Uncharted

The last thing I remember was stepping off that bridge. The last thing I heard were the horns blaring below me, growing louder as I fell. Almost like they were cheering me on, like you’d cheer for a professional diver getting a perfect score.

My score was far from perfect, though, as my insides painted the street. It truly gave a new meaning to “painting the town red”. I have to laugh, the most meaningful thing I ever did was die; and that’s all I’ll be remembered for.

Now though, I find myself in a strange new place where nothing hurts and the stars that swirl in the sky reflect in every surface. Time seems as though it’s stopped, and the world has given me a moment of peace to spend however I like.

In a place like this one could almost forget that their entire life was spent being ridiculed for their parentage. The red hot sting of slaps and punches almost fades among the cool night air. The vice that grips the heart releases, even just a bit, as the wonder of the mountains steals each breath.

I have to stop myself from reaching out and letting my fingers graze the trees, so I can try to stay here as long as possible. They always told me that I kill everything I touch, and I can’t let that happen again. Not here.

But then I hear it, that familiar whisper in the wind. It’s always told me it’s not my fault, that I didn’t cause it. I never believed it, because it was so quiet and they’re so loud. Even now, it tells me that I’m safe here.

It says this place is safe from me.

I guess this afterlife’s not too bad, for a daughter of Death.

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Image: Unsplash - Hu Chen

This piece is for week five of Micro Fiction March, you can enter your own here: