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Recycled

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium
Death is not a full stop but a comma

Submitted: November 06, 2018

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Submitted: November 06, 2018

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You know when your dead, you just do. It feels weird!

So, I hear you ask, what’s it like being dead? Well, it’s like dreaming, but real. Let me explain. When you dream, you don’t remember your life before the dream. The dream is what is real to you at that particular time. It’s only when you wake up do you realise you were dreaming.

Does that sound a bit too philosophical? Sorry. But its true. I don’t remember anything about who I was before. Was I a good person or was I a bad person? You tell me. But I do know I’m a young woman. I may be dead, but I’m not blind!

Also, I don’t remember dying. I don’t remember being ill or being in an accident or worse, murdered.

So, why I’m I telling you all this. Well, its going to happen to us all one day, sooner or later. I was just sitting here in this large room with a load of other people and I thought maybe a heads-up might be beneficial to some of you. Besides, I like to talk when I’m nervous because I haven’t a clue to what is going to happen next.

As I just mentioned, I’m sitting here in a large room. It’s a bit like one massive doctor’s waiting room. Although maybe that description is less than appropriate, considering that the help of a doctor is well beyond us all now.

There are two rows, my row and the one opposite me. To my right, the rows go on infinitely while to my left they seem to stop at a door. The door has something written above it, but from this distance it seems a bit hard to read.

Periodically, I move along the row. I don’t how because I haven’t shifted from my seat since I got here. However, I seem to be getting nearer the door. I strain to see what it says above it. But no, I still can’t make it out. But it looks like one word.

I have moved again, quite a bit this time. The door is well in sight now and I can read that word. Also, there is now a lady handing out leaflets. She is not going all the way down the rows only to those who are getting near the door.

I must be at the end of her range because she doesn’t go beyond where I sit. I take a look at the leaflet which is entitled, ‘So, Your Dead. What Happens Next?’ underneath the title is a picture of a lady consoling someone.

I turn over the leaflet and it first says how sorry they are, that we are here and it hopes that the leaflet will be a help to us in our transition as we are allocated our new earthly bodies. Then it goes on to say how souls are in great demand since the cutbacks and although eternal sleep is the souls reward after death, our decision to be repatriated back into new life on earth is a great sacrifice that is much appreciated.

Personally, I don’t remember being asked while alive if I minded going around a second time. But then again, I wouldn’t remember would I. Well it looks like my turn next to go through the door and a chance to start over again.

It's been nice chatting to you. Pity I wouldn’t remember any of it. Oh! the name above the door, Recycled!  


© Copyright 2018 Markie Bee. All rights reserved.

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