The wind rushed by the falling man. His hair billowing along with his loose clothing.
He did not flail or do anything really. He just looked at his family near the railings, crying, reaching out for him. He saw the workers grabbing them and telling them to ‘stand back’, ‘it's not safe’, all their training told them to say.
-
Well shit this is how I die?
By a rusted bolt coming undone the moment I leaned on it?
I can’t even be mad. It's just so FUNNY!
So miserably funny that I wanna die-
…
Oh wait, ahahaha, I am!
Fuck. Wait. Am I crying? I can’t tell. I really can’t.
…
Is this gonna hurt?
I hope not.
I’ll miss you guys. I’ll always love you.
-
The man smiled and shut his eyes trying to fall into the memory. Before he did he hit the cold, stone and dusty ground.
The dust disturbed flew up, fluttering around like a bee’s.
A wet thud echoed up.
The man’s family cried out, their sobs growing louder.
----------------------------------------
The world was white. An expanse made up of white and different shades of whites. It was flat, without flaw. It held no light, but at the same time darkness didn’t exist.
That whiteness was disturbed. A slight ripple that then escalated to a shaking. The ground rose and slid off the rising form, melding back into the whiteness below.
The liquid whiteness slid off the form and revealed a man. Naked, hairless, and pale white – almost matching the ground he laid on.
His eyes shot open. He sat up coughing, gasping for air, but there wasn’t any.
-
I can’t breathe.
Why can’t I breathe?
Something is in my throat, my lungs, something.
But at the same time, there's nothing.
Feels like the lack of air.
I hate it.
I need air, not this.
Where am I?
-
The man clenched his throat. His jaw clenched. His grip tightened as he continued to look around with increasing agitation.
-
I want air!
Who am I?
I am choking.
What's happening
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-
His hands slid from his throat, and he gulped in something. His body went slack.
-
That feels so wrong.
But-
Why do I know I don’t need to breathe?
It feels so weird.
My head is fuzzy.
Who am I?
Why do I know these things?
Wh-
-
The man felt his cheek. Tears ran down them.
-
Why am I sad?
I forgot something.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
My skull.
Ow.
Ow!
Ow!
Stop.
It hurts.
It hurts!
-
The man clenched his skull and screamed. The feelings that he had rushed forward with more clarity than he could wish.
He screamed, nails digging into his pale flesh.
He slammed his head repeatedly over and over into the whiteness. It bent and sank down. Deforming into a small pit.
Then he froze, shaking, then going still.
-
My family.
Hahahahhahahah.
Hahahahahahahaha!
WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!?
Shit.
SHIT!
I hate this.
It hurts.
I hate the feeling in my chest. It's hollow.
I don’t need air because I am dead.
-
The man laughed and laughed. Then froze, face going stern.
-
I hate this, I want air.
Humans are really addicted to it.
Now…
Ha.
Now I am thirsty. Waters is a drug too.
Ha!
-
He licked his lips and looked around. He slowly got up.
-
Damn.
My legs feel like noodles.
These aren't my legs. They look like them, but it feels like I'm a damn baby trying to walk.
-
He stumbled about and fell into a slight shuffle.
-
Is this purgatory?
Because, like…
Hey GOD! I suggest like a designer, there has to be at least one good person up there with talent.
…
I am dead.
Well.
I am dead.
I a-
-
The man fell onto his backside, the whiteness comforting his fall. He went still, letting out one chuckle before going silent.
Time passed, and he just stared off. A blank expression, tears sometimes falling.
-
Yup.
HA!
Dead.
I had no chance.
-
A line appeared in front of the man, stretching out till stopping, then expanding up. It resembled something similar to the canvas used in movie theaters. It was only fairly smaller. Its borders blended into the background of white, the canvas, board, only distinct due to the slight glow it had.
He crawled back. Near scrambling.
Words writing themselves out as he did.
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