Very few people are ever ready for death. She prides herself on arriving at precisely the right time, but there has been some contention on whether the right time is relative to her or her quarry.

Of course, not many ever actually got to bring that up with her. Chance was no exception. As such, his death went much as most did. After the semitruck hit him, there was simply nothing.

The world blinked out, and then he simply was.

How curious, Chance mused. This isn’t how I thought it would be at all. I kind of expected more… something.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he had expected. Perhaps a choir of angels would have been nice. Some gold brick pathways wouldn’t have been remiss either. But Chance got none of that. In fact, he wasn’t even particularly sure if he was disappointed that his death was so… mundane.

That was only natural, of course. There are not many things that man takes with him as he enters the eternal beyond, and emotions are not one of them. A few people did get the choir, though. Just not Chance.

In the endless abyss, light bloomed. Chance felt himself drawn toward it. The small speck bloomed, quickly filling the darkness with brilliant white. Then there was cold – and wet. A lot of wet, actually.

Chance blinked, inhaling and nearly choking as liquid rushed into his lungs. He rolled over, hacking and gasping for air. His body ached as if he’d been hit by a truck. After a moment, he realized that was exactly what had happened.

I must be in a hospital. But what kind of shitty hospital leaves a bunch of water in the damn bed? And why is it so bloody hard?

He groaned, opening his eyes. Then he blinked. He was sitting on cold gray stone of an old alleyway, not a plush hospital bed. In particular, he was situated directly on a large puddle of stagnant water. His clothes had been replaced with a dull grey and brown set that looked straight out of the middle ages.

Chance rubbed his eyes and looked around again. Nothing changed. A faint wind howled through the alley, nipping at his wet clothes and making him shiver.

“Is this what a concussion feels like?” Chance wondered, gently tapping his head. It didn’t hurt. He ran his hands over his body, but there wasn’t a single wound or even a bruise. A sinking feeling set in as he slowly rose to his feet and stared up at the sky.

The city rose up all around him, but he’d never seen such a vibrant hue of purple in the sky. It was almost magenta, with splotches of pink and orange twisting and dancing through it. All of it was hidden by a heavy haze that hung in the air directly over the alley, blurring everything behind it. He swallowed and blinked one last time.

“Hello?” Chance called. There was no response. The knot in his stomach tightened and he staggered down the alley, peeking into the street. It just led into another, darker alley. Chance turned and ran back the other direction, checking the other exit. Another alley.

Chance pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily.

What the hell is going on?

“Hello?” Chance called again. “Is anyone here? Where am I? If there’s a nurse, I’d like to request some morphine. Put me under or something!”

There was no response. In his heart, Chance knew why. There was no sky in earth that looked like this.

“Is this the afterlife?” Chance muttered. “Damn shitty one if it is. Can I get a reroll?”

Still, there was no response. Bob’s words rang through Chance’s head, and he paused.

“You can’t be serious,” Chance whispered to himself. “No way. No goddamn way.”

He held his hands out in front of him and bit his lower lip, concentrating. “System!”

Nothing happened.

“Stats! Window! Info! Data!”

His words echoed through the alleyways, vanishing without a trace. Chance lowered his hands. “Well, shit. There goes that idea.”

Chance shifted, and something poked him in his side. He reached into the pocket of his new pants, pulling out a small cylindrical bundle of paper. Baffled, Chance unwrapped it with trembling fingers.

Its contents – a single, stale Cheeto. Chance stared at it, then glanced around the alley, half expecting someone with a camera to step out. Nobody did, so he looked back down at the paper, nearly dropping the Cheeto in the process. Written across it in large, unwieldy handwriting, was a note.

Have fun. No more 2nd chances. Maybe you can find your folks. Don’t die.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

- Bob

1. S. Eat the Cheeto. Quickly.

Chance read the note again. He swallowed. If this was a prank, it wasn’t a very good one. But, with every passing second, he was becoming more and more convinced that this was real. Another breeze howled through the alley and his hair stood on end.

Something clicked against stone in the alley behind him. Chance spun toward the source of the noise, and a low growl emerged from the darkness. He stepped backward. “Uh… hello?”

Another click echoed through the alley. A hunched, malnourished black dog emerged from the darkness. Saliva dripped from engorged fangs that were too large for its mouth to properly shut, and its eyes burned with red light that left a faint trail through the shadows.

Chance swallowed and took another step back. The dog growled, pulling its lips farther back. It had several rows of jagged teeth, just like a shark. He cleared his throat and tried to remember what you were supposed to do when running into a ferocious animal.

Puffing his chest out, Chance bared his own teeth and imitated the creature’s snarl. It took another step forward, not dissuaded in the slightest. Then it let out a howl and charged. Chance spun, scrambling as he darted down the alley.

