The ornate feather quill was crushed in his grip, and the bottom of the inkwell had smashed the point flat due to his frantic and bullish attempt to write on the scroll. Fingers trembling, he scratched the letter “I” onto the scroll. The rest of the sentence didn’t appear as he pressed down. Dipping the quill over and over, John added more ink, but it did nothing to remedy the situation.
“So, the answer isn’t “I hate you for making me jump through these hoops”? Fine, that makes sense. Three words? I’ll get it. I am not walking blindly around this stupid field, stubbing my toe into every freaking rock you laid out for me, anymore! I am not doing it, and your stupid little breeze can’t make me! I am going to stand here write every word I can think of until I figure it out and then I’m coming for you!”
As you can imagine, the keeper of all souls doesn’t like to be threatened, so that little breeze picked John up and hurled him a mile away from the podium. This, more than anything, was to make a point to him, which was that while he may have a new-found sense of purpose, there was one being truly in charge here and it wasn’t John. Each stubborn step back was fueled by anger and loss. The minute he would get cocky, the wind would pick up just enough to knock him flat on his ass.
John fought harder in this place to get back to that podium than he had collectively in his entire 45 years on Earth. By the time his fingers were curled around the quill again, his rage had changed from a boil to more of a simmer. The thing about anger is that it blinds you. He needed to calm down so that he could think again. While he was sure he could have an eternity to figure out the words that were necessary to move on, he was also sure that he had no interest in taking an eternity. Attempting to write every word in the English language would take just that, an eternity.
This meant that he would have to figure out what the lesson could be. When he had yelled into the void that he wouldn’t be searching for the other stones, he had meant it. So, that was not an option. Anyway, he had the first word. “I”. Three words that starts with “I”.
Of course, the first thing he tried was “I love you”. It is hokey and cheesy, and most definitely wrong. After a hundred or so equally wrong sayings, John opted for a more organized approach to figure out the second word. Dipping the quill again and again, he wrote “a”... “b”... “c”… until one of the letters appeared. He was surprised that it was an “s”. What word could he possibly be looking for that started with an “s”?
Attempt after attempt was rejected. Part of him wanted to figure it out, to magically have an epiphany moment where it all becomes very clear. The other part didn’t care and just wanted to be done with this nonsense. That was the part that won. He started scrolling through the alphabet again. “A”... “b”... “c”. There it was, “I sc”. Scrolling again. “A”... “b”… all the way to “r”. “I scr”...
“Nice.” He was having the epiphany moment, and he didn’t find it enlightening or funny.
His finished the sentence. “I screwed up”.
Now, he was off to figure out whether that meant himself, or God.
Quite the Amusement
Have you ever sat and watched a cat lay on its back, sunning itself in the beam of light that peeks in through the crack between the curtains? John was sprawled out like that cat, except he was a human so he was able to pull the curtains back and allow that beam to grow big enough to warm his whole upper body. The few Saturdays right before spring would officially be considered sprung were made for lounging around watching whatever show had the most seasons on demand. You could kill an entire day doing nothing but vegging, and occasionally getting up to go to the bathroom.
John had long moved a small fridge into his living room so he could cut his inconvenient food and drink breaks down and maximize his viewing time. The pick of the day was a story about college students with magical powers fighting each other for the ability to reign supreme in the magical universe. For someone who hardly ever had an adventure himself, John enjoyed no other genre better than that of fantasy. He could live out the excitement he longed for without leaving the safety of his home. John was, after all, a cautious man.
And so, it was with a hint of irony that, one day, his next-door neighbor Danielle forgot where she was for just a second and lit a cigarette. Normally, that would have little effect on anyone’s life, but Danielle’s boyfriend happened to be running a meth lab out of their garage, causing her to absent mindedly set off an explosion that would kill three people and injure two more that day. Danielle and her boyfriend were killed instantly, and their two helpers were wounded severely. What the fire department and police missed when they arrived at the scene was the other victim.
John had been lounging on the most comfortable, albeit the most dangerous, part of his couch. Had he been but a mere few inches to the right or left, he would be shaken up, but still alive. But alas, no, poor John was seated in the perfect spot for the chain reaction that would claim his life. The explosion that had blown apart the next-door neighbor’s garage rocked the houses around it so powerfully that it blew a few of their windows out. The window that John was sunning himself with was one of those windows.
Shards of glass exploded in towards John, and while most caused small, yet painful, cuts, one had managed to lodge itself in his upper thigh. There, it sliced through his femoral artery. In an attempt to find something to put pressure on the geyser of a wound, John tripped over his own two feet and fell over the coffee table. Sadly there he lay, bleeding out on his shag carpet floor, too weak from the loss of blood to do much but scream for the help that would never come.
The fire department and police took seven minutes to respond to the scene, but that was a full three minutes past John’s time of death. They wouldn’t discover his body for another 45 minutes, when the chief sent the volunteers around to check the damage to the surrounding houses and see if there was anyone in need of assistance. Small towns do not see tragedies such as this on a regular basis, so they weren’t sure of the exact protocol.
