Emptiness. That’s all there is. Cold and dark. The void made real.
A sound echoes through the darkness, like someone humming the tune of a haunting lullaby. It grows louder, lurks closer, until it’s right on top of me. I shut my eyes and freeze in place, even as an unnatural chill crawls up my spine.
“It’s nothing, Liz,” I tell myself, unsure if I believe my own words. “Don’t listen. This isn’t it. Just…drift off.” But nothing changes. I open my eyes, and I’m still here.
And there it is.
Hovering a few feet away is a ghastly figure, like a living shadow. A perpetual mist emanates from its ever-flowing, cloaked form. Beneath its hood is a simple white mask made of bone, featureless, save for the two eye slits. My god, those eyes—glowing, piercing, purple daggers stabbing at my soul.
The figure tilts its head, staring at me. The humming fades.
“Shall we begin?” That voice. Soft, eerie, poised, almost motherly.
I say nothing—I couldn’t speak even if I had words to say.
The figure extends an arm. From beneath her cloak, she reaches out with a boney hand, the appendage covered by a paper-thin layer of pale skin. She floats toward me. I instinctively take a step back. She comes closer. I retreat further. She draws nearer still.
I turn and burst into a sprint in the opposite direction. I run and don’t look back. That’s the rule of horror, after all. Never look back. I run for…I don’t know how long. How long is long enough when you can’t tell how far you’ve gone?
Eventually, I ease into a full stop, taking a moment to catch my breath. For whatever reason, I decide to turn around, completely breaking the rule. I figure it’s okay to look back now that I’m not running anymore. After all, I need some kind of confirmation. Looking around in every direction, I’m glad to find the figure is gone.
“Yeah. Fuck you, too,” I mutter.
One moment, there’s nothing.
The next, everything around me gets bright and hot.
Towering flames standing several stories tall surround me on all sides. The whirling blaze rages in a flurry of violent amber hues, roaring like some demonic beast. The intense heat is overpowering. I’m petrified.
This place was scary even before this inferno started. Now, it’s like my own personal hell. Ever since I fell into a fire pit when I was 12, fire and I have had an uneasy relationship. The burn scars all over my gut tell the story well enough. But even now, a whole decade later, I’m still terrified of anything brighter than a lighter or candle.
I keep spinning around, searching for an exit. There isn’t one. There’s no way out of this.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
I collapse to the ground and curl up into a ball, holding my head in my arms and clamping my eyes shut. “Wake up, Liz! Come on, wake the fuck up!”
Then, it’s quiet. Everything fades away.
As I open my eyes, the blaze is gone. Instead, I’m met with a somewhat wondrous sight, as I rest atop…the Empire State Building? That’s what it seems like, at least. The sudden change of scenery and the sensation of being so high up are disorienting—it feels so real—but the captivating view helps me recuperate. I can see all of Manhattan from up here, and even further beyond. The depressing blackness is gone. It’s a beautiful day, the sun shining high in the sky.
I rise to my feet as a soft breeze picks up. I can’t help but lean into it. I expected the wind to be stronger, being so high up, but it’s actually very pleasant, soothing even. Letting my short hair blow freely in the wind is almost…fun. Is that a smile I feel creeping onto my face? I rest against the guard rail, shut my eyes, and take a deep breath of the crisp, cool air.
Is this it, then? Is this actually the end? Something still doesn’t feel right.
Unfortunately, as my gaze pans right, I’m greeted with the unnerving sight of the cloaked figure again. I jolt in place, nearly falling back down to the floor. I hold myself up on the guard rail and train my gaze on her, but she doesn’t stare back. She just silently looks out at the city.
“What the fuck are you?” I mumble.
She doesn’t reply.
I regain my bearings again and take two steps back. “What do you want?”
She lets out a faint giggle.
I shake my head and look back out at the city, doing my best to ignore her. “Fine. Don’t talk. Be creepy. See if I care.” I very much do care. I still feel myself shaking as I grip the guard rail in an effort to steady myself. I suspect my tough façade isn’t very convincing, but it’s got to be better than nothing at this point.
No, this isn’t it. This can’t be it. And yet, I wonder…
“Am I dead?” I ask softly. “Is this it?”
The cloaked mistress giggles again, then bursts into full laughter. It’s not an evil cackle, more so a laugh of sincere amusement, the kind of laughter you have after hearing a friend tell a really fucked up joke. The disturbing part is how the sound echoes all around us.
Eventually, I dare to turn and look at her again. And now, she looks back. I try to avoid direct eye contact, but for some reason, I can’t help myself. Her eyes are unsettling, but at the same time, there’s something enticing about them. The purple glow is fainter than before; it’s almost pleasant now. I feel myself about to take an involuntary step toward her, but I shake my head and stop myself from moving, looking back out to the city instead.
