The House of Hope #2 - short story for those who need to heal

reminder of the past

I woke up to the blaring heat of the sun on my face, the concrete burning my back, and my eyes squinting at the sudden light. I was no longer inside but out on the street, and as my eyesight stabilized, I saw the man with the eyepatch staring down at me.

"Up," he commanded. I gasped, sitting up immediately. "About time."

"Where... Where are we?"

It was broad daylight, and people stood waiting for the walk signal to turn green. It was fall when I fell asleep, but where I currently was felt like summer. Sweat was beginning to pool around my neck. The man narrowed his eyes at me, clicking his tongue.

Unlike everyone who was wearing shorts and thin clothes as if it was summer, his long trench coat was thick, a contrasting fashionable choice. I stood up.

"Come," he instructed, and I opened my mouth to scream that I was not going to go when...

When someone walked past me. Through my body. I lifted my hands to see that they were transparent.

"Come!" he demanded, the man impatiently waving a hand. I was too shocked to register what was going on, the man grabbing my hand and pulling me through the waves of people. "I do not wait for anyone, woman. You must use my presence wisely."

"I-I-I... I'm dead," I whispered. But for someone who wanted to be dead, I did not feel happy at all. "Is this what death is?"

He smirked. "Death means everything. It's paramount to understand that; it means heaven and hell. It means seeing the ones you love cry and heal. It's a never-ending cycle. You think the afterlife is easy? You'll be plunged into a cycle, unhappier than ever, because then you realize that it's a loop you can't get out of."

I stammered out something I couldn't make out, the man continuing to speak in a deep rumble of annoyance.

"You humans... Such complete, utter, idiots." We had stopped in front of a hospital, my eyes narrowing at the big and thick TV screen. The news was on.

"The IMF Crisis is forecasted to cause pegged exchange rates. Without monetary policies to combat overheating pressures..."

I stood there, gaping at the TV screen. No way. This wasn't the present day. The IMF Crisis happened twenty-six years ago, and I knew this because my parents used to say that to me every single time I did them wrong.