I am so tired of waiting.
It seems like I’ve been pinned to this cold slab for a very long time. When I first arrived here, I tried to keep track of the days and nights, but it was impossible. I used to mark time by the movement of the sun, or the hour displayed on my watch, but now I have no point of reference.
It is maddening.
When I first awakened, I felt confused, disoriented, and totally repelled by an awful stench. It took me a while to realize I was the source of the noxious odor. I reeked of rot.
My body was disintegrating, its molecules morphing into a full-fledged physical act of kamikaze destruction, yet I was powerless to halt it or to even slow this activity. I had not chosen this mortifying putrefaction process. In fact, I had always prided myself on following excellent hygiene practices.
When I first became aware, I felt claustrophobic, jammed into this dark place that was airless and reeked of previous occupants. It certainly was not a five-star accommodation, but then, I had not even made a reservation to occupy this space.
My mind was fogged a bit, and I tried to be sensible and think back to exactly how I had managed to find myself here alone and, obviously, forgotten. It did not make sense. I reached through the spiderwebs tangling my thoughts and tried to sweep them away so I could clarify my contemplations. It seemed I would start to ask a question and then find myself drifting off, and later, although I cannot say for certain if it was minutes or hours or even days later, I sparked a continuation of that thought. There were several important questions burning in my brain. If only I could keep my mind alert long enough to focus upon those questions and then I might possibly find answers to my queries.
The odd thing was that I could not feel my body. I wondered if it was because I was currently being housed in a limited and narrow space. Then I tried to open my eyes. It felt like a flash of cognitive brilliance that I had not considered this sooner. Maybe I believed I was in total darkness because I had not opened my eyes.
I focused on trying to open my eyelids as I attempted to use the power of my determination and my thoughts. Such a simple thing to open or close the eyelids, yet I could not feel any change. In fact, I could not actually feel my eyelids or my orbits/eyeballs at all. It was very strange.
The blackness took me again for a while. When I was cognizant once again, I tried to remember what I had been doing and why it had seemed to be a crucial objective. If only I could see just a little bit of light.
Had I gone blind? Why was I lying here in the abyss, seemingly unable to move, and weaving in and out of time?
Time? I thought about that odd demarcation and how time had once seemed so important, but now meant absolutely nothing to me.
Once again, I struggled to open my eyelids, but with the greatest frustration, I determined I had absolutely no control over them. For all I knew, I was staring into the darkness with my eyes completely open and yet I was unable to tell if this were true or not.
Vaguely, I thought of unborn children sequestered in the womb. I knew they could hear sounds and their mother’s voice but I did not know if they could see. After all, they were surrounded by darkness and the cavern of the uterus which cocooned them against harm and provided a cozy home for babies in waiting, growing like a wildfire in a forest, devouring all that was provided through the maternal placenta.
Why was I allowing my thoughts to meander back to the beginning? Yet, I did know babies demonstrated open eyes on ultrasonic photographs that were stashed in an album awaiting the arrival of the newborn. Did I have children? It seemed important to know the answer to that question.
Was it possible that I was an unborn child awaiting my birth and my expulsion from this darkness into the light, and I’d be forced into the grim reality of having to suck oxygen into my lungs to continue my viability?
I paused on that thought. It was fleeting and hovering like a winged fairy of the old tales. Then I lost it.
It did not seem possible because I was quite certain fetuses moved in the womb, and yet I was unable to stir a muscle or even lift an eyelid.
Anger should be my usual response, but I could not invoke it. It was far too exhausting.
What of this breathing thing? I could not feel my chest rise and fall. I could not even move my tongue to taste the precious flavor of oxygen. That thought was ominous, and I shut it down.
When I was aware again, gently, I decided to try to move my head. I focused my thoughts upon that with all the power within me. I could not move even a fraction, and the effort wiped me out and the blackness swallowed me once again.
