On Our Last Night
Epilogue: Sparks Collide
-Thomas-
Ya know how in sappy novels and trashy life time movies death is always proclaimed by the long tunnel with a brilliant, translucent white light at the end of it. A feeling of eternal peace and an omniscient point of view is matched with said tunnel, all three your only consolation prizes for the game of Life you endured. You dive into the white light and everything is perfect, everything is calm. You’re Home.
Let me tell you why that’s a load of bullshit.
I never got a white tunnel. I never got an over whelming feeling of pure, untainted or messed with peace. And I certainly don’t know everything-past, future, or present- no matter how much I like to pretend otherwise sometimes. When I died I went from one exquisite hell hole to another. I woke up writhing in pain from a throat that felt as if it were on fire in a patch of mint colored grass outside a cobblestone fence with a black metal gate. A woman was sitting on a plaster boulder maybe five feet away from me, laughing with every tortured breath I took. I croaked at her for help as pain engulfed me, she just laughed and stood up.
I glared up at her for a long time until the pain finally subsided or I grew immune to it, I’m still not sure which of the two caused it to stop, and then she helped me sit up. “Why didn’t you help me?!”I demanded hoarsely, too busy glaring at her to take in my unusual surroundings.
“Because I didn’t want too.” The jovial woman sang, her charcoal colored hair whipping in a soft breeze that blew through. “Because right now a little boy is getting a phone call from his half brother’s mom saying his big brother won’t make it to his birthday party this year, or the year after, or the year after. Hell. He won’t make it to see him ever.” Her voice was cold. So cold.
Immediately my heart fell to the bottom of my stomach. I looked around slowly. This wasn’t my bedroom. The soft, squishy stuff I was laying on wasn’t my mattress. The woman over me wasn’t a drunken hallucination or a one night stand I’d brought home. I was laying in a field in the middle of no where. She and I were the only two people around. “What do you mean?” I said carefully. This woman was a psychopath.
“Your little brother…Alex right?” The woman frowned for a heartbeat. “Alex. Your mother just called to tell him you were dead.”
“Dead?” My ears were ringing. I was supposed to go see Alex at the end of the week, I’d been planning the trip for three months now. Fly out Friday half passed four and then stay until he started school again in early September. Dad and Alex and I had been planning this trip since they moved nearly two years ago. “I can’t be dead.” I said finally.
“Oh?” The woman laughed coldly, her voice piercingly high. “And why can’t you be dead?”
“Because I’m twenty bloody years old!” I roared, jumping to my feet. “Because I have a little brother waiting for me across the damned ocean!”
“You drank yourself to death. Twenty or not you drank yourself into this place. You were the one who couldn’t put the bottle down long enough to think about your liver or any other part of your body the alcohol could affect.” The woman walked to the plaster rock and sat back down, sifting her fingers through her hair.
“So…I’m in Heaven?” My mind was still lingering on my little brother. My heart ached to be there with him right now. Holding his hand. Telling him everything was okay. He was probably destroyed.
“Far from it.” Again the woman stood up. I watched her pace away from me, finally taking her in. She wore a long white dress with a tight top and a flared skirt. Her dark hair was long, it fell to the small of her back. Two large white wings protruded from her back, they were beautiful, coated in feathers, almost as long and as wide as she was tall. Her figure was nice. It wasn’t hard to stare at. But at the moment I was too focused on getting home to care.
“Then where am I?”
“Purgatory, I suppose that’s what you’d call it. It has many names. I’ve heard at least four or five.” She turned to look at me, pushing her hair out of her face. “I’m Tourmaline,” she extended one pale arm, one tiny hand towards me.
"Like the gemstone?” I frowned, staring at her hand.
“Yes.” Tourmaline kept her hand out impatiently.
“Thomas,” I shook her hand quickly. “Most people call me Tommy though.”
Tourmaline smiled. “I know.”
I looked around, running my hand through my hair. “I’m dead now? I’m stuck in Purgatory. How do I get out of here?”
“You’ll know…the Big Guy’ll give you a sign.” She smiled kindly.
“So now I just sit and wait?”
“Pretty much.”
