Ksinya Fields was just an ordinary human. Absolutely depressed with her mundane life. She would read and write to escape her depression. However after a few years of adulthood she had all but lost her spark for the language arts. The fireworks and enjoyment were gone. Sure she had a loving fiance and supportive friends who she could tell everything to. It wasn't enough. She wasn't satisfied with working, with adulthood, with dealing with people. This life of striving to succeed, of earning your keep just wasn't the life for her. You may call it laziness, she called it just wanting to do what made her happy.
Of course she came up with many theories, many reasons to keep on going on. She called her life a story and when times got hard she'd smile and say 'I bet the readers are hanging on to the edge of their seats.' When it was boring, she'd apologize to the readers for the lack of entertainment. Things have been boring lately. She would work, come home, play video games, and pretend to be happy.
Ksinya was a good liar, the best. She always told herself the best lie is one that has a bit of truth to it. With her lie, even she believed she was happy for a while. The truth was, she has never seen a future for herself. Even when she was eight years old she had no vision of what her life would look like when she was older and she tried to end her story. Sadly it didn't end there, and she made it into adulthood with no plans, just going blind. Ksinya wandered through life knowing she had to continue to try to live. She knew her first step was to get out from under her abusive mothers' house and away from that dark mark on her life. In order to achieve this, however, she knew she would have to get a job. And since she was a drop out since the plague hit the world, one that didn't require a degree was her only option.
She landed a job that sapped her soul, but what minimum wage job doesn't? She wrote less and less. And she got even more depressed. Her fiance noticed this, her spiral. He watched it everyday and he felt helpless that he could do nothing about it. He tried to work harder and harder, but he could only work so much until he felt himself start to crack under the pressure.
Ksinya's greatest fear was being a burden. She hated to watch what he was doing to himself just for her. Just because she couldn't suck it up and live life like the rest of humanity. She just couldn't wrap her mind around what was there to live for.
A body has blood cells that live and die. They travel throughout the body doing their jobs, they don't know why they do what they do but everything is like clockwork. The lungs take in air that gives oxygen to the blood that brings it to the brain which tells the lungs to breathe and the heart to beat to recycle the blood and send it through the body once again.
Now, don't go citing this on a research paper. Ksinya had one college level biology class under her belt and she was far from a scientist, but this brought her comfort; she was a blood cell and the earth was the body, her job was to get oxygen so she could excrete carbon dioxide to feed the trees. One day she would make it to the end of her journey and be recycled. She hoped in her next life she could just rest and be happy.
That was her dying wish. At twenty-four years old Ksinya got a hold of a gun and pointed it at her brain and squeezed the trigger. Her brain had a hole in it and it couldn't get the message to the lungs to breathe in air, and it forgot to tell the heart to keep beating. Blood poured out of the hole in her head, millions of cells died off that day. They reached the end of their journey, a meteor pierced their world and ended it all. That flaming ball of lead ended Ksinya's life. Unable to make it a quarter of the way.
What happens to blood cells when they are wasted on the floor? Are they recycled? They exist outside the world they were created in. Ksinya was a cell lost to the Earth. She existed somewhere else, like the blood she lost that was a stain on the floor. She became a stain in another realm.
Because she hadn't lived long enough in her world to be recycled she didn't arrive in this new world as a baby. She came as she was and she knew that she had died. She felt her head for the hole and all her fingers caught was the same old unmanageable mop of hair she always had. She was wearing her sports bra and a pair of shorts, not a trace of blood on them. When she died she was in her home; she stood now in a river, the water flowing past her knees. She grew up in a religious house and couldn't help but to think of baptismal waters. So which religion was right? Who or what would she meet in this new realm?