Why did I continue to futilely struggle against this imprisonment, this paralysis, this stifling and odious attempt to regain power? I knew it was important and I had to keep trying. I had to know why I was here and if there was some avenue of escape. I could not spend eternity in this darkness, in this reeking chamber of foul odors that intensified each time I became aware again.
And how was it that I could smell at all? Or was this but a freakish tendril of my imagination?
The times between expanded into lengthier intervals. Even though I no longer had any access to measurement of time, I just felt it was true.
If I were a fetus in the womb, then certainly I would hear my mother’s heartbeat, and I would also be able to kick her bladder and force her to wet herself. At this thought, I imagined a smile upon my face as I touched this memory, even though I did not know or understand its origin.
The only sounds I could hear were muffled and appeared to be far away. There were no words spoken, only the sounds of movement, and as I began to listen more attentively, I occasionally captured the sound of laughter. There had to be humans nearby. Why didn’t they see or hear me? Yet I could not make a sound to signal them. Certainly, if they knew I was in this dark place, they would try to assist me.
A thunderous crashing sound awakened me. Had I been sleeping? Why did I require sleep and not food or drink?
I tried to identify the sound. It was like a door being opened and something being pulled out as though it was on rollers, like a turkey being pulled from the oven to be basted. It was an odd thought. I remembered that I did not like to eat turkey, but I loved the smell of the bird roasting in the oven and warming the house with a sense of happiness and family.
Family? I was being threaded back to that idea of mother again and children. This was a very strange dream. I had not considered it earlier, but it must be true that I was dreaming. Undoubtedly, it was a nightmare (with the exception of the roast turkey idea), and I would awaken soon, though I had to recognize this was more of a sleep paralysis as I could not move.
Aliens. I had been abducted by aliens and they were keeping me in a compartment and taking me out to poke and prod me at their leisure. It seemed to be the simplest conclusion.
I really needed a bath. My odor was overwhelming and foul. If I had eaten, I might well be in danger of vomiting. Would someone come and clean the mess? Or would I be left to wallow in the pigsty of my own emesis?
Those voices. People talking, followed by a god-awful howl, followed by horrendous weeping. If I were able to move, I would have shivered or cringed or tried to creep into a corner far, far away from that terrible sorrow.
I wanted to blank out, to escape from this tragedy, even though I did not know its cause, but I remained aware.
“My son,” a woman sobbed.
My body should be shivering. It was damn cold in here, but the emotional onslaught of her voice nearly shattered me. I could not escape it. The blackness refused to come.
“Thank you. You are a strong woman,” a male voice responded, and then their voices were muffled as he seemed to lead her away, and, at last, I had the peace of silence and oblivion.
When I was aware again, I remembered the words spoken and their voices and, despite the sadness I had experienced, I also felt relieved I had heard human voices, and I had understood the words. I had missed an opportunity to make myself known. Why hadn’t I shouted? Why hadn’t I let them know I was here waiting? Didn’t I deserve caring and also tears? Could it be possible I was someone’s son?
I shimmered in and out of cognizance and always tried my best to hang on to something solid so I could build on that awareness with each awakening. Where did I go when the darkness swallowed me? Did I truly slumber, or did my mind leave this place entirely. If so, I was unaware of its journey.
After a while, I forgot to think about the smells, and it was a relief. I had often been cursed with hypersomnia and smelled odors more acutely than others did. That ability seemed to be easing up a bit. Still, I could not imagine why someone had not come to bathe me.
Was I in a state of suspended animation or cryostasis? Or a medically induced coma so I would be able to heal without the trauma of feeling excruciating pain? I fumbled for ideas and possibilities and came up lacking.
I was just rising from a rather protracted and lengthy period of unconsciousness, when I heard the voices closer now. It was two males discussing something and there was obvious aggravation or irritation in the voice of the one male. I felt as though I was eavesdropping on a secret assignation, and it was entirely possible I would not wish to hear what they were discussing. I had no options. I could not move. I could not run. I could not even open my damn eyelids—although now they felt different, as though they were thinning or crumbling, and I did not understand how that could be possible. I had certainly not overworked them, even though I had tried my best to cause them to function appropriately.
