Killing the Soul
Ivan called to his friends but they didn't hear. He could not
understand why. They were only a few feet away from him. Then he
noticed the mangled carcass lying on the ground at their feet. He
recognized the face of the corpse, his own face. Panic hit him. He
could barely prevent himself from falling over. Continued shouts only
served to further Ivan's frustrations. His friends just could not
hear him. Panic was soon replaced by horror as he began to realize that
he was well and truly dead.
Pacing he tried to figure out just what had happened. He vaguely
remembered being terribly frightened over something, but he could not
think of the cause of his fear. He sat on the cold ground going over
the events of the last few days in his mind. This led him nowhere.
He could not think of anything that he had done that was out of the
ordinary or that could have led to his eventual demise.
His contemplations consumed him for what seemed like hours and when
he finally lifted himself from his thoughts he realized that he was no
longer in the same place that he was before. when he first became
aware of his state of non-being he had been in a rather enclosed wood, but
now he found himself in a room beyond all imagining. The dimensions of
the room had him completely confounded. He found himself in one corner
of the room, the wall opposite him seemed about half a mile distant,
and when he looked to his left the other side of the room in that
direction was so far off that he could not see it. The structure seemed
to be made of solid marble. Both the wall behind him and the one
opposite contained several archways each about fifty meters apart. Each
archway for as far as he could see held a gate. No two gates were made
of the same type of metal. He walked to the gate closest to him and
found it was locked. It was made of some sort of red metal the likes
of which he had never seen before. He turned around and noticed a large
fountain halfway between himself and the opposite gateway. The fountain
was circular and water poured from the mouth of a huge leaping lion. As
if the sight of water triggered something his mind had been ignoring he
immediately became very thirsty. The water from the fountain was the
most refreshing he had ever consumed and he was compelled to keep
drinking even after he felt his stomach was about to burst from the
strain.
Ivan's drinking was abruptly interrupted when he noticed a dark
mass on the horizon. He still felt very strange every time he realized
that he was seeing a horizon while inside a building, if the word building
could be used to describe this place. The mass was rapidly growing larger
as if miles between them were being closed every second, and a deadly chill
began to creep beneath his skin. When the approaching entity was about
half a mile away it began to take on the form of a rider on a horse.
When the rider was about forty meters away it could be seen with much
greater detail. The black clad skeletal figure charged to meet Ivan.
It rode a pale horse. The eyes of the demonic steed and those of its rider
were red like the furnaces of hell. Ivan was never quite sure whether
it was because of something in the water or because of the sheer terror
that engulfed him, but upon seeing the face of death incarnate Ivan's legs
buckled beneath him and all became black.
Upon awakening Ivan was aware of a sensation that had previously
been absent, pain. Every inch of his body hurt. He felt as though
his skin was being slowly peeled from his body inch by inch. He had
never before felt such immense agony. This continued for what seemed
like hours until his whole body felt picked clean. Slowly the burning
pain began to subside and Ivan became aware of a few things that,
in his torment, he had overlooked. First, he was no longer in the gate
room. He now found himself surrounded by white. The only way this new
place could be described would be to say that it did not seem to be
any place at all. Second, he was naked. Third, unscathed. Fourth,
Death stood five feet in front of him.
Death spoke. His voice a deep whisper.
"I am Thanato. You North Americans commonly refer to me as Death
or the Grim Reaper. I hate those names, if you use them there may be
extreme repercussions. You are dead, and this is not a dream. The
pain you have just experienced was the agony of your death. At the
moment of death there is a transference of pain from your body to your
soul. Although the pain your living body felt when you died was quickly
over, the effect a person's death has on their soul is more substantial.
Until moments ago We had held back this pain."
"Why...?"
"We suppressed your pain so that it would be easier for you to focus
on the fact of your own demise." Thanatos said everything in an
infuriatingly matter of fact tone. "The reason you must feel it now is
so that there will be no question in your mind about the true state of
things. You are dead."
Ivan's initial fear of this entity was immediately replaced with
disappoinment. This was too much to take. His existence had just been
turned upside down, he was dead, and here was Death relating all this
information as if he were telling Ivan that it was cold outside.
Ivan decided that he did not like Death.
"How did I die?" Ivan asked "I don't seem to remember very much about
those last few minutes."
"How you died is unimportant." Thanatos replied.
"WHAT!"
Ivan was at his breaking point. He was still dizzy from his death
agony, he was stuck here in purgatory, or wherever the hell he was, with
only a boring windbad for company, and now the windbag won't even have
the common decency to tell him how he died.
Thanatos was droning on about Ivan's responsibilties in the
afterlife and Ivan felt his burning temper raging within. He wasn't
about to sit back and let himself be swept up in the bureaucracy of
this strange afterlife. He needed something to hit. In the back of
his mind he could still hear Death's irritating voice. He focused his
rage on this distraction.
Ivan threw himself at Death. Ivan had never been a small man and
Death quickly crumpled under the hammering fists. unthinking and
unable to stop himself, Ivan raised his foot and brought it down, crushing
Death's windpipe. Still angry, Ivan kicked Death in the head until
both his anger and Death's squirming had subsided. Death was dead.
Ivan looked at the crumpled form of Thanatos and before his eyes
the body disappeared. Ivan blinked. Death's cloak appeared, suspended
in mid air before him.
A voice exploded inside Ivan's head, "PUT ON THE CLOAK!" the voice
boomed.
So this is how it's going to be, eh? I become Death? This might
not be so bad. I bet Thanatos gets all kinds of perks here. These
thoughts and more ran through Ivan's mind as he obediently slipped on
the cloak.
His smugness soon turned to alarm though. The cloak began to
smother him. He tried to break free, but the more he fought the tighter
he garment gripped him. He opened his mouth to yell but it filled with
the black fabric and no sound was emitted. Soon every inch of him was covered.
Every inch except for his eyes.
Darkness began to frame his vision. He consciousness was fading fast.
Then, Thanatos appeared. He was whole and unharmed. Ivan never thought
that a skull could truly smile, but Thanatos' skeletal face was cracked
with an evil menacing grin.
"You cannot kill death." Thanatos laughed.
Again the voice inside his head spoke. "Ivan Vladimir Ulyich, your
afterlife privileges are hereby revoked."
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