ToxicJuggalo CoFounder of Juggalo Cartel's blog: "Fiction"

Soul Mates in the Beyond

A blood soaked soul emerges from the shadows. Unsure of where he is, he begins to wander. The rain pours down, but he doesn’t even notice. Passing by strangers on the street, no one even looks his way. A rage builds inside him. He stops walking. No one notices. No one cares. He screams into the night. The scream comes from the emptiness that he feels inside. It goes unheard. He doesn’t understand. Can he not be seen? Can he not be heard? He looks up and notices the rain. It’s falling only on him. What is going on? He looks down and sees the blood; his blood. Memory floods back to him. The loneliness he felt; the sadness inside. It crashed down upon him like so much weight. He couldn’t take it anymore. The blade was in his hand before he had time to think about it. The deed was done. His blood flowed out upon the ground. The sweet kiss of death brushed his lips. Darkness now. And then….this. It’s like a dream. The sadness was supposed to end. Why was he still here? Well, here, but not here. Somewhere in between. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of light, or a tunnel, or something? Nothing. Just the same emptiness as before.

The city seems so different now. I never thought it was possible, but it’s even drearier than before. The rain never ends for me. I’ve not seen the sun in days, maybe weeks. Time is a funny thing when you’re dead. It doesn’t seem to flow along the way you get used to when you’re alive. There really isn’t any order to it, just chaos. A minute may last a day, but a day may go by in a second. I wander the streets alone. No one sees me, but then, that’s really no different than the way it was when I was alive. I walked around un-noticed and unloved, that’s why I did it. I would have never guessed that death wouldn’t change anything. So, in death, I do as I did in life. I wander the city streets alone. I realize that there must be others like me, but I don’t know where they are or if I can even see them. That must be the curse of suicide. To wander alone forever. What I thought was my way out turned out to be only the beginning. The loneliness is unbearable, but this time, there is no way to try to escape it. I think I’ve doomed myself.

Weeks have passed since I took my life. Maybe months or years, who knows? I’m walking down the same streets again. I’ve noticed that my wrists never stop bleeding. The rain never stops either. I’m used to it by now. You would think that numbness would finally set in to replace the loneliness, but it doesn’t. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is my hell. I am to spend eternity watching as other people go on living their lives while I wander the city streets alone and invisible. And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret taking my life. I would do it again if I could. For one moment, as my life slipped from me, I felt peace. A peace I had always longed for. That moment, the moment death took me, was worth all the pain and suffering. I just wish I had somewhere to go, or that someone could see me. My life was empty, but my death is worse.

I have so much time to think now. The world seems to have moved on so quickly. I don’t recognize the streets anymore. The other day (or was that last year?) I thought someone saw me. Just for an instant, a woman walking down the same sidewalk as I was seemed to see me, but then her eyes turned back to her feet and she walked on. In that short moment, I felt a sadness come over me that seemed to engulf my entire being. Was that my longing for life again? My longing for companionship? Or, was that her sadness with life and her longing for death? Could I actually feel what another person was feeling? As I think about it, I realize that her sadness and desperation was so closely related to mine that I picked up on it and in that instance, she and I were connected. Her pain became mine. Oh God! Did she feel the pain I had been suffering with all this time?!? If so…

*        *          *

She walks out of the shadows. She can’t remember how she got here, or where here is for that matter. Was it raining before? The rain doesn’t seem to bother all of the people walking down this street. In fact, it’s as if it doesn’t even touch them. She doesn’t even wonder why no one looks at her, she’s used to that. No one has ever paid her much attention. No one but that one guy the other day, but he seemed to be just as sad and lonely as her. That guy; something seems to click. She had looked at him only for a moment, but in that moment it felt as though a lifetime of pain had connected them. Was it raining then too? Her head feels so groggy. As she passes by a pharmacy, something triggers in her mind and the memories flood back to her. She was alone in her apartment (again, nothing unusual there, she had lived there for 2 years and no one had ever come to visit) and the weight of the world and all of its disappointments had come crashing down on her at last. So there she sat with all of her prescriptions; Anti-depressants and anxiety meds. She had enough to last a person 3 months, but she didn’t plan on making them last that long. In fact, she planned on taking them all tonight. In life, she had nothing and no one, maybe death would be better. As the sweet and gentle kiss of death brushed her lips, she felt peace at last.

