The Afterlife
To say I was afraid before I met the afterlife would be an understatement; I was terrified, shaking in my old brown boots, for I was told it was simply horrid! Why? Well, apparently, the Afterlife constantly has a snotty nose, and their mouth looks like a black hole with crusty chapped lips. Then, once you pass away, the menace seizes your spirit, shoves it in a jar, and then thumps across the universe, carelessly ripping holes in the night sky. The dark hooded person is famished when it arrives home, so it devourers your soul for supper, and forever you live in its sour stomach, a cave closely guarded by the Nobblets. Who are the Nobblets? Let me tell you, they look like sea urchins and nibble at your cheesy toes for eternity.
I flowed from warm to cold quickly, losing blood by the second. One. Last. Deep. Breath. Then I was gone; the final thread that tied me to this world snapped. It was as though a gust of wind dislodged my spirit and blew it out of my body; shocked, I sat there, hugging my knobbly knees whilst staring at the dark clouds passing through the night sky, waiting in anticipation for the afterlife. One hour passed, then another, then another, it was nowhere to be seen, and soon I fell into a light sleep.
A clank, clank, clank broke the silence. Oh, fuck, I thought; fuck, shit, poo, crap; I pressed my eyes shut, bracing myself for what was to come. Clank, clank, clank, the afterlife was coming closer and closer until it was so close that I could hear it breathing heavily on my face.
The feeling of surprise is a curious one. When we are surprised, it’s a combination of many emotions bundled into one, so we react in strange ways; dropping cakes, jumping in the air, or my case, laughing uncontrollably. When I met the afterlife, I laughed, for it was not scary; it was quite the opposite; it was magnificent. Humungous, about the size of five oak trees piled on top of one another, the individual wore a long emerald coat that brushed the floor, detailed with leaves, and flowers, hemmed with white fluff. Its great green eyes were looking down at me; they were the land of Oz, filled with mystery and magic. The mythical figure was gold, and it wore a red pilot hat clogged to match, with bells attached to the tips. Slowly the figure bent down and presented me with a giant jam jar big enough to fit into; I hopped in. It held me in its gigantic hand, and then the golden mystery took off, thumping through the sky, past dying stars exploding; we ran through galaxies for many days and nights, until finally, we reached a field with tall grass and a giant chestnut tree in the centre a tree house rested in its branches. The sky was deep blue, filled with stars, planets and second suns. The afterlife walked towards the house in the tree, so I followed it.
And… what happened next? Well, I won’t spoil it all for you.
Sky People
I saw the Sky people. I saw them under an olive tree next to a lavender field; they were about the size of my thumb. Together with the birds, they were sowing wings out of driftwood scavenged from the nearby seas and pinecones that had fallen from the neighbouring trees. Their wings were beautifully textured and had earthy tones.
A few birds were mixing lavender perfume in small vats they had crafted from acorn lids, pouring the sweet smell into little baths.
‘Why are you bathing in lavender perfume?’ I asked curiously.
One of the Sky people turned around and looked at me. Its eyes were pooling with wisdom;
‘Even when lavender dies, it leaves a sweet aroma of life behind, which we keep in our cupboards and under our pillows. We are the memories of loved; together with the birds, we fly to the sun and onto the land of unknown.’
