The Final Chapter (afterlife story)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is an afterlife story I have written on one of my views of a possible afterlife. Enjoy! :)

Submitted: August 03, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 03, 2012



The Final Chapter


Before entering the afterlife I am asked to choose my favourite book and my favourite character in the book. It isn’t long winded or complicated I simply answer the question as honestly as I can and then, poof, my afterlife has commenced.


I look down at myself as the feeling that something’s very different overwhelms me. My legs are longer; my clothes have changed from a backward hospital gown to muddy jeans and a plain beige T-shirt. Pivoting slowly around, I notice the winding white corridors of the bustling hospital have been replaced with never-ending valleys and hills, rolling out before me as far as my eyes can see. Suddenly, I realise that the book talk wasn’t merely idle chat but fundamental. I am in my favourite book as my favourite character.


As the reality – or lack of it as the case may be – sets in I start wonder whether my choice was wise. Sure, the character was strong, brave, valiant and brilliant to read about, making the book a real page turner. But he experienced extreme pain, constant heartbreak and stomach gnawing worry. Pain, heartbreak and worry I will now feel as him: pain, heartbreak and worry that made the book exciting and thrilling to read, but not to experience.


As though to prove me right a thick plank of wood whacks me full on the side of my head. My legs give way beneath me, the whole world wobbles in a grey light as my brain smashes against my skull and I scream an agony filled scream.


The worst thing, I now realise as I fall to the dry ground, is that my story is already written cover to cover. I will know what’s coming but I’m powerless to change it. My afterlife is set in stone and I am no longer me. I’m a mere copy of a figment of someone’s imagination. I’m no longer special: I’m no longer unique. And I am this way until my story is finished and the final page turned.


With these morose thoughts whizzing around my throbbing head, I black out...

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