> Mere moments after my death I awoke; not to gentle symphony played across wheat in a field of reeds by dancing winds, but to the shrieking of mothers, children, fathers sons, people from all walks of life were gathered around me. As my eyes adjusted to the jarring abyss that I found myself in, the pain of my untimely death seeped into my bones, and I too understood why they were screaming. After a moment to calm my nerves I took in the sight of the others and myself, despite the lack of light, each of us was an incandescent being, our clothes and colors stripped, each of us a pale glowing apparition of what we once were. Hundreds of naked forms, each a ghostly visage of a person likely coming to terms with their death at this very moment.
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> As soon as my mind reeled in the sight of those around me, it struck me, this was my afterlife. I looked down upon my hands, and saw the pale light they shone with, an eerie feeling resided deep within me as I saw the slight translucence to my form. Despite what I perceived as a lack of a real body it was apparent, everyone here could feel pain and retained their worldly senses. After a brief period no longer than a breath no shorter than a blink; something arose from the ground like a great spear piercing the world, it's terrible form wrapped in the very absence of light around it like vines clinging to it as it rose. Mere heartbeats after it pushed through the strands keeping it held. It's kindred form a mess of wings and eyes prancing over one another with reckless abandon for the rules of reality. Almost through instinct I kneeled, as it's eyes fell upon us. The shrieks of terror fell silent, as though it's very gaze had rended the sound of our anguish. With that dozens of us disappeared, their forms turning to stardust and being scattered into the void around us. Flowing gently on a breeze we could not feel. As time began to stretch on, and our numbers dwindled. I found that there were only around 50 of us remaining. I opened my mouth in a vain attempt to communicate with someone near, but I found that I had not and could not produce sound. It truly had rended the very sound from this abyss, with a mere gaze. For a moment I felt clarity, and realized two things, firstly I had not yet felt fear this entire time, and secondly, I could not for a moment remember who I was, like a photo just out of focus. So near yet so very far.
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> Time began to wane and wax slowly, moments feeling faster and slowly as I tried to focus on the... the.. creature? No. The angel that floated wistfully near yet far. Eventually I found myself all but alone albeit with the company of said angel, every other man, woman, and child, had been scattered on the wind. The angel gazed at me, no taunting remarks, no words of wisdom, no explanation. All it conveyed was a strange sense of curiosity, as if I was a mere bauble resting upon an ornate shelf. I tried foolishly to stare back but I felt my very soul feel like it was being torn apart. In a moment I felt myself become a sea of stars dancing on the wind like every that had come before me, my soul shredded so it may be freed. After far too long, I was whole once more but I felt as though something was wrong. I was back in a place of absence. I for the first time, perhaps ever, should my lack of proper memory be more than a mere amnesia, spoke. "..Where?" My voice danced around the space like a butterfly in a field of goldenrod. Albeit a far butterfly with one wing as it came out a cragged and hoarse note.
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> Like clockwork my question was answered by brilliant red text hovering mere inches before me.
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> "Hello and welcome, I'm sure you're scared, but worry not, you've been given a wonderful opportunity.. Reincarnation! You've been selected to be a part of a new world. May the stars guide you, @#(DR$! ... ... ... System error."
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> I stood there gerrymandering for a moment, before truly drinking in the text. While the information may have seemed exciting to most, it only left me awestruck. While it confirmed my thought this was an afterlife; the notable error, and my name, or what I can assume should have been my name was a mess of random characters. Alas I suppose even this esoteric text doesn't seem to know my name. After a few moments of silence the text flickered out of life taking the small solace I sought in it's presence to keep me grounded with it. I was for the first time truly alone, not an ounce of life around me, and my own life swimming in the depths of my mind like a great elusive whale, ever swimming out of view. Finally I began to wait.
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> After what felt like far longer than I'm sure I could properly grasp in this state, I found myself begin to grow bored. A strange new feeling in my chest really, though familiar, my situation made it feel as though it were the first time. I began to try and move, it wasn't that the visages of my legs would not move, but simply that they could not remember. I stumbled forward, falling and expecting to hit the ground through instinct, but the feeling never came. I looked around and clearly saw myself touching the ground, or at least the plane of black I stood upon, but it did not push back against me. I dug my fingers into it and it gave out, like wet clay in a sculptors hands. I tried to run my fingers over where I had left the mark but alas it was gone a moment after. I tried in vain to sit back up, only to find my legs to be treasonous in their whims, not giving an ounce of respect to my orders. So I used what i had and began to crawl, at a snails pace. My fingers digging into the absence below, over and over, ad nauseam.
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> Until I felt something break Like shards of glass, the visage of the fingers upon my left hand shattered. I began to writhe in pain upon the ground, yet I could not feel a scream well in my throat. After the pain subsided I gazed upon the broken stubs upon my hands, and the tiny motes of my very soul upon the ground. In a vain attempt I tried to piece them back into place, but they refused such binding. So in a desperate attempt I took the tiny shards and swallowed them. I felt more whole but my fingers had not returned, so I focused on sitting up. After what felt like a few hours I was back upright sitting in a cross legged position. I gazed at my broken hand over and over, feeling a sense of foreign dread wash over me. Perhaps I should have found solace in my boredom. No. That felt wrong.. perhaps it was the nature of my soul shining through, but such an action felt like a dire sin. And so I tried to stand up, despite my legs disobedience, of course I failed miserably, However after what I perceived as a few hours, I stood on two shaky legs and began to walk. Curious what may lay before me should I walk long enough.