So, I have been working on a book (well, I have been working on a few books, but this one I plan to actually finish in the near future). And I decided I will release parts of it here on my blog so I can get some feedback as I work on it. It is still in its early drafts, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless, or tell me to stop if it truly is awful. I expect any feedback to be honest, thank you.
John Tames, Age 30, Deceased
by Kim Lindquist
This. Is. Torture. I told them explicitly I did not want a funeral. I told them to put me in the ground, pile the dirt high, and be done with it. But no.
All these people here. Most of them I haven’t spoken to in years. By choice. I cannot stand half of them. But of course they all have kind, flowery memories to share. Funny, I remember it all a bit differently.
Ugh, Mrs.Jones? I mowed your lawn for one summer, fifteen years ago! She was old then, she’s got to be ancient now. Our places ought to be reversed.
But I’m being rude. Allow me to introduce myself. John Tames. Age thirty. Deceased.
At least someone was kind enough to pick out a decent coffin. The lining here is dark, maroon velvet. Soft. Well, I think it’s soft. It’s been hard to really feel things since I flatlined.
What surprised me the most was how long it took all the natural senses to shut down. Sight, then taste, smell, touch. Sound has yet to go. Once my heart stopped beating, I began to process things differently. I can’t twitch a finger (I’ve tried), but I still know what is going on. It has all been rather odd to be honest.
Everyone talks about the afterlife. Heaven. Hell. Rebirth. Ceasing to exist altogether. That is not how it has worked out for me thus far. I’m just here.
What’s that? Everything is a bit muffled through the padding. Oh. The violin. It must be Gracie. My goodness, she’s improved since last I heard her play.
We’re lurching now. They must be lowering the casket. And, thud, flat on the ground. Something lands loudly above me. Again. Again. They must be shoveling the dirt on. Finally.
Hmm. I can’t hear anything now.
Well this is a predicament. I hadn’t thought ahead to this point. I suppose I expected something spectacular to happen.
This is going to get old fast.
Maybe you can help me. I’ve never been much of a talker, but someone ought to know the whole story. It will pass the time at least. So here we go.
The story of my life…