"Thanks for shopping with us..."
On the corner of a typical street located in a typical city in the cold north, stood behind a counter dressed in a cheap and dirty uniform, was a young-adult boy; said to be in the prime of his life.
He stood behind the counter in the dead of the night with only the humming lights to keep him company and whatever song was stuck in his head. He stared into the shop, for it was small enough for him to have vision of it all. He stood with his mouth closed, although he would have guessed it was open. His hair was slowly turning from white to grey as he visibly aged, hoping to die of boredom.
DING DONG!
"Welco-"
The boy looked at the person who just walked in only to see someone with who he was well acquainted. But, at 2 in the morning, perhaps this was the last person he wanted to see.
"YO! Fishy!" The person called as they entered the door bringing their enthusiasm with them. "How you holding up?"
"I've been worse." The boy behind the counter, nicknamed 'Fishy', replied.
"Happens to all of us."
The man that just walked in dashed around the shop as if he'd been here a million times in the past. Weaving in between each tiny isle grabbing various biscuits and packets of sweets from the sides.
"So, how you holding up, Fishy?"
"Don't call me that, and you already asked. But I guess I've been doing fine." He replied as he proceeded to scan each item slower than the last.
"Sorry, sorry. My bad, Fintan! I'm forgetful..."
Despite hearing his name he was quickly reminded why he was agreeing to the nickname Fishy. Although he can't remember how it started, it was something he lived with.
DING DONG!
"Welcome-" Fishy said looking at the group of masked men that walked through the door. Hoping it was just a prank by his friend, even though they've never pranked each other before.
"Grab what you can!" One of them said to the others who proceeded to do his every word.
"Give us all the money you got!" He continued to say pushing his way to the counter, pointing a gun at Fishy's head.
Fishy's breath became uneasy. He hadn't received training for a situation like this. He looked into the barrel of the gun that seemed endless and sweatily looked around for his friend who he could see running away in the distance. Convincing himself that it wasn't a prank and that in front of him was a real gun.
"H-here you go…" Fishy handed over all the money that was in the till.
Only £24.50.
Trying to keep his eye on where the gun was pointing. Thinking about if he could do anything to at least extend his life by a few seconds.
"Thanks." The man replied.
BANG!
The sound of a gunshot echoed in the silent night but was quickly drowned out by them running out of the already tarnished store.
"W-what happened?" Fishy thought to himself as he tried to orientate himself.
"My… body?" He tried to lift his hands but they felt disconnected. With every attempt to pick them up he felt all the heat escape his body at once. The pool of blood he laid against was something he assumed had been under his feet all along. The blood covered his face as his eyes slowly twitched closed.
The breathing that once smoothly ruptured the puddle of blood, stopped.
And Fishy had died.
# # #
"Why is it so bright?" Fishy thought to himself, unsure of if he remembered how to open his eyes. "What happened to me?"
His mind raced around several possible ideas of what could have happened all within less than the time it took him to die.
By the time his eyes naturally opened for the light that was trying to invite its way in, he came to one final conclusion.
"I'm no longer in the same world."
Although he wasn't sure how it happened, he could tell by the larger open field that he was now standing in that it wasn't what he was used to. He could hear the sound of the wind as it brushed past the millions of grass that were around him and the sun was too bright for where he lived.
A quick turn showed that he was alone with only his thoughts.
"Is this heaven?" He thought. "No, not possible, I'm an atheist. Maybe this is a dream? Eternal dreams after death? That's the solution I always believed in."
He flipped around again before looking down at the new clothes that he wore, thankful that he wasn't naked.
Instead of his tackey uniform, he stood in plain brown trousers and an even dirtier white top.
"Oh no!" In sudden panic, he felt every part of his body to make sure it was the same. His rough white hair to which he calls silver, his sharp face to which he, and maybe some, would call handsome. Even the regions that he wouldn't talk about had to be checked. Sadly, to his dismay, his height in both cases was the same, a little above average.
"I guess all that changed was my clothes," he said now sitting in a warm patch of grass. "I think I'm fine with this place."
Although not what one would expect after death, Fishy came to terms with it quicker than most would. His life back home was not what he would expect after graduating top of his class at university. He was forced into a life he didn't want whilst all his friends marched past him without stopping to pick him back up, not that he would say he needed them to.
"What to do… what to do…?" Fishy found himself staring at the sky and counting the clouds on one hand. To him, they each looked like wild monsters, larger than his imagination could conjure.
"What a boring place."
The wind picked up as if hearing Fishy's comment and in his face landed a brown piece of paper that seemed to be straight out of a pirate film.
"A treasure map?" He said somehow deciphering the strange words on it. "I can read this?"
He read it clearly despite it not being English. He read it out loud and it came out as English.
"So… I guess I'll just follow this then?"
Having no idea where the map would take him, having no clue as to what would await him in the world that he thought was life after death. Fishy journeyed into the unknown field following a map that assumed would take him to the life he wanted. Because what could you possibly lose if you are already dead.