I used to say suicide was beneath me; the mere thought of it and I would throw up. But lately, I don't know. I don't really know what to think anymore. It was around 8:15 AM, I guess. The rain was drumming against the windowpane. I exhaled, the last atom of strength draining from my lungs, and whispered, "Today." The word hung in the air, its meaning lost to me, but I didn't try to grasp it.
My steps were heavy, sluggish, as I shuffled toward the refrigerator, knowing it was barren. Another sigh escaped me, a hollow sound in the quiet apartment. My eyes landed on a piece of clothing a black hoodie with faded red stripes. I pulled it on, the fabric a familiar comfort, and walked out the door, down the creaking staircase, and into the street.
The cold immediately embraced me, the rain a relentless battering against my face. I moved slowly, drifting, bumping into passersby without registering their presence. "What the f*ck? Watch where you're going, freak!" a stranger snarled. I didn't react.
The spark, the chi, the soul – for me, it was just a flatline. I didn't care about a thing in the world.
The city, usually a chaotic symphony of horns and shouts, felt muted, distant. I walked with no destination, simply moving, a ghost drifting through a world that no longer seemed to touch me. My eyes, fixed on nothing, occasionally registered the blur of a face, the flash of a taxi, the dull gleam of wet asphalt. They were just shapes, colors, sounds – none of it mattered.
A sudden, sharp cry cut through the drone. It was thin, high-pitched, like a bird caught in a snare. My head, which felt like a block of lead, slowly turned. A little girl, maybe five or six, stood frozen in the middle of a busy intersection, a bright red backpack clutched in her hands. A large, black SUV was barreling towards her, its driver clearly oblivious.
For a moment, nothing happened. My brain, slow and sluggish, didn't process the danger. Then, a flicker. Not a spark, not a flame, but a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor deep inside. It was an old instinct, a faded memory of a time when I cared.
My feet moved before my mind caught up. I was running, a desperate, clumsy sprint, fueled by that single, unexpected tremor. The world seemed to warp around me – the blare of a horn, the shriek of tires, the shouts of bystanders.
The gap between me and the girl closed agonizingly slowly. I could see the terror etched on her small face, the wide, unblinking eyes.
I lunged, my arm outstretched, just as the SUV's shadow consumed us both. There was a sickening thud, a flash of impossible white, and then… nothing. Not darkness, not pain, just a sudden, absolute cessation of everything.
Then, a voice. It wasn't a sound I heard with my ears, but something that resonated directly in the hollow space where my soul used to be. "Not yet," it rumbled, ancient and vast, devoid of emotion, yet impossibly weighty.
A form began to coalesce before me. Not the cloaked skeleton of folklore, but something far more abstract and terrifying. It was a shifting void, a tear in reality, an absence that pulsed with an undeniable presence.
The air itself seemed to crackle with its immense age and purpose. This was not a being to be reasoned with, only to be acknowledged. This was Death.
I felt no fear, only a strange, detached curiosity. The numbness I felt hadn't changed. Why was this happening?
The void shifted again, coalescing briefly into something resembling a tall, gaunt figure, its contours indistinct, yet powerfully there.
It extended a hand, or what I perceived as a hand, towards me. There was no touch, but a profound pull. It felt like being unraveled, thread by thread, from the fabric of the world I knew the next breath I drew was not the stale, polluted air of the city, but crisp, sweet, and imbued with the scent of pine and something else… something wild and unknown. My eyes snapped open.
Above me, a sky I had never seen, painted in hues of deep violet and indigo, with two luminous moons hanging like pearls. Around me, not concrete and exhaust, but towering, ancient trees reaching for the twin moons, their leaves a shade of green that vibrated with an unnatural vitality. The ground beneath me was soft, cool earth, smelling faintly of damp moss. My body felt… different. Lighter, perhaps? Stronger? I pushed myself up, my limbs responding with an unfamiliar ease. The black hoodie with red stripes was gone, replaced by simple, rough spun tunic and trousers. I was no longer just me, empty almost like a void. I was here, undeniably alive, under an alien sky, in a world that sang with life and mystery. The grim emptiness that had shadowed my days was still a recent memory, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a flicker of something new not hope, not joy, but a profound, overwhelming bewilderment. What in the hell had just happened? And where, exactly, was "here"? My hands went to my face. It felt the same, a familiar topography of bone and skin,
yet everything else felt foreign. The air here was alive, humming with an energy that pricked at my senses, a stark contrast to the deadened apathy that had been my constant companion. I tried to recall the moments before this bewildering rebirth. The girl in the street, the oncoming SUV, the sudden lunge. A strange flicker of something – an instinct, perhaps a ghost of my former self – had stirred me from my stupor. Then, the impossible meeting with Death itself. Not a cartoonish figure, but an entity of pure, overwhelming finality. And then the pull, the unraveling, as if my very being was being rewoven into a new tapestry.
Looking around, the strangeness of my surroundings pressed in. The trees weren't like any I'd ever seen; their bark seemed to ripple with faint, internal light, and their leaves were a deeper, more vibrant green, almost luminous in the soft, alien glow of the twin moons. The ground, a mosaic of moss and unfamiliar vegetation, felt cool and yielding beneath my bare feet. Bare feet? My gaze dropped to find my old shoes gone, replaced by what looked like sturdy leather sandals, and the rough spun tunic and trousers I now wore.
My mind, once a sluggish swamp, felt sharper, clearer than it had in months, perhaps years. The apathy, while not entirely vanished, had receded, replaced by a bewildering mix of confusion and a nascent, unsettling curiosity. I was alive. Really, truly alive.
And I was somewhere completely unknown. '' A fresh start '' I mumbled.
A faint sound, like the rustling of large leaves or distant wings, drew my attention to the sky. One of the moons, the smaller, more azure one, seemed to pulsate slightly, casting an ethereal blue hue over the forest. Was this a dream? A hallucination? No, the cool air on my skin, the earthy scent in my nostrils, the very real fatigue in my muscles – this was undeniably real.
What had Death meant by "Not yet"? Was saving that girl the reason? Had my life, so utterly worthless just moments ago, somehow been deemed worthy of continuation in this bizarre, beautiful, and terrifying new reality? I pushed myself to my feet, the ground still soft beneath me. My hands, when I examined them, were calloused in specific places, long and slender, with an unnatural strength. I flexed my fingers, and they moved with a precise, almost predatory grace. A strange weight settled on my hip. Reaching down, my fingers brushed against a leather-wrapped hilt. I drew it out, revealing a dagger, sleek and wickedly sharp, its blade reflecting the twin moon's glow. I knew how to hold it, how to balance it, how to strike. The knowledge was simply there, an unbidden memory. This wasn't just a new world; this was a new body. And this body, I realized with a chilling jolt, belonged to someone who knew how to kill. The precise movements, the silent steps, the innate grasp of the weapon – these were the honed instincts of an assassin. The apathy that had clung to me began to fracture further, replaced now by a rising tide of unease. What kind of life had this body led? And what kind of life was i, now expected to live?.. .
The answers, if there were any, wouldn't be found by standing still. I took a step into the moonlit forest, a journey into the utterly unknown, with nothing but a lingering sense of unreality and a sudden, desperate urge to understand.