting emotions and touching my memories.

Like lighting but not like any time was given to me to experience my past. A blast of power pierced me or crushed me. It is hard to remember. Maybe it was both.

All of them.

Just.

Gone.

Little remained.

Erased from my mind, later I understood the traces of my past better. Clearer.

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The wounds we have just can’t heal.

Ignoring these just doesn’t help.

And what is gone still leaves holes behind.

After my passing it is more vivid. The healing touch of time or to me patching one instead.

Flowers bloomed and land recovered. Still, the fortified positions left small hills and holes.

Trees grew again, animals came back. Metals and stone remained.

I must have stood still for a long time. I myself don’t remember how I “woke up”.

My? body laid bare against the ground, cloth on it in tatters, bones covered by the forest foliage providing the least amount of dignity a mortal could ask for.  At least I wasn’t alone when I died. I could see small parts of skulls peeking behind the foliage.

However this isn’t from my thinking from then. I couldn’t think of much, regarding my situation I can only stare at my remains.

I could rage against my own making, rebel to whoever made me witness my end. Then to what end? When could I do to such a being?

I could drown in sorrow and weep, ruined by what I lost. However, it would slight many people who passed away worse than I have.

I could accept it as is which you might expect but no. Even that escaped me. I just stared to some stranger, I will never meet. But what is the worst part of all is that I just watched it disintegrate. There were no words, there were no rage, sadness, remembrance. A ghost stood at the feet of his body.

In time, leaves were eaten by creatures, cold settled in.

The creatures checked the remains time to time and marked it.

People went by just couple of meters away and mafia hid bags besides the path.

I listened to the world and obediently sat.

The sun returned sooner and stayed longer.

People visited the land for some time but I paid them no mind.

Why would dead care about them anyway?

The hunters hunted and life propagated, so years went by.

When I woke up from my rest, I witnessed something I couldn’t imagine.

The ground grew distant as I slowly gained speed. This had never happened before, no matter how anything tried couldn’t move me. The earth shifted and dogs hid my bones. The bones themselves slowly grounded into dust and spread into air. I just gazed on.

The scenery gained speed. An old wolf hunted a rabbit. A bear waited by a waterfall, waiting for a salmon. Cities, villages, meadows, outhouses, deserts, pyramids, temples, ruins.

That was the only thought I had. A saddness I couldn’t precive the source of enveloped my undeath body. I ascended rapidly as day and night became a flickering light. Clouds white, black and red. Sounds mashing together. A cacophony of stimuli rushing past.

Then darkness of space, moon orbiting the earth, planets, asteroids, Pluto and so much more. It didn’t stop there, my transparent body gone through everything, accelerating further and going farther.

Blackholes, nebulas, wonderous lethal objects. Hours to minutes, minutes to seconds. Galaxies and universe. I felt satisfied.

Having seen the microscopic view of a ghost. Exhilarating speed proved addictive.

Curiosity and energy. What more could there be more opposed to death?

I recalled my memories when some people passed by. I listened to them even when I couldn’t move my gaze away from where I perished. Who could blame me? Even undead find themselves drawn to gossip and eavesdropping from time to time.

“Do you know asteroids that contain water become shooting stars when they fall down to our planet?”

“There are theories that says what we say as planets are gods instead!”

“I find horoscopes wonderful. What is your horoscope?”

“Qi comes from earth and sky, Moon gives off feminine Qi…”

Soon there were no more celestial bodies behind me. As I looked in wonder, darkness consumed the scenery.

The lights gone out. After that I waited and waited.

I thought to what I have heard before.

“There is a theory that outlines a problem with blackhole being a hole in existence.”

“Theory states that, blackholes stretch time immensely due to most particles moving too fast. It is believed that- “

Were there any other people that talked about it?

“If someone entered the event horizon, it would stretch it to infinitum. At least that’s what I heard.”

It hurts. To know there is bigger world out there. Perhaps, it was better when I only knew my piece of universe.

“Limbo is thought to be finite-“

“Black holes exhume in the form of radiation so it is thought that even blackholes has a lifespan.”

So I waited. Remembering voices of people, rain, chirping of birds, howling of wolves, croaking of frogs. My mother’s visage, my favorite meal, ecstasy of running, home of unknown grandparents, heirloom knife. I had a lots of remembering to do. That’s how I came to be here, seeing light piercing the nothingness. Waiting.