While they sat on Earth, arguing over how these things should be handled in the future, John had already moved on from his body towards the next, or should I say, next and last plain of existence, for John was abruptly awoken a small pod shaped capsule. His eyes strained to adjust to the now overly bright room around him. His senses were flooded with smells and sounds like that of an amusement park. Another capsule was opening right next to his, and Danielle was being helped up by an overly eager teenage boy.
“Come on asshole!” She shouted over the music at him. “We need to get in line for the next ride, unless you want to double back and do this one again.”
“Wait up!” John collected his wallet and coat before racing after her.
Danielle was always one step ahead of him, sometimes even more. When they had first started dating, John was afraid he would never be able to keep up with her never-ending source of energy, but eventually he learned to just buckle up and hold on. She was the yin to his yang, as cliché as that was. He was calm and collected, she was excited and adventurous. He kept her grounded and she helped him fly. Today was just another one of her adventures that he had gone along with to be near her.
Her pull over John was unexplainable. His family and friends, at first, had no idea why he would want to be around someone whose core personality seemed to be in direct conflict with his own. As more time passed, they were pleasantly surprised by the changes she brought to his life. She brought changes to his life, not to him, because she loved John wholly for who he was and not as some pet project that was there until she got bored with whatever she created.
“Why did you kill me off like that?” He wheezed.
“Not my fault. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that when you go into those things together you go out at the same time? It was bound to happen. At least we managed to go out with a bang!”
“Yeah, I guess. You don’t ever do subtle. If I had known,
I would have moved as soon as I saw your face.”
“Well, we could always go back in for another round. You could be my arch-nemesis. We could spend a lifetime tracking each other down. See who manages to set off the double kill.”
“Only you, Danny.”
“What? You know it would be fun. We could have them skip the kid stuff, and move straight into adulthood on some insane espionage mission. They have premade packs, so we can just jump right back in.”
“Yeah, all of that choose-your-own-adventure stuff in the beginning seemed a lot like homework.”
“Two more months, John, and the only homework we will ever see is that of our kids.”
Flustered and blushing, he suddenly forgot how to walk. She turned and giggled at his misstep, but didn’t slow down for a second.
“Kids? You want kids now?”
“Not now, silly,” she giggled, “but someday. Maybe with you, if you can keep up. After college, I am taking off.”
“Where to?”
“Not where, John. Well, not a geographic where. I am headed straight to the top. I have plans. I know you are more relaxed about this stuff, but I don’t have the time. You have to go and grab life by the balls, and that is what I plan to do. But for tonight, let’s forget about all that. Come on. Let’s get back on the ‘Life’ ride. I want to go around one more time before they close.”
“Fine by me,” he smiled. Every minute with her would have to be enough, so he stopped worrying about tomorrow and learned to enjoy today. “You still want to be spies?”
“Nah, let’s go fall in love on an island somewhere. Someplace warm and sandy with free drinks.”
“We could do both.”
“Now that is a genius idea. I swear John, every once in a while, you really surprise me. Who knew you had it in you?”
The Revolving Door
Retail hours tend to drag by, especially during the slow months. The only exception is during the holiday season, when retail workers around the world feel like they are being thrown into a pit of lions for hours on end. The January and February days drag on like a kid getting ready for school in the morning while he is hoping to somehow avoid going. Even though he was let out earlier than he used to be in December, it was always pitch black by the time John was hitting the road to head home.
All John ever wanted to do during the colder months was curl up and hibernate for a few weeks. Chores would always fall behind this time of year as John opted to ignore them for the siren call of his bed and the warm hug of his blankets.
The funny thing is that all the bear wanted to do was hibernate, too. Unfortunately, John’s obnoxiously loud stomping while he climbed up the stairs woke the poor bear up. For the last week or so, John had stared at that dark pile under his porch as he passed it by, assuming it was a garbage bag that had fallen out of the can.
Instead, John’s laziness had allowed the bear to wake up without him noticing and sneak up behind him. Bear hugs are often a display of affection, however, this hug was anything but. His landlord could hear the screams, but there was nothing she could do. The bear was too large, she was too small, and she had no idea how to use the old shotgun mounted above the fireplace. All she could do was call 911 and hope they could get here in time to save him.
The bear ripped John apart with his claws and tore into him with his giant jaws. Red blood flowed out covering more of the driveway than any person who has never seen a mauling would ever believe could be possible.
The police officer jumped out of his car and immediately fired at the beast, but it didn’t react to the first few impacts. The officer knew from first sight that the man being attacked had already passed, but it was his job to save any other citizens in the area that could be harmed by the man eater. So, he shot the bear, and while he felt justified in doing so, he was not proud of it.