I’m starting to get an idea of who this is beside me, but I really don’t want to be right. I feel her gaze finally leave me as I lean against the guard rail again and rest my chin on my arms. We stand there in silence.
Despite the fairly peaceful atmosphere, it’s getting difficult to distract myself from the overarching dread that I may have eternally screwed myself over.
“It’s funny, actually,” I randomly say with a chuckle. “I’ve always wanted to come up here. It’s like a small dream of mine, I guess. The idea of being so high up, surrounded by the open air, it always sounded cool to me. Even if this is some weird dream or whatever, the view is just as awesome as I imagined it would be.”
I slowly turn my gaze over to the figure. “Is that why you brought me here? Fulfilling one last wish or something before I shuffle off this mortal coil?”
She doesn’t reply.
I shrug and look away.
“I never really told anyone that,” I say, unsure why I continue talking, but doing so, nonetheless. “Maybe it slipped out in a passing conversation, but nothing that would really clue someone in. I guess that’s my fault. I just never imagined anyone would take the idea seriously.
“That, and the fact that I’ve got parents who practically argue for a living. I feel like Mom and Dad bicker at least once a day just because they feel like they have to. And even when they do get along, when they are happy, they’re still so caught up in their own lives that they never have time to be a part of mine.
“That’s why I never tell them things. That’s why I haven’t told them about how I’ve been feeling. They wouldn’t get it. They’d just treat me like a burden—or more of a burden than I already feel like. God, I hate thinking about them like this, but it feels like the only way I can think about them these days. Fuck… What does that say about me?”
I wait for a response. Of course, I don’t get one.
Shaking my head, I continue. “My friends aren’t much better with these sorts of things. They’re probably the best friends I could ask for. But for as much as I love them, I always feel alone when I’m with them. I always feel alone, period. It feels like they don’t understand me, like no one understands me. Maybe that’s my fault too.
“Rodney’s the only one who at least tries. He’s always been there for me. We’ve always been pretty much inseparable. But for as much as he tries to be there for me, he’s just as often stuck in his own world. Or maybe its worlds. The guy writes so much that I sometimes can’t tell.
“Then there’s Kat. Fierce friend, stable to the core, but I think that stability often blinds her to some of the softer aspects of life, so I’ve never really seen her as an emotional confidant. And Trish and Vinney are two of the most fun people to be around. In some ways, I think they kind of ground our little group. But they can be pretty scatterbrained when they want to be, so they’re not exactly my go-to for heartfelt support either.
“So, when all is said and done, who the hell would really care about my dumb little dreams anyway?”
Again, no response comes. I might as well be rambling to myself.
“I guess on the bright side, I’m here now. That counts for something, right? Even if ‘here’ isn’t exactly where I thought I’d end up. That really is just my luck, huh?” I say, chuckling with uncertainty. “I finally pluck up the courage to go through with it, and of course, it’s not at all what I expected. Nothing’s changed. I’m still…alone.”
The figure remains silent, but I feel her gaze on me.
My lip quivers. “I don’t get to go back, do I?” I finally look back at her.
She giggles. “It’s going to be all right, Liz.” Again, her voice is soothing and tender. But that odd comfort I felt from looking into her eyes before is gone. She reaches over the guard rail, slowly raising her open hand. As she looks out to the city, her eyes pulse.
The open, blue sky slowly fades away. It grows darker and darker until it’s completely black. It’s the same darkness as before.
My heart sinks. “What are you doing?” I ask.
She clenches her hand into a fist, and her eyes pulse again, this time even brighter. Now, at the edge of the city, in all directions, I see…
Fire.
I send a harsh glare her way. “C’mon, cut the shit.” But she doesn’t falter. All around us, the flames are rapidly converging on the Empire State Building. My face is drenched, and I can’t tell if it’s from crying or sweating or both. It’s probably both.
“Stop! Please!” I don’t know if I’ve ever heard myself sound this shaky before. “You fucking bitch! Why couldn’t you just let me die?! That’s all I fucking wanted!” My words catch in my throat. “Not this…” I look down and see the fire at the base of the building. My heart skips about seven hundred beats. As the flames race to the top, my eyes land on her one last time. She stares into my soul and holds her hand out to me.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“Take my hand, Liz.” Her voice is a whispering echo, her words sharper than a fine dagger. I completely lock up, and yet, through this entire ordeal, I haven’t felt more relaxed. It’s not like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me—quite the opposite, in fact. It’s like I’ve been given an entirely new breath of life.
