“I’m sorry I killed you. In my defence, I’ve seen sea cucumbers get more out of life”

The cranky blonde woman certainly had a point.

“You’ve got me there. My question stands. Why do I have to go? I was looking forward to not existing anymore. I am so sick of being me.”

“Because you are already on your way! It cost me a years’ energy to pick you up. I am NOT a taxi service. You don’t want to be you? I’ll give you a clean slate. If that’s not good enough, just DIE. Well, twice. You’ll absorb too much energy on the journey for one death to properly take”

She was looming over him at this point. If he had known life had an exit interview, he might have tried to die in something more appropriate than jeans and a hoodie.

“You weren’t the one I was after anyway. How was I supposed to know your shitty car didn’t have airbags?”

His car wasn’t shitty. It did have airbags. They just weren’t made to deploy twice in a single minute.

“You didn’t want me? Not arguing with you on that point, but why did I have to die too? I recognised one of those girls from my therapist’s office. The pretty brunette. Were you after her? Where did you get that cigarette? Can I have one?”

The blonde woman sat back in her chair. She waved her free hand and a pack of smokes with a disposable lighter appeared on the endless desk before him.

They sat and smoked in silence for a time before she finally answered.

“The tall one. She has the aura of a fanatic. I’m hoping she grows into my first Paladin in a century. The little one might be of some quality, if she comes out of her shell,”

He laughed quietly to himself. Then less quietly. His laughter bordered on obnoxious when her glare finally silenced him.

“A Paladin? Are we talking video game or cult?”

“A magical holy warrior!!” she roared

“A magical bad-ass mother in a magic world full of adventure and conquest! Don’t you understand what I am offering you?”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He had the gall to crush his cigarette stub on the desk between them.

“Yeah, I get it. What you don’t seem to understand is that it’s pointless. It’s all pointless. Nothing means anything. Life has no purpose, with or without waving a wand and turning people into toads. My life, your life, and now apparently my afterlife. It was all supposed to be over for me. You’ve ruined that!”

Most people confronted with his nihilistic outlook were stumped for a minute. This woman didn’t miss a beat.

“My my, but you are a silly little man. Life is what you make it. You’ve certainly invested time in making your own perfectly horrible. I am not a cruel person. I will grant both your wishes. Now GO. Go die, knowing nothing of who you were,”

The last thing he saw was a flash of blue white. Then there was nothing..

~ ~ ~

AMACORE

Where am I? Who am I?  What am I? Does it matter? This is just a noisome nonsense question anyway. Consciousness is simply an emergent quality of interconnected senses, providing the illusion of self.

..oh no. I’m annoying.

Ok. Enough navel gazing. Time to keep screaming.

Parts of a man, specifically; an arm, shoulder, head, and part of a torso appeared in the forest. Half birthed from a tree.

The man kicked with bruised and bleeding toes. His nails scrabbled to find any purchase or leverage to force a way to freedom. The wood was too tough, too smooth.

A nearby Dryad had listened to the intermittent screaming, begging, and crying for most of the morning. Moved to pity, the Nature Spirit summoned mercy for the desperate creature.

There was a knot in the wood by the man’s ankles. He could push off it enough to get firmly wedged. His chosen method for getting unstuck again was to scream until his chest held no more air. If not strictly the best method, the most cathartic.

He pulled his arm back inside the hollow of the trunk. It was no warmer, but it got him out of the wind.

Exhausted, bleeding and naked, he bent at the knee to squeeze in his head.

A claustrophobic micro-nap later, he pushes off the knot again. He scraped chest, thighs and buttocks in his attempt worm out the gap to freedom.

The patient Warg bit down on the neck of the Manling. One firm shake and its neck cracked. Two days of meat and good standing with a tree spirit. Its canine smile pushed teeth deeper.

It took half an hour to pull the prize of flesh from its wooden cage.

Cursed-stinkin-mangy-shitbreath DOG that hurt!

Did I just get eaten? What the hell was that?

Where the hell am I?

When did I lay down?

Someone cleared their throat musically above him

“You are not supposed to be here”