“I’ve encountered lots of trashy behavior in my career, but this one really rises to the top for selfishness,” a male voice said, in between causing loud sounds as he opened and closed doors or drawers. I still could not determine which it was.
“They don’t teach you this. It’s learning as you go. You have to try to understand human nature and it really can reveal the ugliness of human beings during these times,” another male stated.
“I know. You’ve been at this for a lifetime. I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you always treat everyone with respect, even when they are behaving like beasts.”
Sharp laughter erupted and I wanted to put my hands to my ears to shut it out, as I found the sound to be abrasive, but then I remembered I could not move my hands. Did I even have hands. I also could not feel them.
“I just try to treat everyone the way I would want to be treated in a similar situation. It’s just common sense and a bit of biting the tongue. Even when there is obvious ignorance, and even downright hatred being spewed, I maintain my calm. I am the captain of this ship and here to guide them through these events and this process.”
Laughter again, although this time it was a bit less abrasive.
I tried to determine exactly why I was feeling so befouled and dirtied by this conversation which I was already finding it rather difficult to understand. Words did not flow easily in my mind anymore, as though I was losing context and comprehension, and that I might never fully recover the ability to understand.
“Okay, Charles. What irritates you the most about this situation?”
Charles. I now had a name. Or at least I had to believe it was the name of a human. I tried to consider whether I had known anyone who had named their dog or cat Charles, and I could not come up with an answer. I did not understand why names were even important. Like time, names had been sucked down a rathole and I really didn’t care at all what happened to them.
“They’re filthy rich.”
More laughter. I could not understand the reason for the laughter and why being rich was funny, or was it just the filthy part that was humorous?
“They can’t take it with them. That’s what they all seem to forget. You might be buried with your favorite motorcycle but that takes a huge amount of money and special approval and there’s a trail of people pissed off because they didn’t get to keep that motorcycle or, at the very least, sell it and go on a Caribbean cruise with the money.”
There was silence and it sounded like the rattle of a bag of potato chips. I remember that sound, as I loved snacking on potato chips. Yet here I was, a listener, and no one was about to offer me chips or even a sip of water. Too late, I wondered at the possibility I was in the famed and dreaded place called Hell.
Their words were starting to run together, and I was concerned I might go dark again and not understand where this conversation was going. It seemed crucial. If I had hair on my head or the nape of my neck, those hairs would now be rising in warning, but I had absolutely no idea whether I was bald or wearing a full mop of hair.
“Yah. I read in the paper there was a big court battle over finances. Besides insurance, there is allegedly a massive fortune stashed away in several banks. They couldn’t wait to get multiple copies of the death certificate.”
“Yes. I had a copy of a death certificate when my grandmother died. I paid for the extra copy because I wanted to see the cause of death and whether or not I should try to sue the hospital and physicians for malpractice.”
“Ah. So, you’re one of those ambulance chasers?” More laughter erupted and it truly was grating on my nerves.
“No. Just needed to be sure. I actually cared about my grandmother. She was a sweet old lady and died under rather mysterious circumstances.”
“Well, we all know about those death certs. One guy pronounces death but doesn’t actually have a clue to the cause of expiration.”
There was a low-grade mumbling and the sound of the chip bag being crinkled and tossed.
I could almost taste the salt which was very strange as I most certainly could not move my mouth or my tongue.
“So. What are we going to do with this guy?”
Prickles of anticipation crawled across my head, and, somehow, I knew I was the guy, and they were talking about me. It meant they’d known I was here all along and they had done absolutely nothing to try to assist me. I should not be here. I should be anywhere but here. Perhaps even riding the motorcycle they were speaking about so cavalierly.
