Crazy as a Loon in a Puppet Play

the dead speak

Crazy as a Loon in a Puppet Play (Language warning)

 

I’m in a living nightmare. I think I went mad, or at least I hope so. If I’m not experiencing a delusional episode through my madness, then this mind-f**k that I’m in is real, not some psychotic episode that I truly wish it to be. Let me start from the beginning. My tormentors demand I recite my plight to the row of bulging eyes staring at me. They read my thoughts, so I don’t need to speak, but they want to hear my side of things before they make a judgment.

Please, God, let this not be real.

 

It all started when I sat down to write a short flash piece for the Flash Frenzy challenge that the Writing Forums hosted. It is a writing site I’m a member of.  As I finished the piece, I felt a weird sensation. I was falling into a vortex of sorts. It's like I entered the twilight zone. I blacked out, and when I came to, I was lying on my floor stone cold dead.

 

Looking down at me over my dead body was Death or one of his reaper assistants

digging in my body with a sickle, trying to rip my soul out. Even though I was dead, I was terrified as The Death thing screamed at me to let my spirit release my soul from its spirit box. My spirit refused, even though I pleaded with it to do so. The reaper ghoul picked my dead body up and threw me in a holding cell reserved for miscreants and bad seeds who refused to give up their souls.

 

I hope I’m not dead lying in this cell but in some deluded state. I’d even be happier in a nut house wrapped in a strait jacket, raving like a lunatic drooling all over myself than being where I am now. This can’t be real, please don’t let it be real, but my spirit’s telling me it is.

 

Now you or whoever is reading or hearing this may wonder if I’m dead how can I speak or write or whatever the hell this is? Well, my spirit is still alive. I’m communicating through the spirit that keeps my soul locked in its box. It has a mind of its own but lets me have independent thoughts. It says it’s not ready for the big death. I wholeheartedly agree with it. Once they have my soul, my spirit and physical body will forever be severed from it. They would then wither and turn to ash.  My soul would then be judged and sent to one of the netherworlds. I and my spirit were not yet ready for that.

I screamed at those bulging eyes to reveal themselves.  It was unnerving to see a bunch of glowing eyes staring at you. I felt like a piece of meat they wanted to eat. To my shock and surprise, those six glaring eyes were none other than The Angel of Death, Lucifer, and an old man who looked like Gandalf. You got it, God. If I could’ve pooped my pants, I would have. It was the Angel of Death who first spoke, IT said,

 

“No Shortcuts”.

 

I was bewildered and in a tiny voice said, “No shortcuts to what?”.

 

” Immortality, you fool, your spirit knows damn well by keeping the soul locked up in the spirit that spirit and your physical essence cannot decay and die. It wants us to grant it immortality. That is only reserved for a select few, and you’re not one of them.”

 

Death explained to me that I was my consciousness, it was the spirit that housed my soul and my consciousness. You could say I was the engine to the soul. Death said I needed to command the spirit to release the soul, which was in essence myself, from the spirit box. Spirit was pleading with me not to do it. It said immortality was preferable to any of the worlds in the Netherlands. It confessed that it was the spirit who gave me a heart attack so that I could die and face the Trinity of Ultimate Judgments.  It said being a friend of Lucifer warranted me to be judged by the Ultimate Three.

 

I freaked out and burst out, “How the hell am I a friend of Lucifer, the Devil itself?

 

It was Lucifer who answered, IT said, “I enjoy your writings about my journeys about my struggles. You are my shadow puppet where I and those who follow me act as your muse. Although saddened by your death, the vote was two to one, God and Death voted no to immortality. Unfortunately, that means we have to incinerate you, you will cease to exist.”

 

As you can imagine, I and spirit were beside ourselves or myself or whatever the hell we were.  But I came up with a Hail Mary and said, “How about letting me go back in my room and undo my heart attack? Spirit and I promise to let Death take our soul fifteen years from now. You all know that incinerating me will disrupt the universal continuum. Who knows what will happen? Undoing my death is the safe bet.”

 

This time it was God who said, “I have issues with the way you portray me in your writings, but I will grant you this boon, begone from my sight for now.”

 

The next thing I knew, I was back in my room, alive and well, and pressing send to this flash piece you are reading now. It happened; I think. It felt so real, I hoped it was real because then I knew I had another fifteen years on this planet. Plus, I met Death, Lucifer, and God. Wow. Forgive me for calling them ITS. Giving them sexual identities does them an injustice.

 

I’m going to portray God more favorably. And when the time comes, we’ll ask for another vote. We lied. We want to live forever…

 

 

 

 

  

 

Author's Note

let it rip