If you know how

If you know how

September 09, 2024

Someone once said that the two most important days of a man’s life are the day he is born and the day he discovers why.

Today, I died.

And I discovered why.

What no one will tell anyone is that death has never been permanent. Death is an obstacle, a rather formidable obstacle. It prevents you from interacting with the living. It prevents you from moving objects that should be moved by the living. It prevents you from preventing the living from dying.

It does not prevent you from preventing other dead people in everything they do.

And it does not prevent you from disclosing what you know to the living, if you know how.

Today, I died so I could learn how.

At 8:34 am EST, a rather large bus decided to take the path of least resistance (me) instead of a gaggle of children crossing the street.

Unfortunately (for me), had I been the driver, I would have done the same.

It sucks to be me.

So here I stand, watching some workers from the morgue come and scrape my remains off of the grill and the street. The smear extended nearly 20 feet and they only recovered 8 fingers, instead of 10. I watched a young couple collect my thumbs as a souvenir. When I am finished, I will give them both a visit to vent my displeasure with their action.

Until then, I continued watching.

I was not alone watching.

Four other people, three not dressed for this time period, took note of my body and my interest in my body. Two of the four motioned for me to walk over to them. The other two walked away.

Very quickly.

I introduced myself. They said they already knew. One told me he was expecting me, just an hour later. The other told me he was recently passed over (colloquial term for recently dead) and was still learning the ropes. I didn’t give either of them a dramatic display of what I had to live for. That would insult the first’s intelligence. He told me time was short and I had work to do. I was to go after the other two, and once I found them, I was to “melt them.”

I looked puzzled, but kept listening. The first further explained that the world can only hold so many deceased people moving about. The addition of me tipped the scales. “Melting” a passed over permanently sent them toward decomposition of both soul and memory of existence. Those two were the next on the list. If I could not melt them by sundown, I would be melted instead by another.

It was in my best interest to get a move on.

I had questions. He told me the learning curve was Sisyphusian and the penalties were immediate. With that, the first simply walked away. The second followed in almost an obsequious manner. I was left alone to discover the details of my current state.

In retrospect, I should have moved sooner instead of pondering the possibilities.

The attack came from my left. One of the spectators simply touched my side, leaving me paralyzed. So, the dead can feel pain. If this is so, I took a combat stance for the next attack. I did not see it, rather I felt it. I moved left, spun, and clapped my hands on the head of my assailant. He felt pain. He felt all of the pain he had ever caused the living, while he was living. His wail permeated the barrier between worlds causing the living to freeze with fear at the sound of ultimate suffering.

That’s when I learned, the dead can make themselves known to the living.

It was a dear price he paid before shrinking into oblivion. I should have felt some remorse, but did not. I pushed him past his threshold, making him suffer as few had before. Was I now a monster for my actions? Would I be held accountable?

I asked in silence, expecting no other to hear. But, one did.

It was the fourth, the last one who saw me die.

She, and she was a she, wanted to parlay. She told me the one I had recently dispatched was her husband in the land of the living.

The two had never been apart.

Having no manner in which to fight me, she knelt, closed her eyes, and bowed her head.

“Make it quick, so I can find him.”

I sit on the library steps, a common place for me in my life. I see other passed overs milling about. They avoid eye contact. Word gets around quickly. It will take years before I find myself in a position required to melt someone again. It might only take a few minutes before someone wants to melt me.

Until then, I want my thumbs.

By luck, the grave robbers appeared at the library. I had a feeling they would. I cannot physically harm either of them or melt them, but I can animate my thumbs and make each move to wig the pair out of their minds.

A rat or two collected my remains making for a decent dinner for two.

The grave robbers are still running in fear.

Now, all I have to do is wait for something worth happening.

And I have all of the time in the world.