That's how I died.
I heard people say—at least that's what the living people say—death is a peaceful experience, as natural as falling asleep. They talked about a tunnel of light, pulling you to the other side and waiting for your loved one. In all these stories, you will encounter words such as comfort, contentment, and peace, but in general they are the same: death is nothing terrible. I want to say that it is true. I want to reassure you, but I have never been a liar.
Misie is my life support, that is her official title. However, as my quantum leap from the old world to the new world was still being finalized, I was too busy screaming to not notice her, too busy fighting the violent electric arc inside my skull.
"Don't think!" she urged, her young voice pointing the way, "Don't resist! It will be worse if you resist. Just relax and you will remember."
My jaw closed with a snap, and my gritted teeth seemed to crack in my mouth. I must have bitten off a piece of meat from my tongue, because I could feel a large piece of meat entering my throat. Most importantly, a bright sun dazzled me**. Blood spurted out of my mouth, and the more I wrestled with the flames in my heart, the more my body convulsed, as if I was mad at me.
Giving up is against my original position, but at the moment I surrendered, I felt less painful. Like the air released by a balloon, the pain subsided. The fire extinguisher hit the flames, and a great sense of peace overwhelmed me.
"I have been looking forward to seeing you!" she declared, "I look forward to it!"
Her southern accent makes my ears warm. This is a voice I know. It is as familiar as my mother's, but strangely, I am sure that she is a stranger to me. I lay flat on a cold altar-like stone, fresh air gushing from my nostrils, filling my lungs; every dizzy breath rejuvenated my blood and empowered my muscles The power keeps my sight focused and makes my mind clear. I am sober, safe and alive!
I opened my stinging eyes without fear and saw an underage black girl smiling in front of me. When she pressed the button nose to my nose, my limbs stiffened with fright. "You are really here!" she cried, "here! here! here!"
Maybe this is her elation, but her face looks like an exaggerated cartoon. Her big brown eyes gleamed like diamonds, the teeth between her lips gleamed like pearls, and her cheeks were tucked at the corners of her mouth like two apples. Fortunately, she stepped back a few feet ー so that we can better see her and me in an unusual situation.
"This is not the end," she said solemnly.
"What is this?" I asked in a daze, squinting at her. This problem turned my mouth into a grunting nose and drooling. I licked the upper jaw of my lips to make sure that I still have a tongue-I did lick it-and then sat up with a groan and gasped as I looked at the wings that grew on the little girl's back. ; Each wing is as high and as wide as her own body, and each feather stirs the air under her.
"This is not a dream," she answered my question, "this... is an awakening!"
I'm not entirely sure if she just read my mind-the girl who can fly neither confirms nor denies it. I decided to calm down, take another deep breath, and take a minute to examine this vivid state of consciousness. I opened my mouth and scratched, ready to ask the next question, "Who is it -"
"My name is Missy!" She interrupted me. "This is your life support system." She bowed politely, as if there was an important person present. "Hello, Daniel, it's an honor to meet you."
"Daniel?" I complained, "Damn, that's my name. Danny Fox."
"It's actually Daniel Franklin Fox! But Danny is fine."
My name popping out of her mouth seemed to make the girl very excited. I wonder if it was a mistake, a typo or a mistake. Who is she waiting for
"You!" she cried, "only you!"
"Missi?" After a while, I asked, an annoying feeling of deja vu in my mind, "Why? Why are you... so familiar?"
"So you remember me?" she exclaimed excitedly.
I begged the girl to be quiet while hovering around me. Thankfully, she stopped in front of me, curled up a strand of shiny black hair on her index finger, and looked at my frown. She seemed to be attracted by my face, put her fingers in her mouth, and chewed her hair like licorice.
"Oh, don't look!" she said, shyly pulling the wet hair from her lips. "I'm so nervous!"
I nodded blankly, and then suddenly realized an incredibly obvious fact: For a person who should have died, I felt more alive than ever. I can feel the adrenaline flowing in my body feverishly, making me feel like I am back in my teenage years. Maybe I am invincible
"You are not!" she replied. "But I'm glad you feel better. Sit up and look around."
I still wear the jacket that I have worn for ten years, the rumpled white-collar shirt and the torn jeans. If this is life after death, then I would rather wear more appropriate clothes to meet life after death: maybe in a suit, tie, shiny shoes, and a handsome haircut. One thing I can say about these old clothes is that they are familiar, and familiarity brings comfort in this most unfamiliar environment.
"This shirt really needs to be ironed," Misie said, her lips closed tightly, "but it's not that bad. I've heard of adult men wearing diapers when they wake up here! Big babies in diapers! Everyone involved was embarrassed. Someone told me that a man woke up in a banana suit! A big yellow banana! Can you imagine it?"
"Your lips haven't moved!" I pointed at her with a finger and said, "I watched very carefully! Yes! You spoke, but your lips... Your lips haven't moved! Are you still a human ghost?"
She waved her hand rashly, as if telepathy was not worth discussing at all. Fortunately, she can't ignore the world around me. This place I have never been to, dreamed of, or imagined is something I have never experienced. Around me is a white and flawless panorama, without any shadow, this is a space without heart and soul-a vacuum of God.
