The beginning

A girl finds herself dead after a tragic accident, and led to a world beyond her beliefs.

I won’t go too far into it. . . Did it hurt? Yes. Do I miss a heartbeat, warmth, the sun kissing my cheek, my mother kissing my cheek . . . .? Yes. If I could go back I would, we all would. . .

          It was autumn, my favorite time of the year. I was sixteen, and I and my family had been going on a drive. We were headed to the pumpkin patch; it’s always been my favorite thing to do this time of year.  The leaves coated the road, dampened by the afternoon mist that shadowed its way through the city. Needless to say, the road was slick. It wasn’t a chaotic moment, it was perfectly peaceful, me in the back, my sisters to my side, as I gazed halfheartedly out the window in loud silence. But this time, it didn’t bother me. I invited it, welcomed the peace. Until the turn; it was fast, I will admit that. All at once my sister was screaming, my mother grabbing the wheel; fresh panic smothering her face. She looked at me and what could I do? Let my mother see me suffer as she panicked for her family’s life as well as her own? So, I smiled. I’m not stupid; I knew I wasn’t getting another chance with her. That thought came shortly after the neighboring car crashed into my side, and hit me; just me. I smiled and mouthed that I loved her; and that was that. My world crashed in a thunderous boom, along with the car, while my family made it safely out. Thank god for that.

            But, this isn’t about my life. This is about my death; and all the wonderful, terrible, unexpected things that come along with it. I was welcomed into my new world. Ironically, I call it a world, while the rest of the living calls it purgatory. The color which people take for granted so easily is gone. I appeared in this world, a garden was my first assumption. Geometric trees cut in triangles, swirls, circles, squares, and many other impossible shapes. People were there, they greeted me with smiles and waves. It wasn’t at all what I thought the afterlife would be. Aside from the gloom of black and grey invading my eyesight, the people looked happy, the garden was, from my imagination, breathtaking. A woman perched herself upon a latter, next to one of the formally trimmed trees. She was dressed in gorgeous attire, for her time. I could tell, her confidence was beaming, her skirt placed precisely over her black tights. Her face was a masterpiece to the human eye.  Though despite her arrogant mask, she glanced down to me, and smiled a sweet smile, and watched me watch her. The people here ranged in age, and time period. I could almost pinpoint who passed when I did, and the elaborate shapes of the 19^th century gowns. I longed to see this world in color, though it still amazed my eyes, in pale black and white.

          I continued walking, until I found a building, just outside the garden. The house was brick, with trees, that shed their leaves surrounding it. It was small looking from the outside, small but cozy. The smoke escaping out the chimney top, made you feel as though you should go in, and sit by the warm crackling fire, out of the cool brisk air. The house held no comparison to the attention of the garden, but it did however emit a pleasant welcoming aura. The doors where carved from a handsome piece of what might have been mahogany, with brass curving handles on either side.

       “You may go in, if you’d like. We may be dead, but we don’t bite” a friendly voice squeaked behind me. I turned to cast my eyes on a petite girl, about the same age as I was. She wore a white dress, or so it looked. Her hair was just past her shoulders and, had soft waves. She had wide eyes, which I had only just realized were awaiting my response.

       “Thank you, I think I will.” I muttered, unable to speak, after her beauty stunned me.

          I pulled open the door, and silently felt my mouth drop as I gapped at what I was beholding. The outside of the house appeared small, but once inside, you open doors to a structure so magnificent, there was nothing else for me to do but stare.  The floors where masked by the most extravagant marble I had ever fixed my eyes upon. It had ribbons of dark stone amalgamated into each square foot. The walls made me long for pigment for my vision to feast on. There were paintings lining the walls, featuring everything, both imaginable, and unjust. As you walk on you notice striking woman of all shapes and sizes hanging from their picturesque frames; the ceilings where nothing but hanging chandeliers and glass windows which formed precise domes atop the fortress.

        I had noticed a sign draped over a large double door, which read “Library” in fancy scripture. Capturing my attention, I found myself wondering toward the door, deeper into the palace. Once I clasped my grip on one of the handles, I gently pulled the door open. With a slight creek, I beheld a library beyond comparison to any book store I had witnessed. There were books as far as I could see; fine books, bound in expensive leather, with golden titles sparkling at you, enticing you to crack them open. When I peered closer at the titles, I had noticed something that puzzled me. Every title was names. Of people; and none of the books had an author.

       “They’re people. . . The bewildering lives of the living of course.” Spoke a small framed woman, older than me, but I had guessed not by much.

       “I beg your pardon?” I questioned.

       “Everyone’s lives are in these books. Ranging from the things they do, to the choices they make, to their unexpected end.”  She responded, kind as ever displaying a warm smile.

      “May i?” I pleaded.

       I spent my time curled with a life for the time being. I couldn’t bring myself to find my mother, or my sisters’ lives. I couldn’t bear to see them grieve, or think of how long it would take them to be happy again; and I especially couldn’t read their death. . . . I noticed these books of lives were always changing, like the pages were writing themselves. Which I suppose in a way, they were. I never lost interest, in how amazing other people’s lives could be. It didn’t make me crave life anymore then I already had. It just captured my interest in what I had now.

       As time went on, I met the most interesting people I had ever encountered. I made friends, and explored my never ending purgatory realm. There were seasons, leaves fell, snow blanketed trees, flowers bloomed, and the temperature was unchanging, only the sight was visionary. I grew accustom to the beauty of my surroundings, and even grew used to the lack of color. I always thought of my family though, and the trip to the pumpkin patch, which led me here. . .