The officer had always liked bears, and he knew John from high school. He was sure that the fat chump had somehow brought this on himself. The bear on the other hand was most likely minding his own business, laying around waiting for spring to come so he could shag a few she-bears. Now, not only did he have a dead classmate and bear to deal with, but a bunch of paperwork to do as well. Ridiculous. He had known this shift was going to end on a sour note, and there was nothing more sour than this disgusting mess on a freezing cold and poorly lit driveway.
Backup arrived after he had already dispatched the bear, however they were just in time to keep the crowd that was forming at bay. Now if he could manage to collect any cell phone footage as evidence, and hopefully prevent it from ending up all over the news and social media, that would be fantastic. It was a pipe dream though, because there was no way that some punk kid didn’t manage to get the whole thing on tape and head straight home to auto-tune him yelling at the bear to freeze. The other officers were never going to let him live it down if that happens. Grumbling, he walked down the line of freshly hung police tape, looking for anyone who stood out as overly excited to get a close-up.
The rest of the department arrived, as they do anytime anything happens in a small town, and he was sent on his way. The officer managed to stay at the scene a full thirty minutes after John, who had already headed out of his body and off to the great beyond. The great beyond was less ethereal and more mass transit bus. Stepping on, he noticed the lack of stickiness on the floor and a pleasant rather than uniquely pungent smell that only public transport travelers can describe with any clarity.
The bus may have been clean, but those on it were not. One woman was missing half of her face, but didn’t seem bothered by that fact in the slightest. There were elderly people that looked like small-framed zombies and a man bloated as if his body had soaked up all the water in the universe. John wondered what he must look like, as a bear can destroy the body of a man, but he decided against looking in the glass window beside him to check his reflection. Some things are better left unknown.
The bus was missing the ever-important driver, and people popped in and out without any real stops. Suddenly, he would have a new companion next to him, and then without warning, they would disappear to wherever it was that spirits go. The coming and going became routine, and even the horrific condition that the bodies were in quickly lost its shocking effect. Just as his eyes began to close, slumping comfortably against the window, John was dropped off at his destination.
Bright white light blinded him, and the transition was so abrupt that his eyes didn’t have the ability to even attempt to adjust. Closing his eyes gave him no relief... the light burnt straight through his lids. Shuffling feet could be heard in every direction, but he was unable to see how many others were near him. The best he could do was drop his head, keep his eyes closed tight, and follow along with the movement of the crowd.
There they were, one giant wave of souls, shuffling and dragging along an endless path to a destination that had never been made known to them. This long walk went on until John was both sore in every fiber of his being, and numb to the fact that he existed anymore. Every thought had been thought, and every emotion had been felt. He walked along in the crowd until he was no longer John, but just a click and scrape on the ground below him. Then, without warning, he was transported back to a window seat on the bus. Relief flooded John’s whole being, so much so that it was the purest emotion he had ever felt. There were no other feelings, not anger at being forced to walk, nor sadness that his life had ended, just John being completely in that moment, relaxed and recharging.
This time, John was very aware of the comings and goings of the people around him. He wanted to tell them of the horror that was waiting for them, but wasn’t sure if they were better off not knowing. How could he even explain it anyway? Words wouldn’t explain the pain that you felt, at least not with any real accuracy, and they would laugh at the idea that a walk in a crowd was a post-life nightmare.
A small girl, no older than eight or nine, appea
red next to him, and his heart sank. No child should be subjected to the experience he just had endured, but before he could reach out to her and try in his own clumsy way to comfort her for what was to come, he was transported off the bus again.
No blinding light was waiting for John this time, but there was an overload of smells, and surprisingly, most of them smelled good. People were bustling around him in a quaint town square. Cobblestone streets converged like spokes of a giant wheel to the point where John was standing. At his back was a post sticking straight out of the center with a worn wooden sign on top. “Redolence Reach” was carved in ornate calligraphy.
Cinnamon. Out of all the smells, cinnamon began to overpower the rest. Spicy and sweet, John was drawn back into his childhood memories where he would shove handfuls of the tiny red candies into his mouth, always trying to beat his personal best of 24, but never being able to handle any more than that. The bite of cinnamon was pushed into the background by the crisp aroma of freshly cut grass. His mother had pushed him into a summer job as a teenager under the threat of never being able to purchase another video game without a little hard work.
He ended up cutting grass and walking dogs that summer, but only when she would really push him. He had been at that awkward age between being too old to be coddled but too young for the traditional workforce. Roasting peanuts brought him to the local flea market, looking for cheap treasures. The sour stench of garbage brought fear, then he remembered the bear and began to panic. Unable to catch a full breath, his eyes sprung open and he was able to see the square again.
The people were still there, and thankfully the bear was just in his memories. Those around him continued to rush back and forth, seemingly unaware to his existence. The sky was an unusual shade of light green. He hadn’t noticed before because he had been sucked into the dream-like state by the scents swirling around him. But now that his eyes were open and his head was clearer, he could see the slight differences in this place compared to his home.
The Many Afterlives of John Robert Thompson Page 12