The flames rush up and completely envelop the building. There isn’t any heat. Or maybe there is and I’m just not noticing it. I don’t pay the blaze any mind at all. I’m entirely focused on her. Her hand remains held out, awaiting my touch. As if by instinct, I reach for it, but I pull back at the last moment.
“What is this?” I mutter. She says nothing. A few staggered breaths escape me, but with one final deep breath, I take her hand.
I take Death’s hand.
The flames wisp away, along with the façade of the Empire State Building and the city below. All that’s left is the nothingness. I faint—no, I don’t faint, I basically throw myself into Death’s arms. Her touch…it’s cold, but welcoming. It’s the most comforting thing I’ve ever felt. I hold her hand close to my chest, and she cloaks me in her embrace. We rest on the ground, and I naturally curl up in her arms.
I look up at her with what I can only imagine is a very wanting look. Death trails a finger down the side of my face, so soft, so soothingly cold.
“What is this?” I ask again, even softer now.
“Shh. It’s all right, Liz.” Her voice is absolutely enchanting. “I know you wanted to let go. But you’re not ready. It’s time for you to wake up.”
“But… I’m all alone. It all just hurts so bad. I just want it to stop.”
“I know, Liz. I know you are afraid. I know you feel like you are alone. But I assure you that you’re not.”
Death waves her hand in the air, and a lifetime of joyful memories flashes before me. I see my mother and I pranking my father to cheer him up after a rough day. I see the time Dad held me close and got me ice cream after my ex dumped me. I see my friends and I screaming our lungs out at a dozen different rock concerts. I’m reminded of when Kat, Trish, and I made a hilarious mess in my bathroom the first time we attempted to dye my hair. I watch Vinney getting absolutely plastered at a party for the hundredth time, much to everyone else’s amusement. And I see myself and Rodney enjoying a picnic together, not at all romantic, though I now certainly wish it had been.
I look at all of this, these memories that I had buried beneath my grief, and it’s impossible not to smile. I’m reminded of happier times, better days. They remind me that it’s not all so bleak. Life might actually be worth living.
“I know it’s hard,” Death continues. “Life often is. But it wouldn’t be enjoyable if it were free. That’s why finding happiness amidst the hardship makes it that much sweeter.”
“But what if I mess it all up? What if I push everyone away? What if nothing changes?”
She tilts her head and calmly nods. “It is a possibility. I won’t pretend that it’s not. The path you walk, that every living soul walks, is bumpy, fractured, and unpredictable.” She runs the back of her hand across my cheek. “But you don’t know how much you’ll be missing out on if you give up, Liz. It’s easy to give up. So, please, don’t.”
I find the strength to nod in acknowledgement.
I then slowly reach up to her face, pausing as my fingers barely graze her mask. She remains still. Hesitantly, I remove it. What I find beneath is the visage of a pale woman, still slightly hidden behind strands of luscious black hair that drape her face like a veil. Her features are smooth and beautiful, and the glow of her purple eyes is completely captivating. It's like staring into the face of an evil angel.
She gives me a comforting smile. “Now, wake up, Liz. Wake up and live.”
“Wait,” I blurt out. “Is… Is this all a dream? Or is Death herself actually watching me?”
She giggles. “What do you think?”
I feel ready to reply, but no words escape my lips.
“I’ll let you figure it out.” She floats her hand across my face, and I feel myself drift off.
* * *
I gasp for breath as I’m jolted awake. I cough up…something. My pillow is covered in vomit, the stench of it all stinging my nose. The convulsing pain in my gut becomes apparent a moment later as I sit up in bed. My air conditioner drones on in the background, but even with the chill in the room, I’m drenched in sweat. I look over at my clock, resting between a half-empty bottle of vodka and a spilled bottle of pills on my nightstand. It’s 1:34 in the morning.
I’m alive.
I feel myself about to cry out for my parents, but out of the corner of my eye, I see—or at least I think I see—a purple glow in the corner of my room. As I focus my attention on that spot, though, nothing’s there, other than a pile of dirty clothes that are well overdue for a wash.
“Mom! Dad!” I eventually shout, much as it hurts my throat to do so. After a few moments, I hear their rushed footsteps approaching my room. I expect Mom to be absolutely aghast at the sight of me like this, or to hear Dad scolding me, but as soon as they burst through the door, they’re holding me in their arms and showering me with love and comforting words. I start apologizing to them, and they tell me it’s all right, that everything will be all right. Somehow, I believe them.
Mom helps me walk to the bathroom while Dad calls for an ambulance. But as we’re about to exit my room, I notice the purple glow again. And for a split second, I see Death smiling at me. I smile back, knowing I’m in good hands.