STORIES

The Wrong Afterlife

344 words. Approximately 2 minutes reading time

The last thing I remember was lying on the ground in the rain, hearing the sounds fade away as I got colder and colder. Then, I saw the light. I went towards it.

I was expecting to find myself in front of St Peter, or at least some other judge of my soul. I was disappointed when, instead, I found myself in the middle of a jungle. I caught occasional glimpses of others around me, but nobody solid. Other ghosts passing through here, maybe?

I decided there was no use in staying here, so I start to walk in a random direction. I got lost several times going around the trees.  Since I didn’t know where I started, there didn’t seem to be much different. I heard a roar like I’ve never heard before. It wasn’t a big roar; in fact, just the opposite. But as small as it was, I could feel it go through me, along with a primal terror. I ran, then found myself running into the only solid person here.

He was a big man. Not a tall man or a fat man, but a big one. Solid muscle, covered in hair. He wore only a simple strip of woven material over his shoulder.  It seemed to be more utility than modesty, as it held spears to his back but covered nothing.

He looked at me and grunted. Then he shook his head and turned toward the roaring sound. That’s when I saw it. It looked like an elephant but was much smaller and hairier. Almost like…a miniature mammoth?

I looked around and realized the truth. Heaven wasn’t created by modern man, it was created by the first men.

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve spent here, hoping to find my way into a more modern heaven. I’m sick of mammoth steak (even if it cooks itself as soon as it’s killed), and I’m not much closer to having a conversation with Gronk. I can’t even kill myself to move on to a different heaven. Believe me. I’ve tried.

comments powered by Disqus