This is a short story in three parts. I’ve just finished the first part. I will publish next part in a week – probably next Sunday. Any suggestions are welcome.

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Part – 1 – DEATH

 

My name is Mehul. Until this morning, I was just a normal happy kid. Then I died. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t that bad. When you die, it’s a moment of pain followed by a feeling of eternal peace. The last thing I could remember was dying, the world slowed, darkened and became cold around me. I didn’t see the tunnel of light that everyone always talked about, everything just dulled and grew dark, cold. I heard things however, my parents, my friends, my mentors, my girlfriend each voice added to the voice before until the dull buzz became a cacophonous roar, ushering me to fight, to live. I woke up or I slept. I couldn’t tell, but I was dead. I wasn’t sure though. In death, everything is so dreamlike.  Every voice is distant still so close. Somebody was playing violin. I opened my eyes. OK, now I was sure, I was dead. Only death could be this beautiful. Death is a lady. She was as beautiful as one can imagine.  She wore a white wedding gown. She gestured towards the door. I understood. She wanted to me to go out of the house. I obeyed.

It felt that I knew this street. It was an avenue by trade, but street sounds better. Looking onward I saw a group of people that I thought could have been friends of mine, or at least some of them those who died with me. I didn’t have that many friends, and even fewer that would stand to talk in a circle like that. So I lowered my expectations accordingly. It turned out to be another of many groups of people that I didn’t mind, but didn’t befriend. I figured that I would stop as I got to the circle, say hi maybe, and then see where the conversation went.

The lady nudged me to move ahead. She was smiling but at the same time she was worried, like she’d made a mistake. She kept walking behind me blocking my path. I assumed she feared I will run away. But I was not going to run away. Something about this place was peaceful. We walked for a few minutes. There were various fruit stores on the both side of street. I wanted to buy some but I got the feeling that I was not supposed to have them just yet.

I was so occupied looking at fruits that I didn’t notice a man standing few feet away from us. He was standing in the middle of the crossroads. He was tall and slender with dark hair hanging lank about his face. Features that are straight and angular, enough to make you look once and maybe twice but never three times. He blended into the background, but sometimes you’ll see him standing still as crowds flow around him like a river, staring into the distance as if searching for a point he reached, once. Pale skin; his face was soft and hairless like a child’s. He was a god. God of Death.