Prologue

This prologue serves as a frame for the rest of the book, introducing one of the first horrible events that lead to Zoey Graham's eventual brush with Death.

Mom’s armed snaked around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her side. I could hear her deep breaths as we walked down the aisle of the white-walled church. The pews seemed to move in a slow, confusing blur. In fact, everything from the past few days seemed to be a blur at this moment. It was the casket, standing out from all the fuzziness, which remained perfectly clear. Its wooden frame glimmered in the colored light shooting down from the stained glass windows. My heart dropped as I saw the deep red lining.

 I felt my mom’s grip tighten. At this point, time had stopped, and everything came back like a speeding bullet. All the terrible memories flooded their accustomed places in my mind, and that terrible morning that happened days ago seemed to playback instantly. The fight he and I had, and how the cause of it seemed so insignificant now. Then the call after he left, accompanied by a hospital trip that lingered with feelings of dread. Finally, the horrid news that the doctor told us. Those memories halted my body, and time sped back up. Mom stopped with me, and her voice was soft as she whispered.

“We’re almost there, don’t stop now.” Her words brushed the depths of my heart. They burned into my brain, giving the command to step forward. I was being pushed by my own mind. My heart’s quickening beats cried for me to stop, but I continued walking up to the casket. Even when the paleness of his face shined bright against the red lining, my legs still kept moving.

            Stop! Wailed my heart as his blue suit came into view. Don’t go closer! My eyes watered, and my chest ached from the tension of my heart. When we stopped, the casket was right in front of us. The frail state of my being was ignored and I unwillingly scanned over the white body laying peacefully, eyes closed as if he was sleeping. The morticians made him look radiant and managed to cover most of his stitched head wound. Although the idea seemed preposterous, a shrivel of hope remained that he’d miraculously revive himself.

            Zoey, what’s going on? I imagined him asking me. How did I get here? But, he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t ask me where he’d been or how he’d ended up in a casket. His lifeless body still lay limp, and his eternal slumber was not disturbed. The wretched thought that he had left this world sank in. Dad was gone, and I wanted him back.

            A tear escaped my eye and slowly slid down my cheek. My arm came up and wrapped around my mom, and I hugged her for the first time since the incident. I faced away from my dad and closed my eyes, feeling more tears break through the crumbling, emotional barriers that had remained intact for so long. Mom’s grip loosened and I looked up at her. Her eyes were glassy as she brought her hand to my face, wiping away my tears and running her hand through my long, black hair. She searched my face, almost like she was studying the sadness that suddenly fell over me. Her lips, which seemed to be frozen in a frown, parted and spoke, “He’s in a better place sweetie, he’s in a much better place…”

Her words trailed as she hugged me tightly again. I buried my face in her black overcoat, and more tears dribbled free. I couldn’t look at my dad anymore. Those few glimpses of him had turned my stomach upside down and my heart inside-out. All the emotions now, and the memories of the day that happened so little time ago, were taking their final tolls on my soul. And my mind, which had raced with so many questions in the past few days, had finally been left with just one: Why Death?

Author's Note

The length of this prologue does not reflect the length of the chapters following it, so please do not let it discourage you from viewing any of the currently posted chapters.