Ya know how in sappy novels and trashy life time movies death is always proclaimed by the long tunnel with a brilliant, translucent white light at the end of it. A feeling of eternal peace and an omniscient point of view is matched with said tunnel, all three your only consolation prizes for the game of Life you endured. You dive into the white light and everything is perfect, everything is calm. You’re Home.
Let me tell you why that’s a load of bullshit.
I never got a white tunnel. I never got an over whelming feeling of pure, untainted or messed with peace. And I certainly don’t know everything-past, future, or present- no matter how much I like to pretend otherwise sometimes. When I died I went from one exquisite hell hole to another. I woke up writhing in pain from a throat that felt as if it were on fire in a patch of mint colored grass outside a cobblestone fence with a black metal gate. A woman was sitting on a plaster boulder maybe five feet away from me, laughing with every tortured breath I took. I croaked at her for help as pain engulfed me, she just laughed and stood up.
I glared up at her for a long time until the pain finally subsided or I grew immune to it, I’m still not sure which of the two caused it to stop, and then she helped me sit up. “Why didn’t you help me?!”I demanded hoarsely, too busy glaring at her to take in my unusual surroundings.
“Because I didn’t want too.” The jovial woman sang, her charcoal colored hair whipping in a soft breeze that blew through. “Because right now a little boy is getting a phone call from his half brother’s mom saying his big brother won’t make it to his birthday party this year, or the year after, or the year after. Hell. He won’t make it to see him ever.” Her voice was cold. So cold.
Immediately my heart fell to the bottom of my stomach. I looked around slowly. This wasn’t my bedroom. The soft, squishy stuff I was laying on wasn’t my mattress. The woman over me wasn’t a drunken hallucination or a one night stand I’d brought home. I was laying in a field in the middle of no where. She and I were the only two people around. “What do you mean?” I said carefully. This woman was a psychopath.
“Your little brother…Alex right?” The woman frowned for a heartbeat. “Alex. Your mother just called to tell him you were dead.”
“Dead?” My ears were ringing. I was supposed to go see Alex at the end of the week, I’d been planning the trip for three months now. Fly out Friday half passed four and then stay until he started school again in early September. Dad and Alex and I had been planning this trip since they moved nearly two years ago. “I can’t be dead.” I said finally.
“Oh?” The woman laughed coldly, her voice piercingly high. “And why can’t you be dead?”
“Because I’m twenty bloody years old!” I roared, jumping to my feet. “Because I have a little brother waiting for me across the damned ocean!”
“You drank yourself to death. Twenty or not you drank yourself into this place. You were the one who couldn’t put the bottle down long enough to think about your liver or any other part of your body the alcohol could affect.” The woman walked to the plaster rock and sat back down, sifting her fingers through her hair.
“So…I’m in Heaven?” My mind was still lingering on my little brother. My heart ached to be there with him right now. Holding his hand. Telling him everything was okay. He was probably destroyed.
“Far from it.” Again the woman stood up. I watched her pace away from me, finally taking her in. She wore a long white dress with a tight top and a flared skirt. Her dark hair was long, it fell to the small of her back. Two large white wings protruded from her back, they were beautiful, coated in feathers, almost as long and as wide as she was tall. Her figure was nice. It wasn’t hard to stare at. But at the moment I was too focused on getting home to care.
“Then where am I?”
“Purgatory, I suppose that’s what you’d call it. It has many names. I’ve heard at least four or five.” She turned to look at me, pushing her hair out of her face. “I’m Tourmaline,” she extended one pale arm, one tiny hand towards me.
"Like the gemstone?” I frowned, staring at her hand.
“Yes.” Tourmaline kept her hand out impatiently.
“Thomas,” I shook her hand quickly. “Most people call me Tommy though.”
Tourmaline smiled. “I know.”
I looked around, running my hand through my hair. “I’m dead now? I’m stuck in Purgatory. How do I get out of here?”
“You’ll know…the Big Guy’ll give you a sign.” She smiled kindly.
“So now I just sit and wait?”
“Pretty much.”
Notes
I dont know where this idea came to me.But
Ya know.
-xoxoDR
7/22/13