"I must be dreaming! I must be!"
"Most people thought that at first," she said, "I think I did too."
"Yes?"
"Oh, I have gone through this process, Daniel, I have waited forty-one years to help you through your difficulties. I have to say that time has passed! Can’t begin to describe what this means to me. Even now, when When I see you, I don’t feel real when I talk to you."
"Are you telling me, are you talking about forty-one years?"
"Hmm! My only regret is that you only have such a short time. They did say that good people died young, but if you can see you have thick gray hair and a crooked old crutch, that would be great. Yes. Yes, you will become very old!"
In order to make the flight look effortless, Misie perched on the edge of my rock, and her bird-like wings stopped constantly vibrating. When I stood up, I realized that the top of her curled head was almost close to my shoulder.
To keep my distance, I took off the worn-out jacket, leaving only a rumpled shirt, worn-out jeans and worn-out sneakers. I searched for my wallet and mobile phone in the back pocket, but I couldn't find it.
"Some belongings will come here with you," she said. "Most of them are emotional products, but you are far from home, so most of them get lost in transit."
My key is gone, and the trouble ahead makes me feel uneasy temporarily-report the loss of my credit card, change a new lock, etc. Then I remembered where I was. The first time I looked at an angel, it seemed to be the first time. Will this really happen to me? What's wrong with me
"Is this a coma?" I asked the girl, "Did I take medicine? Did some bastard put the medicine in my drink?"
"This will be a very deep sleep," she said, squeezing my arm.
"The pinch is lighter than the slap," she giggled, "but it's just as effective! No, it's not a coma or drug-induced delirium. Your pupils are not dilated, and you don't have the smell of Scotch. This This is the status quo, this is the reality."
"Impossible!" I laughed, excited, "Angels don't exist! This is the reality I come from! You are a shit cliché found in fairy tales, shit TV shows and psychedelic travels like this. Listen, I’m really sorry to involve you. I don’t know what I’m thinking, but if you wake me up, I promise I’ll talk to myself. I’ll even see those smart psychologists. , Express my feelings, and cry a lot. Have we reached an agreement?"
I waited for her to agree, even nodding or laughing, she didn't. Instead, she taught me language, and then she held my hand, "Daniel," she began to say, "I am as real and as stale as you see. All myths have a certain basis of facts. The fact is that some people You must first see the clichés, like an old pair of slippers, it makes them feel like at home! What you see today is an angel, not me after decades of development to get to where I am today, it is mine all."
Suspiciously, I still withdrew my hands.
"I am a life support system," she added, "I have one myself, and everyone is-all races on all planets. We have a common bond, and you and me have a profound connection. From the moment of conception From a moment, your life is my responsibility."
Her sincere attitude makes this matter seem straightforward, I can't believe it, but her honest face and serious behavior are really convincing.
"You," I laughed, "Have you been taking care of me? For God's sake, you are still a child! What do you know?"
"How dare you talk to me like this!" She was annoyed. "Just last week, it was my birth-to be precise, one hundred and eighty-nine years old! And you are the kid here!"
The angel hadn’t been angry for too long. "Everyone is here," she said when she recalled her birth party, "Of course, except for my Daniel. I told my grandmother everything about you, and told her how much you are. Resolute, you are always so serious! Even a little boy, you don’t know how to play the game of catching monsters, because you think it’s stupid."
"Yes!" I protested, "I mean, there is no such thing as a demon! Really? How do you know what I'm thinking?" I slowed down.
"I can hear every thought of you," she replied, "you can hear me if I want to. Although now you are here, the signal will start to disappear from our heads, I don’t need it anymore. My work is over, it is difficult for me to accept, I have become accustomed to you."
Her painful sigh almost broke my heart. "Assuming that we all have to adapt to the new role," she continued, "I will find a solution, and so will you, because although there are very few cases where the soul loses its mind. This This kind of shock will cause the jīng god to collapse. When this happens, there is no hope of recovery. At any time, as long as you feel overwhelmed by this place, try to focus on other things."
"For example?" I asked worriedly.
"Well, let's see," she thought, "Do you like my clothes? Especially to meet you! It took me nine months and four days to finish!"
My shrug did not satisfy the angel. However, to please her, I checked the dress more closely and was surprised to find that my own face was reflected in the material. I was impressed, and Missy was also satisfied.
"Aha!" I exclaimed suddenly, "Since you already know what I'm thinking, why do you even ask me what I think of this dress? Ha! I knew it was a dream!"
She paused and smiled at me triumphantly. "I ask you, Daniel, because I just want to hear you say you like it."
"Of course," I said with a smirk, "Then tell me, what am I thinking now, angel girl?"
This time, she didn't hesitate, "I was so busy, Daniel. Your mind is a runaway train full of confused passengers. How do I know her name? When and where will I wake up? Little demon jīng Does it exist? Does she really know what I'm thinking?"
Misie didn't need to read my heart to confirm, my face of failure told her everything she needed to know. Some of the things she said before are now beginning to make a lot of sense: death takes some time to adapt. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)