A medical doctor lies on the bed of his own ward. C-ward. Sickly and frail he lies in the bed normally meant for his patients. He indeed never imagined he'd be here, breathing through a machine, being fed by a machine and being taken care of those he thought of as his inferiors. In the first place he never was all that remarkable, perhaps all he truly wanted was to be acknowledged as a part of something. Too late for that now; he is on his death bed. My bed.
His eyes-truly the only thing in his body that moved according to his will-scanned me. I sensed his fear, his bewilderment. Granted, I had just appeared from thin air for ability all reapers have been blessed with, along with the oh so useful ability to cease interruptions from the living. An ability to enter a pocket of time and stay there until a decision was made.
The man groaned and his hoarse voice let out a few coherent words. It seems he wants to know who I am. They always do.
"I am death. Your death" Of course his eyes widen. The old ones always take it a bit more seriously. Others have laughed, some even displayed an eagerness.
His heart loses its brisk pace and a solemn smile finds its way to his wrinkled face. As if finally at peace, he whispers "So it's here at last" It was.
"Where am I going to?" He asked. Looking at his details he never was an avid believer of the supernatural, I suppose seeing a supernatural being changes that.
"You have a choice," I tell him
His eyes snap to mine "I get to choose between heaven and hell?" His eyes portrayed his eagerness to go to the fantasized after life he had most definitely dreamed up whilst awaiting my arrival.
I quickly held up my hand, silencing him before he sputters a decision. Haste makes waste. This is most true, in death.
"There is no heaven or hell," I tell him "There have always been a fixed number of souls. God, the creator of all is the origin and source of souls. You can choose to go back to the source and cease your awareness or, be reborn as another. You may be born in the past, future and you may even be born into one of the numerous children being birthed at this very moment"
He still holds a bewildered look on his face "What about the ever-increasing population?" He asks
I raise an eyebrow, surprised he would bother asking of such. "Like I said. You can live again as someone perhaps in the past, future or present. This also applies to all parts of time. People from the past get to live in the future or the present or even earlier in time. It is a stock exchange of souls if you will"
The man nods, most likely not comprehending much. Perhaps I should stick to more concise explanations?
"So, do I keep my memories of this life? And if I do, didn't I have a life before this one? why don't I remember?"
And the questions poured out more and more. Again, I held up my hand silencing him. "You are a new soul or rather the soul of one who once chose to return to God. God sent you back to keep that fixed amount of souls in check" I smile at his disappointment. They always seek to hear stories of their past lives exploits, some, in fact, remember once they are brought into this space and the decision making becomes a lot easier with their renewed memory. The new souls are rare. It is only so many times one passes up the chance to live again.
"You will experience your memories as wisdom, only a few times will you truly know you have been someone else, but do not concern yourself with that. Now, I await your decision"
The man smiles and says with audible delight "I want a new life. I want to live again"
***
I was never exceptional at anything when I seldom spoke this to my peers, family, friends and sometimes strangers. I was dismissed. 'How is a medical doctor not exceptional?' 'you're just being greedy' 'that's not true'
But it was true. I knew I wasn't good, I felt it. I hadn't amounted to anything significant, living for the day is no exceptional feat. Achieving something satisfactory deserved no applause. I despised myself.
And that hatred rang true for the women. Of course, they all said I was nice and kind, but the truth, the reality was: they saw me as unhinged, crazy, unappreciative and pitiful. And they lied to my face. The sweetest liar of all, my mother. Needless to say, I never got married, never had kids either. Didn't bother to adopt.
For the most part of my years, I lived alone, sulking and brooding my inept nature. Working tirelessly to live the next day. And I did, day after day I lived. Even after the last of my direct family died off to myocardial ischemia.
Now all that remains is I, a childless old hog whose nephew's and niece's children take care of whenever so inclined.
To say I wasn't scared when death showed itself would be a lie. Despite the number of times I attempted suicide, one is always nervous when trying something for the first time and death is no exception. But I was happy. At last, I would not bear the sneer of the family nor the ire of my caretakers. Finally, the shaking in my hands would end and I would cease my struggle for breath. At last, I would be free. Depression, sadness and hopelessness, I call friends no more.
But then he said I could choose to live anew, a brand-new life! That's all I've wanted these past decades of infirmity. That's what all my failures have been for, a new life. I nearly weep.
I will hold on to my memories. Memories of failure, I have no doubt will be a marvelous incentive to succeed in my new life. No matter what. I will succeed, one way or another.