I felt their eyes staring down on me. Their whispers were clear
with the silence that I felt. My eyes are closed but I can still see them
holding each other. Tears fall. I expected this. If it did not occur I would
have felt a different feeling one that did not leave me content. I still feel
fear. My toes were not moving neither my fingers. I scream but nothing is
escaping me. Not a whisper nor a sigh. I didn’t think it would be this way. How
can I still feel these feelings and think these thoughts?
Soon they left and others came.
Others dressed in white lift me into the air and set me back down. A white veil
of fabric is placed over my face. Are they afraid of me? I hear many voices
now. Discussions of how their day was and what they were planning on doing
later that evening. I felt a surge deep inside me trying to cry out or say
something to get them to pay attention to me. After all I am the one that is
dead.
Soon I feel myself moving right,
left, and finally straight. I want to explain that I am feeling dizzy with all
this motion. Just let me be! I didn’t expect this. Bumping carelessly into
walls. Stopping for a quick chat. Damn you who won’t let me be already! Then it
is quiet. And dark. So very very dark. The fear comes. Where am I? A part of me
knows but doesn’t want to believe it. I am too young! I remember what I was
doing before. The simple irreplaceable moments of before ripple through my
mind. My insides hurt at that memory so I quickly push it away. I hear
footsteps.
More floating and then a large thud
of bone on stainless steel. That is my bone! So sloppy you are. I didn’t
realize that you could be this way. Finally the veil is lifted and I am exposed.
Why are you staring at me this way? Are you reading my soul or are you reading
a book I cannot tell. Fine mark your sheet and hum your songs. One day you will
realize it. Your feeling is gone.
What is that for? Do you really
need that shiny pizza cutter for me? I can tell you everything just please
don’t make me listen! Unfortunately you are not concerned with this either. A
high pitch screech awakens from your pizza cutter. Oh how dreadfully loud that
is! Would you mind covering my ears at least? A slight feeling of pressure
occurs. Thank whoever it is that doesn’t allow me to physically experience
that! Are you happy now? If you couldn’t see my soul before you must be able to
see it now. Still you are blind with all your experience.
“Subject appears to have died from
fatal stab to the lung” the voice speaks to his small black contraption. I
could have told you that! Didn’t the large hole in me state the obvious? Stupid
man just put me together again. You have
your answer now just let me be!
He scribbles on a small thick piece
of paper. Name of deceased: John Smith. Age: 34. Sex: Male. Race: White. Weight:
175 lbs. Length: 5’9. Place of death: Yakima, Washington. Date of death:
Tuesday September 9th. Cause of death: Stab wound that punctured left lung. Attaching
a small cord through the single hole of the card he creates a noose and places
it loosely upon my large right toe. I expected this. He puts the white veil
over my face once again and turns off the light.
I have seen the light again and
want this veil off my face! I lay there motionlessly in a fit over the thing
that covers my face. It is too dark and I need them to know! For hours I lay
there feeling the urge but unable to act upon it. A clock on a wall slowly
ticks away the seconds, the minutes, and the hours. I feel something
approaching. It is the hour of freedom! The clock strikes its final toll and I
lift my arm. It is stiff from the day’s inactiveness but I am able to bend it
at the elbow. I grasp the white veil and fling it from my face. With a creak
that echoes off the room’s walls my eyes open. I sit up pleased with my
achievement but I still have more to do. I remove the blanket that has covered
my body since my last movement and twist my body with as much force as I can
without cracking something. Forcing my knees to bend I am able to let me feet
hang over the steel frame. I stand. Taking each step as if I were a newborn, I
stumble to the door and open it. They need to remember.