“Well, they grabbed the money and ran. Probably in Acapulco right now, sunning themselves like lizards and drinking banana monkeys.”
“Do people really drink those things?”
“Yes. Not bad. Exotic. Enough of those will do your liver a nice big abscess.”
“I think I’ll pass on that. I’m in no hurry to induce cirrhosis or any other unfriendly disease.”
“Yah. Wonder if this guy knew those banana monkeys would bring him to our place? Apparently, they don’t come with warning labels.”
“Does anyone read those warning labels anyway?”
“No.”
“So, how long has it been? I know the guy has been cooling his heels for quite a while now.”
“Six months. Good thing we had plenty of space in the cooler.”
“Are you heading to Mexico for a signature?”
“Nah. Trying to handle it as peacefully as possible. They beat the hell out of each other squabbling over the fortune, and most of that is settled now. Still waiting for our part of it.”
“Okay. Going through the legal maneuvers?”
“Yes. The issue is that they got the death certs and filed for the money, but no one would sign for the important detail. Until today. Finally got the courts to press the issue. If we get paid for it, that will be a bonus, but now the important thing is to do right by this guy. He had loads of money, but apparently it wasn’t enough for his family to take proper care of his final disposition.”
“How often do you run into these issues?”
“A few cases here and there. No one wants to sign because they think it means they’ll have to pay the bill.”
“Sad story.”
“We finally got the go-ahead from the judge, and it will probably be a freebie as its nearly impossible to get money from these devoted family members.”
“You’re beginning to sound a bit jaded, Charles. Time to retire yet?”
“I’ll probably fall in when we are firing it up.”
More muffled laughter but this time I felt a chill creep up the back of my neck and then I actually blinked my eyes. I wanted to shut my ears and snuff out any possibility of auditory information slapping me. The words they were about to speak were unspeakable to me and, most certainly, unbearable.
“Did the old guy happen to make his wishes known? Funeral? Pristine casket? Or cremation?”
“He got his money by being quite conservative so opted for cremation in his final planning, although I can bet you, he never thought he’d ever actually die. Other people die. Never happens to millionaires, right?”
If I had any hair on my head, I was quite certain it would now be on fire. Someone’s rotten and greedy family had grabbed a fortune but refused to sign or pay for final disposal. It appeared that was my ungrateful family, and I had been lying here in this dark place for the past six months while my beloved family was drinking banana monkeys in Mexico, refusing to spend even a dime of my hard-earned fortune on a burial, a funeral, or even a cremation.
How had it come to this? What was the true cause of my death? Who had signed the death certificate? Did they check the last drink I had or test for toxicology? Then I recalled I had been attending a family gathering, despite the fact I preferred not to gather with my relatives who always whined about their incessant need for funds, just to see if they could get a loan from me. It was also my birthday. They’d gone all out with me footing the bill of course. A pretty, young girl jumped out of a massive cake and then lap-danced me which I did not protest. She also kissed me smack on the lips. I remember the odd bitter flavor to her kiss and thought I was losing my touch. I had considered myself to be a bit of a Romeo in earlier years.
Well, I’d made my fortune by being ruthless, and I was now certain that talent and skill had not deserted me. I would make sure each one of them involved in this plot would pay dearly. I stretched my neck a little, testing it, knowing I would regain movement and do so quickly. I now had a purpose.
Death? You see how easily I skipped over that. What was going on here? Was I really and truly dead? But then how come I was aware and rotting and reeking but quite capable of causing hell, a price that must be paid? My rotting lips shed a bit of skin as I twisted my mouth into a sinister smile.
I began to plan with all the excellent skill necessary to achieve my revenge on this worthless family of mine.
Of the greatest importance was knowing I had to hold this body together and keep it from being cremated while I was still aware. I hated fire and was quite certain I would hate it even more if I was shoved into the crematory, and they lit her up and I was still awake and not even able to scream and let them know I was dead but not truly dead.
