His Own Personal Afterlife. Flash Fiction.

Chris looked around, huh, so this is what being dead was like. Overall it wasn’t too bad, if a little boring. He didn’t need food or drink, it wasn’t until he was dead that he realised how much he used those to pass the time. There were no real pressing needs, it was quite nice just dipping in and out of things. It had been awful for the first few days, where he watched them find his body, listened to them grieve. Then he found out he could skip past that, wait until everything was a little less raw. That had been the right call, he was able to skip past all the weird, awkward stuff too. It was about five years after his death, he enjoyed watching everyone, seeing them live their lives. Most had forgotten about him, but that was ok, he hadn’t forgotten about them. He checked in every now and then, looked at the highlights then left them to look in on someone else.

At this point he assumed that it was his own, personal afterlife, after all he watched others die but he had yet to meet anyone else like him. He watched his great aunt Gertrude go, there was a warm glow around her, then nothing. No sign of her at all, though perhaps she just wanted to be alone in death as she was in life. He had searched for other dead people, but there was no one else. He knew he couldn’t be the only living dead person, there was nothing strange or unusual about him, no reason why he would stay while everyone else left. Perhaps there were just millions and millions of different dimensions and each dead person got their own little space to watch from.

As time moved by he began to wonder what would be next, this couldn’t be his life now, it would have to end sooner or later. He didn’t know why he believed that, but he had a sense that it would all end eventually. Perhaps he would move on to some heaven or hell, or when he went into the light he’d open his eyes and find himself as a newborn. It was all very confusing and difficult to think about, and there was no manual or anyone to guide him. So he went about his pseudo life, looking down at the people he loved, watching them live out their lives. Soon the ones he had known were gone and he found himself watching their children and grandchildren, like some kind of reality TV show he couldn’t turn away from.

There was nothing to forecast the change, one day he just knew that it was coming and coming soon. He was getting tired, which was something he didn’t know was possible. He didn’t have any energy to spend, how could he be tired? But it was there all the same. Then it happened, one moment he was there, watching over them, the next he was gone. The change was sudden, but in the darkness it felt like millennia were passing. He was excited for something new, what ever came next, but there was no light, no beckoning voice or call of trumpets. Just the darkness stretching before him.

About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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