A man died, his eyes closed, and the stale body he left behind is lying down, boxed inside a coffin, in a room exposed with religious references.
Yet, he stayed conscious, able to see everything around him. He became a ghostly being, spectating everything up to this moment. The moment where he could hear the sad music and people crying in front of his dead body.
The mood felt appropriate and relevant to him, especially his friends and family's heartful goodbyes for his departure from the world. After some time, his ties with his spirit, or astral body, eventually weakened and vanished altogether. The body could no longer hold the soul. He starts to wonder.
'So this is death...'
Unlike the belief he held in his heart that death is a ticket leading to a realm that aligns with his sense of self and justice. He instead fell in a daze as his vision gradually fade into darkness. Continuously drifting around the dark void as he noticed the life he had starts to fade by the second.
He no longer has a heart, yet he could feel it rising. The details he had witnessed in his life, distorting, becoming smaller until it blurred out and disappeared. The taste of sweet, sour, bitter food and kisses in his mind becoming bland, and the words of advice and love he heard disappearing in his conscious. His nonexistent eyes are producing endless sorrow. Then the knowledge he learned, information kept in his head, gone. Bearing a cluster of emotions he could not control, a complex combination of adversity—fear of losing everything he is. The loneliness kept expanding. And the disbelief that this could end at any moment.
'Is this liberation?'
'Is there even a purpose?'
...
'If there is a spec of light, maybe-'
And finally, the language he spoke with all his life and the emotion he holds from start to finish are eaten by the abyss that is the void.
...
...
...
As if waiting for a change of pace, though the words have no meaning. This endless darkness the soul is trapped in manifested a sudden burst of light. Flashing his surroundings and exposing a mass of balls, different in luster and color attached all together unmoved.
Like a fortune wheel rolling about, as if luck picked him, he moved. While the soul was drowning, unable to save himself, the light of hope gave him the courage to swim up, grasping the air he longed for—consciousness, emotions, and memories coming back again. The dull sensation he felt becoming more vibrant, and his vision become brighter and brighter as he moves towards the light, transporting his very existence to a place he felt familiar.
***
The soul stood inside a classroom. He starts to reminisce every detail of his memory.
'Huh?'
Retaining almost everything, the room is just a few steps across from a class he attended when he was young. It is where he collaborated with the student of that class for two quarters of that school year. The students in that class specialized in the artistic essence of his project, which is fortunate due to his course hardly meeting that criteria but very much correlate with it.
The room has a smooth gray floor with white walls, posters, and paintings hanging on all sides. The classroom's light brightens the area around it.
There were four computers set-ups next to each other, forming a horizontal line with seven more sections across the room. The seats are perfectly stationed, and in front is the teacher's desk with a cabinet left to it showcasing a variety of sculptures made by her students. And in the middle was the classroom projector with a whiteboard right next to it.
And there, the soul stood in front. Although he could see from a 360 degrees angle, it made his head heavy and unsteady. Adding the inability of movement made the situation worst. Confused, a tense feeling rose within himself. Afraid of what this could mean.
The soul focused his vision on a single target while gradually turning his nonexistent head around the entrance door behind him. He turned right back when a voice quite profound and mysterious call the soul by his name.
"Cassete B. Yeshua,"
It was a man sitting next to the 3rd computer of the 5th section. The man is facing him, legs crossed, head tilted supported by his right hand, and elbow touching the table. It wore a black and white flannel, light brown pants, and a slip-on fabric shoe. The soul could distinguish its figures. About five to six feet tall with medium brown skin. Curly and long black hair tied behind his head and black fingernails. But one major characteristic of this man is his face. There is nothing, no mouth, no eyes, no nose, just its smooth skin.
The man has no facial features, yet the soul could feel it smiling toward him. However, it could not determine what emotion the man is emitting. Is the man happy, insane, bloodthirsty?
He doesn't know. That made the soul, who has no physical body, felt shivers all over. And to make the situation worst, he can't move and can't escape. The man spoke,
"Usually, once a soul left its vessel including both physical and astral body, their consciousness would decay pretty quickly. Well, you are a particular case."
Not knowing the knowledge within the mystical realm, the soul could not distinguish such information and pass it on to its subconscious. But experiencing the words themselves, he felt a sense of mockery emanating from the person sitting down when he stated,
"Not that your special or anything, I just took you in before that process completely happens,"
The soul mustered every ounce of its strength, analyzing every part of himself, trying to feel a limb, anything he could move. His heart is beating uncontrollably; it is an intensity he could no longer handle. He couldn't even inhale anything, let alone feel pain in his chest, and yet he stayed conscious.
'How is this happening' he said while his vision is shimmering.
"Or not... " The man replied, moving his head a little to the right, avoiding the words the soul spoke.
Capable of only hearing the man's voice and seeing the area he focuses on while the rest distorted like broken mirrors made his blood boiling out of fear. His focus weakening making his vision starts to darken. Like a memory back of his head, he remembered the darkness he floated in. He focused his vision toward the man, still showing blankness from a physical or psychological perspective.
'Clearly, the man is wearing some mask or isn't human,'
Not knowing his intentions, he waited for the man to make a move on him, but the man stayed silent and still. Thinking of being tortured or worst, his body paralyzed and numbed, he could no longer hold the words he wants to express,
'Fuck, I'm dead,' He said, fearing for his life.
"Anyway-" Interrupted by the soul's words. The man was dumbfounded.
As if the man could not help but smile brightly. His smooth skin twitching where his mouth is supposed to be. His entire body curling around, holding his stomach, he laughs,
"Hahahahahahahaha... I can't... hahaha.... Okay, okay,"
The man is putting his hand where his mouth is supposed to be.
"Hahahaha... Okay, stop..." he continued and seemingly forcing himself to sign.
Confused, he stared at the man remaining silent from this moment forward.
"You are dead,"
By the man's word, he realized
"You died a few weeks ago and spent some time as a ghost watching that cliche ritual you mortals do. Eventually, you cut ties with the astral body and that was a few seconds ago. How could you not remember this?" Exclaimed the man sitting down.
As if the void in his head filled with the information in needed.
'But how-'
"Yes, I mentioned," rising his left hand, making an air quote.
"'a few seconds ago.' It may have felt like you were drifting for eternity, but it was only a few seconds. I promise." Crossing his fingers.
...
"I can't blame you. It's just how things work. Even I don't have the authority over that."
"As the reason why you made me into some sort of monster in your head, take a look,"
The man conjured a floating mirror with a snap of his finger in front of the soul. As he turns around to face the computer behind him, the other party in the room looked toward the floating object.
He saw a white membrane imprisoning a ball of light glimmering with a golden aura, an unstable star perpetually producing a solar flare longer and more visible than its core. What he saw,
"That is your soul. Some say a person's eyes are the windows of the soul. Your eyes are light brown, it's just the sun shining that made it look like gold, but you understand what I mean, yes?"
"And because you're a ball of light, not the ghost you were a few minutes ago, obviously you'd feel paralyze and numb."
Allowing the soul to digest the sentences the man spoke of and adapt to the current situation he is presently under. The man smiled and started to hold the mouse computer and turning on the computer in front of him. After loading for a few minutes, it displayed several apps behind a landscape background. He clicked one, opening the game [Hub of Gods | Sentro]