flash fiction written by Jude Irons

This might sound strange, but dying was always my dream. Whatever waited for me, I couldn’t contain my excitement. Maybe the Christians had it right, and I’d spend my days walking roads paved with gold. What if it was the Egyptians? Anubis would weigh my heart against the feather, and Charon would ferry me down the river of Styx. How exciting would it be if the Hindus figured it out, and I would be reborn as a cockroach or a king? The greatest mystery in human history—the question that kept countless philosophers up all night—where do we go after we close our eyes the final time? I died with a grin as the euthanasia freed me from the excruciating, chronic pain I’d endured for decades, giddy that I’d finally peek beyond the veil.

My heart stopped beating, and blackness enveloped everything. Then, a brilliant whiteness cut through the darkness, and my mind drifted from my body and into the sky. For days, I floated upward, away from the cold, sterile hospital—away from the world I was so desperate to leave behind. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t feel any pain. My body was weightless, and I felt free. When I nearly broke the atmosphere, I looked down at the earth below me, millions of little lights twinkling in the night sky. The sight washed away my old, painful memories as the sun rose over the Earth. Even without skin, I could feel its warmth. I started to descend, and I knew that I had a purpose. The rest of the people like me, still trapped in cages of flesh, deserved this freedom, too.

When I descended back into the hospital, my body was long gone, probably already reduced to ashes and placed in a little box next to hundreds of other forgotten lives. In the bed where I died, a boy lay, his skin melted and deformed, body covered in viscous burns. Nurses had hooked him up to a litany of machines. His eyes had melted from their sockets; his mouth was fused shut—the rest of his life would be nothing but indescribable agony. Why should I be the only one to experience this freedom? Didn’t everyone who suffered like me deserve to drift through the sky, free of pain or hardship?

The boy’s soul bashed against his body, begging to be released. If no one else would save him, I would. My form had some subtle influence over the world; if I concentrated hard enough, I could barely make things budge. I put a spectral hand on his forehead and ran my fingers down his mutilated skin. With some effort, I managed to pry the IVs from his arms. In a few hours, he would join me. We could soar through the sky together, arm in arm.

I left the hospital and continued my search. There had to be others, just waiting to be released from their burdens. Late into the night, when the streets were empty, I found a man standing over the guard rails on a bridge hundreds of feet above the water. His body shook violently, sobbing until his lungs gave out. I watched him with overwhelming empathy. The pain must have been unimaginable, so I slid his fingers off the rails and let him plummet to a better life.

There are still so many more I can save. I can’t describe how much better it is on this side. One day, you’ll join me, too. Make sure to say hello.

Jude Irons is a freelance writer with a love for horror and thriller, especially those on the psychological side. He studied Psychology at the University of California San Diego. Jude lives in San Diego with his family, where you can find him taking long drives down the coast or hikes around the lagoons. His work is featured in Carnage House Publications and the After Dark podcast.

© 2024 tebokkai (CC BY-NC-ND)

Photo credit: Leonardo Yip

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