So I found an old document from 2006 for a serial I started working on, but never finished. It was a comic at one point1 and then I tried to go back in time and write the whole thing. Eventually, I abandoned the project, though I have thought about picking it back up from time to time. It’s interesting going through the original files and seeing what I was trying to do back then.2
Shattered glass and flying mortar were the last things he remembered seeing, the last things he felt embedded into his flesh and drawing out his blood at a rapid rate. Now he was simply awaiting death.
What death was waiting for, he had no idea. There was a point where he thought he had died, feeling a cold hand rip his soul from his body and hurl him into a small pinpoint of light that grew until it engulfed him in the warmth of the afterlife, but that image had faded away a few moments after. There was just nothing, and he started to feel like he wasn’t quite dead anymore. Not quite alive, but certainly not quite dead.
It felt like quite a long time now. Dying, it seemed, was not as quick a process as he had hoped and he was waiting for something, anything really, that would give him a reason for still sitting in limbo waiting for the great beyond. Unless he was a ghost now, ready to meander the earth but not ready to get up quite yet. He might even buy that if he could actually feel any of his limbs, but all he felt now was detached.
Perhaps he was lacking in the self reflection and coming to terms with his own death, before moving on? Would that make the gods happy? Fine.
He had stolen a car. It was a stupid move now that he thought about it, but he had already done it. It had been a nice one too, but there was hardly any reason to regret that now. He had done it, gotten in, and very easily managed to hot wire the thing.
He remembered that the engine roared at his touch, a thing he was very proud of at the time before he had closed the door. And then he had done the stupidest thing in his entire life. He shifted it into gear and stepped on the gas.
It was about that time that he had realized that, while he had seen people drive before, he did not know how to drive himself. Even then, however, completely out of control, he had been laughing and enjoying himself, confident that he could pick it up along the way.
And then he had crashed. He had managed to get very far along the way, well out of town and crashed into the side of the building. The wall gave out under him, though he saw nothing but the shattering glass and falling mortar which should have by all means managed to kill him by now. Especially now that he had come to terms with the fact that he was fully aware that he had died in a stupid manner and he was very ready to face judgment or reincarnation or whatever it was that death had in store.
Still not dead. What else did he have left to do? He’d already done every damn thing that he could come up with and that had done a grand total of nothing. This was going to be agonizing. That, or this right here was death. He was quickly discovering a deep hatred for death.
He was also discovering that his face was becoming warm. More startling, he was discovering that he could feel his face at all, as well as a slight feeling that there was light in his eyes. Death, it seemed, was getting sloppy because he was definitely not dead now. Not even heading towards it.
Opening his eyes, he winced and let out a soft groan against the light, shying away from it as he brought an arm up to shield himself from the glaring sun streaming in over his face. Maybe he was just regaining sensation after being in the light for so long. Perhaps when the light had engulfed him, he had just gone blind for this agonizingly long time and now his sight was returning along with the feeling of whatever body he had for his afterlife.
The sound of the small, startled scream, he was pretty certain that he was alive, though.