I was on my way to the bus stop when I first saw it. It was as white as the snow, and as bright as the sun. A white hearse. As I walked across my lawn, I ignored it. But then it stopped right in front of me on the road I was headed to cross. I didn't look directly at it, but I saw a person step out of the driver's side. Oh god, I thought to myself, Why did he step out of the hearse?
Slowly shifting my vision to look at the man, I watched him walk to the back of the vehicle. He was dressed all in white, I saw, with a burst of inky blackness for his ear-length hair and unholy black eyes. He'd opened the back door of the hearse, the door where they inserted the coffin. But that's all he did. After the door was open, he stood there like a servant holding the door open for his master.
I blinked a few times out of shock, and the man disappeared from my eyes along with the hearse. Like any sensible person, I took a two-mile detour around that spot on the road when all I needed to do was cross the street.
When I finally got to work, everything seemed scarily normal. Like nothing weird had happened to me a while ago.
My job was up on the twentieth floor of the building, so I of course took the elevator. As the shinning metal door slid open, my heart stopped. There stood the man driving the hearse, alone in solitude in the elevator's center. I gasped backing away. A smirk appeared on the man's face as he took a step towards me, but I was already racing up the steps to get to the civilization my work colleagues brought me. I burst through the stairwell door, panting from a lack of breath after running full-speed up twenty flights of stairs. The entire office was staring at me; a few of my closer companions gave me concerned looks, but most of them just snickered at my entrance.
Adjusting my hair and fixing my suit, I straightened my posture and speed walked to the meeting room. I had a meeting to get to today. Flinging open the door, I dove into my seat as the meeting bell rang to signal the beginning of the meeting. We were speaking with a Prince to consider building his American palace near our building, and how he wanted this palace to be designed. He had a man in robes standing next to him; most likely a servant. Him being a prince, it wouldn't have been uncommon for a personal servant to stand at his side, so I immediately took to ignoring the man.
The meeting droned on, earning the occasional "Yes, that sounds wonderful" or "No we can do better than that" from my mouth. It wasn't until the end of the meeting when the prince's servant began walking my way that I payed any attention to him. "Hello there," he said, his voice rough as sandpaper but missing the Arabian accent it should have held. I nodded a bit, pretending to scribble some notes onto the paper. "It's almost time."
Looking up at him in confusion, my heart stopped beating yet again. The man from the hearse. Yet again the meeting bell rang, this time signalling the end of the meeting. I graciously rushed out of my seat and out of the office, knocking a few employees over at the time but not really feeling the need to care. I had to get away from this ominous man that nobody else seem to notice.
I got to the elevator and pressed the button to go down, bouncing in my place as I waited not-so-patiently for it to arrive when footsteps echoed around me. I turned around, seeing the man walking gallantly towards me at a tortoise's pace. Gritting my teeth in anguish, I tensed up every nerve in my body, ready for a fight.
The elevator door opened, and I jumped inside the box and slammed my fist against the "CLOSE DOOR" button. A loud thump sounded against the metal as it began its decent, making me feel trapped yet calm that he could not reach me. What did he mean? I thought to myself, It's almost time? Time for what? The elevator jerked to a stop on the main floor, and I was almost reluctant to have the door open. What if the man was there? The door slid open, and I was grateful to find that he wasn't there. I rushed out of the building, thrusting open the door in a fury.
Much to my surprise, my cellphone went off in my pocket, blaring the sound of "Blood" by My Chemical Romance. Pulling it out, I opened my cell, and old flip-phone, and said a soft "Hello?"
"Sweetie, it's me. Your mother." Instant relief washed over me, and before I could stop myself I blurted out my entire story to her. There was silence from her end for a moment, and then she whispered, "Sweet heart, why don't you come on over to my house? We could sit down and talk about this together." I told her it was a good idea, and that I would be there shortly. I ran the entire way, nearly getting run over by nearly ten cars as I crossed the roads.
When I finally got to my mother's house, she was already sitting at the kitchen table. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a coffee mug, and she seemed to be shaking a bit. "Son," she whispered, "sit down please."
I took a step to move, but the sound of tires pulling into the driveway outside caught my attention. I walked to the window overlooking the front lawn, seeing a white van with calming blue letters on the side. "MENTAL CARE UNIT," the van read. I shook my head frantically, growling at my mother before rushing up to my room. "I'M NOT LETTING THEM TAKE ME," I shouted, locking myself in my room.
Turning from the door, I glanced around my old room. The gun from my childhood was still there, glistening in the afternoon sun with a beauty of freedom. I wasn't going to let them take me away. "It's time," I heard the sandpaper voice whisper. Spinning on my heels, I saw the hearse driver directly in front of me. Snarling viciously, I lunged for the gun and pointed it at him. "Stay away," I hissed. He smiled calmly, stepping towards me more. He rested his hand on my shoulder, saying, "You can't change your fate. It's time." Without my arm in control, I turned the gun on myself.
The hearse driver, sparkling white suit and all, snapped his fingers. Bang, came the crack of a gun. My gun.
(Mother)
I leaned over the casket, crying my eyes out. My poor poor son, if only I would have listened to him. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the white hearse rolling into the drive. My son was about to get buried. The driver stepped out of the hearse next to me. "When will the time come for my son's burial?" I asked him. He looked at me, I could see. I looked at him, unable to look away from his dark black eyes.
He adjusted his white suit, running his hand through his black hair as he replied, "It's almost time."
(((((The hearse driver is someone I keep seeing, and I try to ignore him. But he keeps getting closer and closer to me. He isn't evil or anything, it seems like he's protecting me. In this dream I had, I was backed into a corner when he showed up and started fighting off the demons attacking me. But then again I've died three times at birth along with being born dead. Demons sort of want me, because I'm an "undead soul".)))))
