Things may have gone a bit far for me.
Plans and chances never do seem to play out like one would like.
I was hoping to be buried or at least thrown into the wilderness.
For my disposal to be the Pit is messed up. I thought that I had built a repertoire with these people and to have at least some affection towards my death.
*Thunk
*Thunk
I hear other corpses pilling up near me.
The Pit
A place where bodies are thrown to deny people their afterlife. The most disrespectful place to dump the dead.
A human hill lies underneath me, yet no rotting smell pervades the place. I lay staring at the light shining down on my scenario. Its hilarious.
My shroud tears as I start to move.
Ripping it off I get my bearings straight and zone in on what to do now. This is a hill made of countless humans. Pale grey skin with dead eyes staring into space. Some clothed. Some stripped bare.
The funny thing is, my skin is now grey.
My name is Weylin Wylos, and I am dead.
-----
"Do you have anything to say bitch? Repent a little or stay the same."
*ptttttah
"Eat my shit. You people knew all along. When I was searching and asking, lies. I hope your wives cheat on you and get impregnated by some diseased fucks."
I spit at the guard as he acts superior. So what if I have no power? I wont respect yours!!!
"Like mother like daughter huh. Its a shame. You could have been a regular person. Uselessly committing patricide for what? There is no way you actually cared."
"You mean how my mother was treated under his care? What my 'father' did to my 'mother'. No I don't. You people were supposed to be 'neutral'. Even 'friendly'. Coworkers. Labeling rats is useless in the end...."
He handles me roughly. Picking me up as he stares into my eyes.
"Unlike a rat I look into the eyes of those I kill, lass. Even if it's a psycho like you. Pretend all you want. Fucking with the patients and killing a guard are enough. Live forever in that Pit."
The rage and mania fade as I enter apathy. I guess this is now my future.
My name is Hana Leon, and I am dead.
-----
*Thunk
*Thunk
Bodies continuously pile up around me as I admire my now grey skin. At least they left me my servant clothing. The most they spent on me was to make me look nice in front of others.
"Ahhhhhh!!!!"
*Thunk
Seems like another live one. She doesn't move after that impact. Did the same happen to me?
She's dressed in a nice uniform. Not some poor whelp or prostitute. At least as far as I know? She's got short hair.... As well as a deeply condescending look on her face. Her body is pretty shapely as well but, I guess I shouldn't think that way about a corpse?
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I wait. Now, I have all the time in the world. Perhaps I can establish-.... Something? With this person. Check and see if she needs help when she comes to.
Eventually the murdered woman stirs.
I lean over her and stare directly into hers eyes as she opens them.
"Hi."
----
"Hi"
"Fuck."
Who is this weirdo? Grey skinned like a corpse and-! Right. Pit and what-not. Corpses are piled up everywhere including this moving one here.
"Heaven for some with certain types of 'love'."
"Ignoring me?"
"Do all these people have a conscious? Would be fun to mess with. Lack of reactions tho-! You are still a moving one!"
"Your lack of self awareness is frightening ma'am. Still, I think you can manage just fine. Farewell."
Hey!
"No. You're either 'friendly' or 'neutral'. Help me out here. Two heads are better than one as the saying goes right?"
....
He looks at me with trepidation for some reason. I must have rubbed the guy the wrong way.
....
"Ahem so, ugh? We're in the Pit. A type of hell, no?"
"A physical hell. Where death is impossible. The stories may have some merit. As this is proven."
The man lifts his pale grey arm and dangles it in front of his face. We look at each other and the hill underneath.
Fuck.
This is bad. A feeling of being trapped eats into my head.
No!!!
I look up and see more carcases cascade. The light reaching down. Things start to feel real.
"Lets review some stories. Things related to the Pit. It'll pass a little time here."
He starts talking but I ignore that drivel. Using my nails to dig into my scalp.... I bite my lip hard yet no blood draws.
"Deep in the woods lies a hermit. He lived a lonely life closed off from the world. Not one knew him or cared for him. All of his family died many years ago, scarring his mind.
He lived in a desolate environment that required constant effort. His meals, rest, activities. All planned. Chances are a deadly thing when you're alone.
Yet his mind did not heal from this environment. His mind constantly ripping and hurting itself. He would break down occasionally and cry. His love for family had died and rots away from him. Truly a sad thing."
The man starts recounting an unfamiliar tale to me. Yet it gives me a focus.
"It could be said that he died with his last remaining family member. Isolating himself out of fear. Of death. Of love. Hurting himself in a perpetual cycle of despair.
Until,
A cry heralded out by an unknown. If he were totally 'dead' he would have ignored this, perhaps not even processing it since it's irrelevant. However, curiosity got the better of him.
He directed himself to the source and found a young boy and a boar. Using a tree to outmaneuver the beast, yet unable to lose the boar, the young man fould only hope for it to give up.
The man seeing a moment of heroism took out his hatchet and struck at the boar until it stopped moving."
He approached the boy with no words. Having not spoken in years had left them in his past.
Mute.
The boy trying to engage in conversation, caught on quickly. He followed the man afterwards and tried to engage.
The man was frustrated. Annoyed.
Not because he lost his words.
The boy looked familiar. A whole plethora of emotions and light heartedness.
Something he lost.
Gazing upon his past. An abyss of memory.
He killed himself.
In front of the young boy's eyes.
He fell into the pit."
....
"Lovely story. Think that guy might be in the pile here?"
I say that in a joking manner but, every story of someone falling in.... Can't be.
"Well it is a folk story. The Pit isn't in some forest. Unless it can open underneath anyone's feet. The ending is a bit abstract so there could be more to it... Could be interpreted that he had already fallen from the beginning? The whole story in the mind of an undying husk?"
The man pokes at a corpse's cheek pushing it's head to the side.
Well at least in my hell, I'm not alone.