Greatest Hits

Its a short story i wrote about dying which came to me one day while i was going to university. hope you like it :)

Greatest Hits

 

 

The man in black walked onward, towards whatever lay at the end of this place. He had no idea where he was or whether it was a dream or not or some other worldly nightmare but he kept walking all the same. There was not much to do else in this endless plain.

 

He looked around himself again, not for the first or for the thousandth, still not believing he was wherever this was and still doubting the reality of it. He was in a white room; at least he assumed it was a room, gargantuan in size with no discernible borders anywhere to be found. He imagined that the entire earth could fit in here and he still wouldn’t be able to find it without trying. It was as blank and empty as a piece of white paper and he was thinking whether it was another one of his drug induced dreams but somehow he doubted that was the case. This felt more real, more lucid. All around him, far off into the unimaginable distance he could see the faint outline of the horizon, a small discrepancy between two planes of white which was barely discernible. It was like an optical illusion, easy to miss at first glance but when seeing for the first time it was impossible to UN see it. Nonetheless, he trudged on. No sense of weariness coming over his body except a great mental fatigue, an exhaustion which emanated from the core of his soul.

 

After a little while or maybe no time at all, he couldn’t tell, he saw a speck in the distance. It was a black speck on an infinitely white background. It was a full stop on the page of existence. He walked towards it with renewed vigour, hoping to find answers. 

 

He reflected on his life before this. He still had all of his memories and his mind still worked the way it used to, albeit reluctantly as of late. He was twenty one years old and was not in the best of conditions. He was like a car at a used car lot with a lot of mileage under the wheels, the windshield cracked and the engine making wheezy knocks every couple of minutes when it misfired. His body was not in the best condition, it was malnourished and there were cold sores on his face and a hundred marks on his arm from the drugs. But his mind was in an even worse condition. He was in a nihilistic place in his life, things which used to matter no longer didn’t and he was sometimes amazed how little he cared about how little he cared about. He had become completely apathetic, going through the motions and even then he was going through them with a dull weariness and disregard. He had lost all his friends and he was very miserable.

 

He came upon the figure standing motionlessly, idly moving his hand to the pocket of the jeans he was wearing and taking out a watch to check the time. It was as if he wasn’t in some sort of limbo but idly passing the time outside a movie theatre until his movie started. He was tall, about as tall as the boy (or man as he now thought of himself) and about as skinny. He had short curly hair which grew outwards from his head and made him look like a 70’s pop star. He had that kind of afro. He was wearing a blazer, a white t shirt and faded blue jeans and there was a sly smile on his face, as if there was a joke only he knew and he was waiting for everyone else to get the joke and marvelling that they hadn’t already.

 

As he came up to the other man, he was greeted with a smile and the other’s eyes showed a glint of familiarity which was discomforting. It was as if he was being greeted by an old friend who he didn’t know and he was filled with questions.

 

He asked: Who are you and where am I? His voice hiding a thread of tension and fear but touched with the hard serrated edge of his indomitable rage.

 

The stranger replied “I am an accountant but shouldn’t I be asking who you are and where I am? He said in jest but the humour of the situation escaped the man in black.

He asked again “Stop kidding around. Just where in the hell am I? He said, his voice taking on the tone of command which had worked so well for him in the world before this one.

The stranger looked at him for a long time and said “Don’t take that tone with me boy. But if it sets your simple mind at ease, I will answer your questions.” He finished, still keeping that grin on his face.

A moment passed. The stranger did not offer his identity and the man in black grew irritable. He yelled “aren’t you going to tell me who you are?” he felt himself coming alive again, the coiled serpent of hatred flexing and ready to strike at the man who stood in front of him but he kept it in check. He needed to know where he was.

The other replied curtly, his face showing no sign of the outburst from the man in black. “I am an accountant and I am also Death. I am the Grim Reaper, the great finishing line and he who rings the bell which tolls when a man’s life is over. And as for your other question regarding where we are, we are in the in between. The spaces between worlds and you my friend are in it. And dressed rather poorly for the occasion if I do say so myself.”

A look of blank incredulity crossed the man in black’s face. “You’re Death and you’re an accountant?”

