Splunker’s The Cat Productions

Slowly, as if waking from a heavy sleep a blurry world illuminated by blue light appeared before Richard Cullen. The torrent of memories regarding his last moments alive suddenly washed over him. He sat up inhaling deeply realizing he had forgotten to breathe. As his lungs pulled in a gout of air he could feel most of it pass through the holes in the back of his neck. As he exhaled he felt a chunk of flesh pull free in the back of his throat. It caused him to choke and he hunched over sputtering.

He calmed himself. That was something he was always good at. He closed his eyes tight as thoughts began drifting through his head. He recalled the feeling of the bullet passing through his mouth and he tentatively reached behind his head and felt of the two mismatched holes on either side of his neck. Even as he probed one of them with his fingertip he could feel the wound shrinking slowly. He swallowed, a reflex from coughing. He could taste blood in his mouth. He slowly opened his eyes again. His breathing was coming more naturally now. He looked around to survey the afterlife that he seemed to have awoken in.

A small town stretched out in one direction. The buildings were all made of a dark blue stone polished smooth and carved into bricks. The architecture varied wildly from building to building however. The first he noticed appeared to be built like some ancient roman structures like he’d seen in movies and history textbooks. Further beyond that he could spot buildings from all cultures and creators. He wondered momentarily who had built them. The small hovel he could see clearly had a flickering light shining through the single visible window. He could also see a tall building with a dome at the top. It was solid stone as far as he could tell from there, but it stuck out against the skyline of smaller less interesting structures. Flickering in the distance he could make out a red neon sign that flashed “Cold Ones” at him appearing shockingly stark through the blue darkness that seemed to permeate this place he’d come to.

Confused he looked forward to see what was ahead of him. It appeared to be a large gate. The gate itself was very plain. It was made of the same polished blue stone. It was tall and arched with black bars coming down to the ground where he sat. There was no wall connected to the gate. On either side of it he could see nothingness sprawl out infinitely into the distance. He was reminded of staring into the night sky, but there were no stars. Just as he thought about it stars began blinking into existence in the curtain of blackness beyond the gate. His eyes drifted back to the earth where he was. He followed an invisible line from where he was to where the blackness started. The ground just seemed to stop letting the engulfing void spread out beyond the stone.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He tried to speak out loud if nothing more than to hear something.

“Where is this place?” His voice was cracked and raspy. He assumed it had something to do with choking on chunks of his own throat.

“This is the Gate to the afterlife.” A deep voice echoed through his mind.

Startled he looked up and noticed someone standing next to the gate before him. There was a wooden podium there. Nothing remarkable about it, except maybe the bronze hourglass relief on the front of it. He then stared long and hard at the person supposedly addressing him.

The person had to be at least six feet tall. He towered over his podium wearing a sleek looking black suit. The undershirt was also black, but there was no tie. At first this struck Richard as bizarre but this was before his mind could acknowledge that the figure before him didn’t have a head. He stared shocked at the sight of this six-foot tall headless man. His eyes focused on the exposed back bone poking out through the red flesh. He was speechless.

He sat there for some time. Before he shook himself out of it. He averted his gaze focusing instead on the hourglass podium.

“Wha- what’s happening? Where am I?” He stuttered.

He noticed movement out of his peripheral vision the gate keeper was moving around the podium. Richard stared at his feet. They were clad with alligator skin shoes.

“As I have already stated, this is the Gate to the afterlife. You have died in the mortal realm and now you are here. Shall you except your fate and move on into the eternity that awaits you?” The voice was very well spoken and articulate. The way it echoed through his head Richard thought it would give him a headache.

“Wha- Afterlife? I get to choose where I go? What about all that heaven and hell stuff? Whe-”

“Where’s God? That is none of my concern. Gaze through the gate. If you believe you deserve “heaven” you will see what you consider to be so. If you believe you should be sent to “hell” for the life you lived then you will behold your eternal punishment.”

Watching his shoes he could see the gate keeper turn back towards the gate slightly. Richard looked up and saw that he was pointing towards the gate. He stared through the bars into the void.

“Your destiny awaits. What do you see?” The Gatekeeper asked.

Richard swallowed reliving in his head his final moments alive once again. He tried to swallow away the blood taste in his mouth to no avail. Deep inside he expected to see his parents again. To see the loved ones he’d lost when he was a kid. Another part of him thought that was very cliché and hated it. He didn’t believe he’d ever done anything worthy of eternal punishment. He wasn’t ever the most chaste or moral person, but he never stole anything he didn’t need, or killed anyone or anything like that.

“I don’t see anything.” He responded after a time sensing that the Gatekeeper was getting impatient.

“Very well. Turn your back on the gate for now. Enter into the town of lost souls. Join with those who are unable to find freedom from the mortal plane. If you should find yourself ready to move on I will be here waiting to open the gate.”

“Who are you anyway?” He turned to look at the Gatekeeper as he asked but the figure int he expensive looking suit had vanished. Along with his podium. Slowly Richard climbed to his feet. He staggered a bit at first. Rubbed his arms realizing he was still dressed as he was when he had died. He suddenly felt cold from the waist up. The hem of his jeans dragged against the stone ground as he slowly put one unshod foot in front of the other moving towards the red neon sign proclaiming “Cold Ones” down the road ahead of him.

Maybe he’d be able to find some answers there…

This entry was posted on July 4, 2009 at 5:01 am and is filed under Uncategorized with tags afterlife, death, decapitation, Fiction, Horror, merchant, Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.