Blink {Featured}

Chapter Eleven

Death stood straight, removed his hands from near John's nostrils and the wall, and a glazed look fogged up his eyes. 'Yeah.' The glazed look didn't go away and he turned towards the grey. 'Yeah, I suppose I should.' From over his shoulder, Death peeked at John, then looked back at the grey and clicked his fingers. 'You may wanna sit down for this.' A chair appeared at the core of the grey spot, and the dark grey became more a medium to dark grey, as if someone was trying to rekindle the wick on that candle, blowing the tiny coals back to life. With the bit of extra light, it became clear they were in a room. John could see the four black walls clearly now, only a few meters long each, as if they were inside a black cube.

Fucking strange, but then his whole bloody life was strange. He shrugged, walked over, and plopped himself down in the chair, slouching like he was back in Acko the Bastard's class. It felt good, like something normal and normal things were becoming rarer and rarer in his messed up life.

'Alright, I'm sitting.' John gestured with a hand. 'Have at it.'

Death started to sit, and a chair appeared beneath his ass. Impressive.

'Well, John Finnie born 22-07-1987, you were supposed to--'

John held up a hand. 'Can you cut the born twenty-two, blah blah blah? I know my birthday, and it's just us here.'

'Well,' Death said. 'Yeah, okay. I guess.' With one finger he smoothed out his eyebrow. 'So then John, as I was saying, you should have died today, nineteen oh seven...' A guilty look crossed Death's face. 'I mean, you know, today. You were supposed to die in a car accident.'

'What!' John sat up, fists balled together. I die today? I thought you said I'm not dead!' So Death was a fucking liar and a prick.

'No, no.' With his hands Death made calming motions, patting the air like Beyoncé's ass was there. 'Just calm down John Finnie. You are not dead.'

'Well where are we then? What's going on?'

Death scratched his head. 'You're in...the shadows, the in between place. Your body is on the earth, in hospital.'

What? The spit in John's throat seemed clawing, sticky. He swallowed and sat back. Fuck me, so this wasn't his body? He inspected each of his hands in turn, then held them up to Death like evidence. 'But what is this then. This is a body...isn't it?'

Death shook his head like a patient psychiatrist.

'Fuck.' What else could he say? Stunned he sat just breathing, not even thinking, until finally words returned to him. 'Am I ever going back?'

It was Death's turn to lean back. 'Well, that depends I guess. This is really a first for me.'

'Really? So, I'm the first in this shadows place?'

'Oh, no,' Death said. 'Not the first in the shadows, the first one not in the Book.'

John rolled his eyes. Not the Book again. 'This isn't really helping me. What's not in the Book? What have you done with Charlie and my Dad?' Something squeezed John's chest tight and the air wouldn't come in. His nostrils flared and he frowned. Shit, he had to get out of here. The black walls closed in around him, trapping him, suffocating him, pushing against his sanity until at last, grabbing his head in both hands, he screamed.

'Oh, s'cuse me a sec.' Just like that Death walked into the black wall, and the grey faded away until there was only pitch darkness.

'Wait!' John screamed, terror in his voice and chest. Fuck, this couldn't be happening. Nothing made sense, and he was trapped in this fucking box. There had to be a way out. He leapt up and ran at the wall Death had disappeared through and hit its surface square on. Pain bloomed from his nose, warm and sharp. Shit. He banged his fists against its surface.

'Help! Someone, anyone! Heelp!' Nothing. This forsaken shadows place had him and wouldn't let him leave. Against the wall he leaned, then slid slowly to a sitting position. What was happening on the earth now? Was his heart failing? Was mam crying? Maybe Charlie was holding his hand, maybe Dad was kissing his forehead. Images of himself in a white hospital gown, bandaged and bloodied, came to mind. Images of pipes in his lungs and down his throat and in his nose.

No! No no no. This couldn't be happening. What about the lotto ticket--they were going to be rich, they were going to be a family. Little Charlie, she...she finally had a dad. They were going to be happy forever. And Samantha fucking Grimes with her sizzling hot body was kissing him--him! This shit was so unfair.

'Help!' he yelled again, but nobody was coming, that much he knew. Looked like he was stuck. Shit, he pinched his eyes shut and held his head between his knees. Looking at black all the time messed with his head, messed with his eyes, made him feel crazy. 'Please if there's a God, get me out of this fucking hole.' Oh, crap had he just sworn at God? 'God, I'm sorry if you're there. I'm sorry for the Blinking and the cheating. I...' He was beyond caring and tears wet his cheeks, rolling warm and salty onto his lips. 'Please, let it end. Please, I just wanna go home.'

P.S.

The dark chapter (hehe). I hope it's been a good read, but let me know what your honest thoughts are. Srsly tho...I really want to know what you think. Is it convincing? Is there something you thought sounded wrong?

© Steve Ford & Joy Cronjé 2018