A Little Story About Death by Petter Prené (suggested reading .txt) 📖

I woke up to hear my son crying for attention. I fed him his bottle and continued down the stairs to the kitchen. I cooked some eggs and bacon, switched the TV on and ate. As I ate my breakfast, watching the news reporter’s bald face, everything suddenly turned dark. For a second, I couldn't breath. I couldn't see anything at all, couldn't feel anything. Just blackness. Then I heard a voice. “I'm dead” it said. “Who are you?” I asked. “I'm your brain telling you you are dead.” It responded. “But if I'm dead, where is everyone? Surely there are more dead people around here too.” I asked. “They are here, if you want them too. But they aren't really here, they just appear in your imagination.” It responded. “But I can't be dead! I was just eating breakfast like every morning!” I said. “You know how you never remember exactly when or how you fall asleep every night? When you die, your brain erases the last 5 hours so you don't have to suffer the trauma of dying.” It responded. “But why can't I see, feel and interact with anything?” I asked. “When you die, everything in your body stops working, except one thing: your imagination. You have to use your imagination if you want to see and feel things.”

I used my imagination. Soon I found myself in my home again. I could see myself sleeping in my bed. I went and checked on my son. “What happens if I touch him?” I aked. “Go ahead, try! Sometimes, this is not just your imagination, sometimes it's a dimension. Said dimension can sometimes slip into the living dimension. Some people even claim they can see them.” He responded. “That must be what a ghost is” I said.

I tried to touch my son. It worked! His normally soft skin felt electric and cold. He woke up and looked at me with cold terrifying eyes. He must have been scared of me. He started to cry and I realised, this is just what happened this morning!

Publication Date: 06-22-2016

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