He skidded around the corner and took off, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. The dog’s paws pounded against the stone behind him. It slammed into the wall and its claws skittered as it got its footing under it again and bounded after Chance.

Chance dove through another alley. Every single one looked the same, and he couldn’t tell if he was even headed anywhere or if he was just running in circles. The dog’s ragged breath was right behind him, and he didn’t dare look back at the risk of getting caught.

“Someone help!”

Chance pushed himself to his limits, desperately trying to stay ahead of his pursuer. But, despite his best efforts, he could practically feel the monster’s hot breath on his neck. It was gaining on him.

He darted into another alley, skidding to a halt right in front of a dead end. Cursing, he spun. The dog stood at the entrance of the alley, saliva pouring from its mouth and pooling on the ground.

This wasn’t a prank. He was about to get ripped apart by the world’s ugliest dog. Chance’s fist tightened around Bob’s note. Something crunched and he paused, glancing down at his hand.

The Cheeto.

This better be the best damn Cheeto in history.

Chance threw it into his mouth and bit down. It tasted stale. He swallowed. The dog’s lips pulled back, almost as if it was laughing at him. The stupid thing probably was laughing at him.

Heat bubbled in Chance’s stomach. He gasped as it stretched out, reaching through his body like thin molten fingers. It wound through his veins and gathered in his chest, just below his heart.

Chance gagged, then choked. The dog took a step back, letting out a faint whimper. His hands were glowing. The heat continued to build inside Chance. He dropped to his knees, gasping for air. He couldn’t even gather the strength to cry out.

Bile built up in his throat and he doubled over, spewing a thick black sludge from his mouth. It poured like a river, coating the ground with foul smelling liquid. It went on for so long that he started to fear that he was going to drown in it before the liquid abruptly stopped and he drew a ragged, gasping breath.

The dog shifted its weight from paw to paw, eyeing Chance with hunger in its eyes. His throat felt burnt raw, but he raised his hands defensively.

“G-good dog. Go away, or I’ll throw up on you.”

The dog growled. It tested the liquid with a paw, then put its weight onto it and started slowly moving toward Chance. He forced himself upright with a groan. It hurt more now than it had when he’d gotten hit by the truck.

Then it burst into a run. The dog charged at him, leaping over the black sludge in the alley. Chance slipped, falling back and raising his hands defensively with a terrified cry.

Well, this sucks. Thanks for everything, Bob. Sorry I couldn’t make more of it.

A deep thrum ran through his body, starting from the point right under his heart. It erupted forth and wisps of golden smoke spilled out of his body. The dog hit the ground right in front of Chance, stretching to rip his throat out.

One of the golden wisps entered it. The monster slipped on the sludge and slammed to the ground, sliding straight past Chance and hitting the wall. A loose brick pitched off the top of the wall and landed straight on the monster’s head with a crunch. It didn’t move again.

Chance stared at the monster’s corpse. Then he looked down at his hands, a hysterical laugh starting to spill out of his chest. He doubled over, howling with laughter as tears streamed down his face.

Several minutes passed before he managed to wrest control of himself again. He slowly rose to his feet, edging over to the dog’s body and nudging it with a toe. Its head was caved in – it was dead.

“What the hell?” Chance muttered. He looked down at his hands.

What was that light? Where am I? What is going on?

He unwrinkled Bob’s note with shaking fingers and read through it again. Then he folded it back up, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. There was no denying it. He wasn’t on Earth. This wasn’t a prank. And – possibly – he had some sort of magic.

Chance tried to call on it again, picturing the golden wisps, but nothing happened.

What a surprise. I’m starting to get used to that response.

Chance wrinkled his nose. The alley was starting to really smell. He wasn’t sure what the black liquid had been, but it was rancid. Shuddering, he stepped over it and walked out of the alley, moving as silently as possible in case there was another monster lurking around.

Okay. Let’s look at the good things. I’m alive. For now. Bob gave me a magic Cheeto that did… something. I might have magic.

Chance froze. He pulled the note back out, scanning over it again.

Maybe I can find my folk – no way. They got hit by a truck. Does Bob mean they could be here too?

Chance read over it several more times, in case he’d somehow missed something. He memorized every word before he carefully folded it back up and returned it to his pocket. As far as he could tell, it was his last remaining link to Earth.

He continued through the dark alleys. They all looked the same, but it wasn’t like he could get any more lost. After all, getting lost means you knew where you were at one point.

While Chance walked, he continued to try and call on the strange magic that had arisen when the monster had attacked him. He tried picturing the burning sensation and visualizing the mist again, but to no avail.

What changed? Was it a one-time thing from the Cheeto? Or was it because I said thank you while visual-

Molten heat coiled in Chance’s chest and he gasped. Wisps of gold light emerged from his hands, coiling around his fingers before fading away. He stared at his hand, his heart thundering.

Chance swallowed.

Thank you.