So what went wrong, and how did I end up here? I took enough pills that I should have never woken up. Or is that what happened? Surely this isn’t what death is like. I don’t feel any different. I’m just as lonely and depressed as I always was. DAMNIT! Even in death, life isn’t fair. I have so many questions, but who do I ask? And why the hell is it raining? We’re in the middle of a drought! No one else seems to even notice the rain. It’s as if the rain only falls on me. I really don’t mind it though. I’ve always been partial to the rain. It’s actually a little comforting right now. I just hate that, in life I always felt alone and that I had no one, and now, in death, I really am alone and have no one. I took my life hoping to escape the pain, and now I’m going to suffer that pain forever. Life is unfair, but death is a bitch.

So here I am, wandering the streets looking for answers. I don’t know how long it’s been. Time seems to be a fluke when you’re dead. No order to it. It just goes by at whatever pace it wants to. It may have been a day, or it may have been a year. Who knows? Who really cares for that matter? As I pass by people on the streets, I wonder how many more are out there like me. Surely I can’t be the only one. Can I? And even if there are others out there like me, will I even be able to see them? I mean, what if we’re all as invisible to each other as we are to the living? That would make sense if this was meant to be my own personal hell. I can’t help but to laugh at the irony of it all. I felt as though I was invisible and alone in life, and now in death, I truly am. As I wander on, still lost in my thoughts, my mind drifts back to the guy I saw just days before I ended my life.

God, how long have I been wandering around these streets? How long have I been dead? Everything seems to have changed and the world has moved on. The living; they pass me by and never even notice. I still haven’t found any answers; still don’t know the rules, or even if there are rules. At least in life, I knew where I stood, but in death, I’m totally lost. The rain continues to pour down on me, but still, I don’t mind. It’s the one thing that keeps me from going insane. It reminds me of life and kind of connects me to the world I’ve left behind. I find myself constantly thinking about the guy I saw just days before I took my life. There was a connection there, I know it. I don’t why it bothers me so much, but I hope he is doing better. I felt the pain in him, and it seemed to mirror my own pain. If he was suffering as much as I was...Oh God! I wonder if he……

                 *          *          *

For years they wandered the streets alone. They had both come to the conclusion that this was their hell. Neither of them had ever come across another like them. And, through all of this time, neither of them had found another connection like the one they had with each other on that fateful day. He, already in the beyond and she, heading toward it. Was it a fluke that she had seen him and that they had connected, if so briefly, in that moment of grief through the veil of death? What did it all mean? Questions. They both had them, but no way to get answers. The rain never seemed to end and the sun never shined. The rain they could deal with, for it was a comfort they both shared, but the lack of sun made death almost unbearable. And so, each resigned to their own fate, they wandered; alone and invisible.

Fate is not entirely cruel; karma isn’t always a bitch, and sometimes, even the darkest of rain clouds has a silver lining. As fate had it, this day they were walk down the same street. Each one lost in their own thoughts, they walked right past each other, never even noticing. A sadness like neither had felt in years washed over them both. They stop, standing in the rain. “I recognize that feeling”, each of them thinks. With that recognition, there is a sudden warmth to the cold rain that has washed over them for years. Suddenly, the need for answers isn’t so important. Each slowly turns, not even daring to hope. As their eyes meet, a knowing look passes between them. They have seen each other before. It was her! It was him! From that day, so long ago! They had found each other at last! No words were spoken between them. Just a long loving look that was shared. And as they joined hands, for the first time since either of them had died, the sun shone down on them.

And so, two lost souls were joined as one. Although the rain didn’t stop, out came the sun. And thus, a rainbow was born that could never fade as these two damned souls wandered away. Though this is where my story ends, it’s where their life after death begins. True love knows no bounds. Not even in death.

                                                                                                      By: Christopher W. Annas