The Dead [m.g.c]

*5*

*5*

Michael was currently sliding on a black leather jacket. He straightened it out and looked at himself in satisfaction. He was no longer the awkward kid who wondered about the weirdest shit.

Actually to everyone on Earth he was still that, just the weird dead kid who wondered about the weirdest shit. Of course he didn’t know that and quite frankly didn’t care.

Life here seemed good for now. He became the person he envisioned and now he was living out everything he only dreamt of.

“You ready to face the big leagues?” Another who worked in primpatory came and asked him, he shook his head yes and he led him down another hallway.

This the hallways became less grand, more boring, it looked like….a lawyer’s office.

“Where are we going? I thought it was time to go hang out you know?” Michael asked, he really wanted to find that person who told him this was Heaven and Hell and get more of an answer than what he was given.

The man chuckled, “You have to face judgment first.” He opened the door letting Michael walk in.

There in the chair an old man sat, wise years showed on his face. He flipped through papers as putting folders in different piles and pulling one forward opening it.

Michael sat down looking up to be respectful to the man and what he saw was shocking, “Grandad?!”

He gripped the armrest tighter not believing his eyes.

His granddad sighed facing his only grandson, “Son why did you do it? I gave you simple instructions when I died and here you are.” He dropped the file on the desk.

“I was curious.” Michael said timidly.

“Well in this case, curiosity did kill the cat.” He rubbed his temples, “Just give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send you to the land of no existence.

“The land of no existence?” Michael leaned forward it was the first real piece of information he received about down here.

“Shut it Michael.” He said sternly.

Michael plopped back in the chair. Reminding them both of the day Granddad was emitted to the hospital.

**

“Goddamitt Michael, you never perform like the rest of the family! You need to step up your game! Let go of this stupid fantasy of yours and be reminded of the reality of life. Your have my name as your middle name and you need to live up to those expectations.” Granddad shouted at him.

Michael swung up off the couch and shouted back, “It’s not stupid! It’s curiosity!”

“Well it’s downright the dumbest thing you could be doing with you time. Pick up a book for God’s sake.”

Gordon began to leave the room when a sudden pain lurched in his chest. He leaned an arm on the wall and clutched at the area in pain…his heart.

“Michael go get…your mother.” He spoke full of air and gasped for more after.

Michael ran for his mother and brought her back.

“Mike call the ambulance.”

---

In the hospital they made Gordon stable, but he was weak. His visitors came in at small numbers. Michael was one of the last of them.

“Michael, son” he spoke reaching out for Michael. Michael went over to the bed grabbing his grandfather’s hand, “Don’t you dare let my name become something of shame.”

He let go.

---

At 4:25 PM Gordon Clifford passed away due to a heart attack.

**

The room was full of uncomfortable air between the two. Michael looked over at the clock, apparently time still mattered down here, 4:25 PM.

Gordon rubbed his chest a little, his face showing the discomfort.

“Don’t tell me we still have medical problems down here.” Michael groaned and rubbed his forehead thinking of all the hereditary problems he would still face now.

“No, you listen and listen well.” He said leaning forward, “This is the only thing I’m sharing with you. I had to figure it out for myself and dammit so do you. The time you died, whatever pain or whatever caused it follows you….like a reminder you are dead.”

Silence. Michael thought about his death, what happened, what he felt ---- nothing, he felt nothing, he was content.

“Granddad what if you were content though when you died and didn’t fight it?” His granddad look at him and sighed, “Then you’re one of the few who will be wanted to be killed.”

“And I can’t get you out of this mess Michael. I’m sending you on your own, a group will choose you-your sentence is unclaimed.”

He slammed a gavel down and Michael’s chair moved backwards out of the room turning to face him, forwards as it rocketed down the hallway towards the open door and threw him out.

He flew in the air and landed face first in the ground with a thud and groan.

“Just great” He groaned.

He looked around, “Even better.”

A junkyard. Michael Clifford was in a junkyard.

// it's currently 4:48 AM, I've been up since 2AM, what else better do I have to do than sit in front of the black hole I call a laptop and browse the internet and write for you. :) 

Anyways you guys are so awesome as a always keep commenting, like no one realizes how much motivation even one amazing comment is (but more is better). Like if I'm not reading a story on the way to a class or 10 mins before (usually what happens) I will try to comment (going to get better about it now), 

OH your daily yik yak wisdom: "What do you call a fish with a tie? soFISHticated" 

Well with that it's 5 till I'm actually supposed to be up and getting ready (5AM) so I'm going to post this and get ready. UM and if you haven't heard of Manchester Orchestra go give 'em a listen...this is off there acoutstic album so they have like really loud rock music, but it's good.