The stranger who called himself Death said “Yes. That’s what I said the first time.” He stopped and still seeing that blank look on the man’s face he went on. “What is Death but the final closing up of a person’s worldly accounts, where the currency is not gold or silver but something worth so much more? At this time a person’s life is judged and depending on the outcome, I judge whether he goes to the great beyond or some place a little warmer.  What? Were you expecting an old skeleton in a hooded cloak wielding a scythe? That’s fine for scaring little kids but to be honest that outfit gets cold in the winter and really itches something fierce down there in the summer. And if you’re wondering what all this is.  This is your greatest hits my friend and you and I are going to listen to the whole album.”

Death went on” This is your life flashing before your eyes and I must say it is a tad dismal and boring. Quite repetitive and I must say rather pathetic. And you’re not a very likeable protagonist, my friend. You whine too much.” He finished, showing that wicked grin again.

The man in black didn’t say anything for what seemed a long time and Death still looked at him, still flashing that benign politicians smile of his. But the man in black knew that behind that benign smile were rows of crocodile teeth and he was afraid. He wanted to get out by waking up safe in his room.

“I can sense your doubt, boy. Perhaps a small demonstration” Death waved his hands and in an instant the white expanse changed and formed into something more familiar.

It turned into his room and as he took in the surroundings, he recognized which memory this was. And in a moment his normally empty emotionless mind filled with a strange kaleidoscope of fear, belief, rage and amazement. He recognized the time due to the school books on the table, that long forgotten Edexcel maths book and he also noticed the old posters he had on his wall. This was the first time he took heroin, the first time he took a ride on that seductive roller coaster of destruction which was both the road to his demise and as he liked to think of it, the only thing worth living for. He watched his face and saw the fear mingled with the excitement as he took the needle in his arm and tried a few times to find the proper vein and he saw himself with shaking hands steadily push the needle in. As the amber poison in the vials filled his veins, he saw reflected in his face the hit of the heroin and he saw himself slip peacefully away into the arms of the addict’s oblivion.

He remembered what happened before his first time taking heroin. He had been cornered the day before by this older student who had developed an obsession with his girlfriend. He remembered the anger he felt when that bully had cornered him behind school with 3 of his buddies and told him in no uncertain terms that unless he left the girl he would “go home in a bag”. He steadfastly refused and gotten his just desserts because of it. He was beaten and bruised and nursing 2 broken ribs by the time they were done but he kept his honour. He didn’t give in. In his mind he had beaten those pathetic losers by not giving in. And yet he felt he didn’t win in a way. This memory was tinged with hatred, cold and vicious, seeping out of the entire scene, the entire memory the way the smell of cigarettes seeps out of the clothes of someone who smokes, always persistent, shrouding the wearer in a toxic miasma. He could feel the bile in his throat, his hatred making itself known and he looked towards Death the accountant. He was idly sitting in a chair, watching him and playing with a pack of cards.

“Not pretty to watch is it? The fall of the great” he said, a tone of bitter sarcasm in his voice.

“Why are you showing me this?” The man in black said, his voice quivering. His confidence beginning to seem like another memory and he was more scared. He didn’t want to face these memories.

“I am showing you this because I want to. You need to see this before you go where you are headed next and besides I kind of like playing with my food” he added.

“Another scene then. Death said.”

The scenery dissolved and reformed in an instant. He was with his friends and yet this too irritated him. He didn’t remember the exact specifics of this memory but he could see the bruise on his face and he knew it was after he was beaten up. He didn’t need to see the scene to know how it ended. He would shrug of his friends attempt at friendship, opting to stay at home and nurse his wounds. He didn’t share what had happened with those older boys and he had no intention to at that time. Sharing would have been a weakness and he was not weak. He had replayed this scene countless times over the last year or so. And truth be told he realized now that he didn’t have friends any more. He hadn’t seen them in months and he found he didn’t miss them. That fire inside him still burned and he could still feel his nerves on edge, his mind going back to that incident. He remembered his friends trying to stop him from doing the heroin but he shrugged them off. He didn’t care about them. He didn’t need them. He had all he wanted.

Death piped up. “Your greatest hits aren’t off to a good start my friend. Maybe I should tell a joke to lighten the mood up a bit.” Death proceeded to tell a joke about a neutron who went to a bar and ordered a drink to which the bartender replied that for the neutron there was no charge. Death found it immensely funny and laughed heartily but the humor escaped the man in black. He had more pressing issues to think about.

“Perhaps another memory then.” Death waved his hands and he was in another of his greatest hits.

