after (flash fiction)
You’re not supposed to relate to this.
Unfortunately, you remember every sickening detail, after. It’s like a regular memory on steroids.
If Lou Ferrigno or Arnold Schwarzenegger were memories, the memory of your death would be Ronnie Coleman—every possible muscle, vein, and artery bulging with grotesque definition, dried out like beef jerky and flexing to the very last striation.
Light weight, baby.
They bring you into reception when you wake up. How much time passes between your death and then is unclear, but you’re cleaned up and handed refreshments like you’ve been asked to wait at the car dealership. I was lucky and had the room to myself before they called me back.
“Mr. Richardson, please take a seat. I expect you have questions, not the least of which concern what happens next. You may have guessed, some of what we discuss will determine the outcome of your queries, and I ask that you hold until we are finished. I’ll gladly clear up your remaining uncertainties at that time.”
I nodded. What else could I have done? Raged? Probably. But something told me I’d be better served on my best behavior—keep my cards close and see how it played out.
The old man across the desk fixed his glasses back into place, then he clicked and typed for a few seconds before looking up at me again.
“Now, Derek. Can you recite your full name and cause of death?”
I was surprised by the informality. Who asks about something so personal, so immediately?
I stammered, “Uh, sure. Um. Derek Louis Richardson. Car accident. Well, technically asphyxiation. The seatbelt wrapped around my neck, crushed my esophagus, and as the car hung in the tree I—I couldn’t get free. Somehow I remember the car falling down the hillside, but I was dead at that point, no longer gurgling for air.” Like I said, sickening detail.
“Perfect. Just had to confirm we’ve got the right Derek.” He chuckled. “Now for my favorite part. This will take a while, but I assure you, I’ll enjoy it. You may too.”
I looked at him suspiciously. What was he talking about?
“Lies, Derek. We get to dissect each and every lie you’ve ever told. But that’s not all. For each one, we bring in those affected. Ready?”
“Fuck.”
