As a boy, my dream was to be an astronomer; I remember the exact moment it happened, having received a poster of the then nine planets of the solar system that my childhood hands could barely hold. When Pluto had its status removed some years later, I promised myself it would always remain a planet in my heart.

The ramblings of an innocent child, I suppose.

Growing older, the more time I spent learning about that uncharted territory surrounding every star, the more I thought that certainly, God must be the only way to describe such an expansive creation coming into being. One day, I would certainly be able to study and understand this creation in a way no one else has.

One day, I would certainly be able to glimpse at this creation of God.

Against my will, the memories flew forward to my first few weeks of university— Astronomy 101. I thought I knew everything there was to know about the class, feeling ever so superior for already understanding concepts like the process behind the creation of galaxies and what binary star systems were.

“Spaghettification.” explained the stereotypically erratic astronomy professor. “Inside an infinitely dense point in space, that’s what would happen if you were to fall into a black hole.”

I knew the term already, of course. At a point where gravity is so strong, light is unable to escape, any part of your body that enters the infinite gravity first will be yanked like a chain, pulled so quickly and completely that the body part would be stretched out to the molecular level. This meant that the rest of the body would be intact until falling into that gravity well, one body part, one cell, one molecule at a time. Yanked like a chain.

I couldn't speak, and I could barely think; so why, of all the moments in my life, did I begin to think of a lecture given by my teacher in a subject I’d long since forgotten? Right…it’s been years since I’d moved past the subject. But even so, the knowledge never left.

It was at that exact moment I remembered something I heard in one of my many Japanese cartoons.

“You saw your life flashing before your eyes. According to one theory, the reason one sees such images before death is because you’re searching for a way to avoid death by going through all your past experiences and memories.”

Aah, that’s what these thoughts are.

The ramblings of a dying man, I suppose.

That would mean that now is the part where I remember……

…right…

………I never was able to pass the classes to become an astronomer.

“BLGEGHHHHGGEEHHH!!!!!!!!”

Hard.

Cold.

Everything spun. Blurs of dark indistinguishable colors melted into a single nauseating ray of light.

Erratic.

Which way was I falling? Direction failed me. My body is trying to tell me; it can’t tell from the speed of my descent.

Was I dead? No. I’m dying.

It hurts. Needles growing through my skin. It’s painful; weighted vomit fills my every vein. The blood blended inside my skull, I can feel it claw against the muscle.

My eyes. Like nails against a chalkboard.

It hurts.

My stomach. Please let me die.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

It’s cold.

Please hurry. Please let me die.

My back suddenly contorts, my lungs squeeze violently against my ribs.

“hMmMMBLULLUEGGHHHH!!!!”

Nails on the chalkboard; it’s in my ears now.

Disorienting. I’m disoriented by the pain; but my hands.

My hands?

The fingers curled inward. I can feel it, it’s beneath me; there’s stillness.

Stability.

Nerves. The nerves of my fingers, they’re the first to come back.

Beneath me, the stability feels hard. It feels flat.

My nerves. The tips of my fingers, my instincts say there’s something…wet.

There’s a gut feeling. It’s not nauseating anymore. But the pain is still there.

But it’s different this time…I can acknowledge it. It doesn't feel like the end.

This feeling. Right. This kind of pain, it’s the kind that speaks aloud.

It tells my nerves, my body, my consciousness.

It tells me — “you’re alive.”

“He lost his lunch.” said a voice echoing through my mind. “You owe me five req.” I couldn’t immediately identify it, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I managed to label it. It belonged to a female. It sounded young. Dry.

Using it as an anchor, I focused every ounce of my attention and willpower on it. I still couldn't think straight, but I didn’t need to, I latched onto it as hard as I could; I wanted to return to the present. I wanted to feel steady.

I can’t stand inconveniences, and this dizziness…

…that’s right. I am me. I’m myself. I’m someone who despises inconvenience.

This dizziness was an inconvenience in spades.

I forced my lungs to inhale— air chilled the teeth in my mouth, it felt like needles, but I could feel my muscles calm at the action. I tried moving my neck, listening and feeling the cracks vibrate through the bone. Squinting hard, I opened my eyes again and forced myself to confront the shapes around me. In less time than I expected, my vision shifted from blurs, to solidified color, until I was finally conscious enough of myself to make out the figures of two girls in front of me.

Or rather, two girls standing above me. One of them…I recognized the gesture. She had her hand out— she was offering it to me.

I recognized the gesture. And whether by fright, desperation, confusion, or simple instinct— I took it.

And for the first time since what felt like years, with shocking ease, I stood on my own two feet.

“Don’t worry,” she said, steadying me as I found my balance in standing. “It happens to almost everyone. Between the transition and nanosculpting.”

“You are stealing my thunder!” the other girl, the one who was owed money, says. “You’re not even supposed to be here, I’m assigned to orientation.”

It’s funny how the instincts of a guy work. I’d just come out of what I can only explain as a conscious coma, accompanied by seconds or years of the worst pain my body had ever experienced, and the only thing on my mind was the fact that the two girls in front of me were incredibly, almost impossibly, attractive.

The girl assigned to orientation— though her speech was brusque and stand-offish, I couldn't help but notice her petite build. Delicate facial features that didn’t match her stance.

And the girl whose hand I held, she seemed to have an injury on her face— a giant bandage on her left cheek— but even given the fact she was injured, I was drawn in by the way her bright auburn hair cascaded around her shoulders. Glowing magenta eyes. A smile tinted with warmth.

Nothing but horror ran through as I realized that I’d thrown up in front of both of them not a handful of minutes ago.

The injured girl said it happened to everyone right? It didn’t make me feel any better, and I could only hope she truly meant that and was used to it. Because if they’re only acting like they don’t see my disgusting leftovers still a few feet away, I wouldn’t be able to look either of them in the eye with my self-respect still intact. What's worse, the cool and collected attitude I’d worked over the years to build would all be for naught.

Though somehow…I got the feeling my worries were less than the last thing on their mind.

“Forgive me for trying to make someone’s first memories of a new life a little happier.” said the injured girl, looking over her shoulder.

“Happy isn’t our business.” said the girl with a gruff attitude. She pushed past the girl a bit taller than her, and met my eyes with a predatory smile. And for the first time in my life, the way I presented myself to this impossibly attractive girl in front of me was far from my mind.

“Alright fresh meat, welcome to the End of the World.”