This one was too painfully familiar and as he looked and realized where and when it was, old wounds started tearing themselves apart inside him. This was the day his girlfriend broke up with him. The only woman he had ever truly loved. He thought back to how things were between them after the incident. He loved her still, but every time he looked at her he could see his attackers reflected in her eyes and slowly, unconsciously he drifted away from her. Someone else could have said that it was the drugs which he was using more and more regularly but that was not the case. Heroin was a jealous mistress but part of him left her of its own free will. And he realized now looking back that he realized how much he still missed her, how much he missed her laugh and how he had become emotionally cold since then. He was sad enough to cry yet the tears wouldn’t fall.

Death waved wordlessly and the scene shifted to two lovers in the park, holding hands and walking beside a lake and talking the secret talk of lovers. He looked at himself at his happiest moment, his greatest hit and the corners of his mouth turned upward, muscles which had long been set into a painful grimace and turned into an expression that had not been on his face for what felt like forever.

This time the tears came and they were like falling rain to people suffering from a drought. They cleansed him and invigorated him and after he was done god only knows how much later, the man in black turned towards Death. Death was playing a few yards off with a couple of ducks and the scene was oddly comic, the sheer ridiculousness of the Grim Reaper playing with little ducklings made him laugh.

Death looked over and smiled and the man in black smiled back.

In his heart of hearts, a new fire burned and this one was not like the scorching inferno that was his hatred of the world. That fire burned the life out of its owner. No this one was different. This was warm, comforting and he realized it for what it was. It was hope. It was hope for redemption for all the mistakes he had made. For all the friends he had lost and the heart he had broken due to his drug addiction and due to his inner turmoil. Suddenly he saw the past year of his life in startling clarity, the rage and hatred which flowed through his veins like the poison of some snake was covering up an underlying sorrow, the sorrow of losing the only woman he ever loved and he realized that instead of moving on with his life and dealing with it in the proper way, something inside him had shifted and transformed into something darker, like some malignant growth and he had become what he now was. A drug addicted wreck.

He looked at Death the accountant playing with his ducks and realized that this tale was not a dream or a vision or anything like that. This was the real thing. It was not like the Christmas carol where Scrooge ends up saving himself by changing his misanthropic ways. Behind the eyes of Death lurked the eyes of a predator, albeit one who was petting a duckling.

The man in black looked at the accountant on that grassy knoll and neither spoke a word but both understood.

It was time.

Death offered his hand to the man in black and the man took it. The scene dissolved for the last time.

 

The man in black woke up, lying face down in a puddle of his own vomit. His head throbbed as though a thousand bees were buzzing inside it and they were amplified by a million megaphones. He looked around and he saw he was in his room. Slowly his mental faculties came back, his head became a little clearer and the cacophony of noise in his head lessened to a dull throbbing. He remembered swallowing all those capsules in an attempt to kill himself.

 He remembered everything that had happened in his head but like all men raised on logic and psychology, he dismissed it as just a dream. Only this one couldn’t be dismissed so easily. Maybe it had all been a dream, he thought but the end result is the same.

He pulled himself up, his arms like jelly and felt something in his pocket. It was a piece of paper, hard and as he fished around in his pocket, he felt the texture was something alien. Both rough and yet smooth at the same time. He took it out and read it.

“You can’t say you and I didn’t have fun. Normally I don’t do this but something inside you changed at the end and I love to be surprised so I am giving you a second chance. Show me if you still have few good songs in you my friend. Till we meet again when your story ends.”

Your Friend

Death

The man in black got up, cleaned himself up as best he could in the bathroom and put one shaky foot in front of the other and started on the long road to redemption and the rebuilding of his life. The needle marks on his arm ached and he could feel the addiction calling him forth but he knew he no longer needed it. He had hope.

Reviews

[Mia]

This is such an intersting story. It was completely unexpected and I like what you did with it. I love that he got a second chance. I really love the line "Show me if you still have few good songs in you my friend." Drug addiction is such an ugly thing and I'm glad that he has hope at the end and that his hope is greater than the calling of his addiction (as you so poetically put it.) This one is my favourite, great write. There were a couple of typo's...nothing to serious...have a read through it again just to fix it up but other than that! Wonderful story :)

[Zubier_abd]

Thank you for taking the time to read it. i really appreciate it and i will go over it to fix those typos. :)

[Mia]

It was a pleasure to read!