Puzzle pieces found.

I caught up to the old man.

“Hey, old man!”

He spun around, suprise written on his face.

“Need help, sir?”

“Yes, please. I have so many questions. I’m dead, aren’t I?”

He grimaced.

“Oh, you’re one of those types. You didn’t know you’re dead, eh? Well, sorry to say this, but yeah, you’re dead.”

Seeing my bewildered face, he let out a huge sigh.

“Ok, I see where this is going. You have no idea what is going on right? Guess I’ll have to fill you in then. Get ready and make yourself comfortable, ’cause this is goin’ to be a long story to get through with.”

He settled himself on top of a stack of useless boxes, and continued to explain as I listened attentively. Apparently, death was only the beginning. I was startled. I didn’t want anymore of this confusion; couldn’t I get over it and just get to heaven?

When a person dies, his soul is given a new task for afterlife. Every soul is assigned by fate (in other words, random selection) to its own settler. The goal is to find this settler and fufil all your unfufilled wishes, before God decides where you should go, heaven or hell. So this is a chance given by God to souls who feel they still haven’t done enough on earth, and would like another shot at it. Everything I saw the moment I died is a hint or a sign telling me where to find my settler who would help me get to heaven (or hell).

The last comment left me wondering in my thoughts. I told him what I saw, and what happened, hoping for some help.

“sorry sir, that’s all I can do to help, which is to explain to you what you should, or could do from now on. It is up to you to find your settler, I can’t help with that. For me, my responsibility is only to explain, and I’ve done what I’ve been assigned. Now get along. I got stuff to do as well.”

Matter-of-factly, the old man left me looking puzzled. He seemed used to these types of situations, leaving me an impression that this happens alot. Of course, there’s no doubt that there will be others like me, dead and not knowing what to do about it. After hearing the old man’s explaination, it felt as if all the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I went back in my memories to what had happened before. 27. The number 27 must have something to do with this settler person, if not it wouldn’t have left such a strong impression on my mind. THe ticking of the clock, the soft voice drawing me towards her. All these, must mean something. I went through my memories again.

This time, it hit me like a yellow mini school bus.  27th street. Barlton Elementry school. The only place with a huge ticking clock at the center of the building. That’s where I  have to start searching; that’s where I’ll have to go.

I’m dead.

I was literally about to gag my heart out of my mouth. The fear, confusion, anxiety, dread, paranoia and all the scary emotions clawed its way through my body, making me shake uncontrollably. Spirit. He refered to me as a spirit. A quick scan through my invisible dictionary told me that spirit refers to ghost, or the dead. The dead. I’m dead? I’m dead?

The moment the words I’m dead flashed across my mind, it all started pouring back in. How I died, what was I before. All the unanswered questions became clear to me as to who I was and what I am.

Jacob, age 24. After graduating from a local university, found a job at a small designing firm. Has an optimistic character; sociable and friendly, and tries to be humorous at times. Is the single child of a large external family, favourite colour is blue. Was born in a cab on the way to hosital in November 18, 1984. Died on a quiet Wednesday afternoon, October 15, 2008. Had a quiet funeral with friends and relatives, and was cremated the day after. Tombstone currently resides in a small corner of the local cemetry.

The flood of memories shocked me. They flowed in agressively and violently, bringing all that was me in the past back to me. Then reality slapped me in the face. I’m dead. Am I really…? I still couldn’t believe that my existence on earth, my existence to everyone who knew me, my purpose and my everything, was utterly destroyed by a crazy driver who didn’t know what speed limits meant, or had no clue to what a brake was. As it slowly sank in, I realised that there was a bigger problem in front of me right now. I was dead, yes, but what am I going to do from now onwards? What do souls do? Roam around and scare the wits out of random strangers? I didn’t want to die, no doubt about that. But thanks to my hopelessly optimistic character, I think I’ll be able to pull through despite how dead I am.

I gathered my thoughts. My forehead creased in concentration. What happened just now was not a dream. I definitely heard a voice calling my name, I definitely heard the clock ticking. Was I going crazy or hallucinating from shock? Could a spirit even hallucinate? I began to doubt my non-human abilities. What could I do as a ghost? Walk through walls? Convenient as that can be, what good could it do? My pathetic situation was funny; it made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I finally decide on the one thing that I could possibly do, which is catch up to the old man, and hope that he could be the one who could answer my questions.

Jacob

Jacob…Jacob…

A soft soothing voice echoed in my head. Was that my name? Was that who I was?

Jacob…Jacob…

The swirling mist of the station blinded me, as I groped my way towards the voice that was calling me. The thick fog enclosed me, as if a lion devouring its prey. I could not see much, just blurred silouettes of what I supposed to be the train station. The fear of not knowing what was before me, and the strong desire to reach that voice was warring inside my mind. My wet clammy hands hesitated as I could not feel anything infront of me. As I grabbed blindly at the air around me, struggling for support, my feet dragged relentlessly across the station floor. 

And the worst happened. My feet, not knowing where to go, suddenly landed on something that I dreaded the most – air. I feel head first into the bottomless pit, the fog disappeared, and all I could see was the never-ending blackness below. The shocked and the wind stinged my eyes, and as my tears flew upward, I thought,”When is this going to end?”

I jolted awake and coughed uncontrollably. I felt something sour welling up at my throat. I spat at the hard cemented floor. I looked around me. And I found the same old man staring at me.

“Are you alright sir? You’re gettin’ all weird over there, frigged me out.”

Was that all a dream? That beautiful voice, I could reach it in the end. Who was the person that soothes me so?

“Eh, you ok? You were all over teh’ floor, ya know, screamin’ and all. I thought ya were goin’ crazy or sumthin’. Andden’ you jus’ feel down, and blacked out. It was scary, figgin’ scary.”

For once, I finally noticed the old man.

“Yea, I’m ok now. Thanks.”

The old man stared hard at me, his face scrambling up in confusion.

“I’m fine. By the way do you know how to get out of this station?”

“Yeh, go straight and take a left turn. There’ll be a flight of stairs leading you out.”

“Thank you.”

 I forced a smile and turned my back on the old man, making my way towards the exit. I still could not gather my thoughts as my vision was blurred between reality and dreamland. Which was real which was not? I had no idea. Maybe going into the station was a bad idea. Maybe I should get out. I really thought so. Then I heard the old man mumble something that sank my heart in fear; confusion and doubt all mixed into one clammy huge emotion of paranoia that sent me into a panic attack.

“I’ve met many of his kind, but he’s the weirdest I’ve ever seen. Its time to get someone down here to clear up this mess, I’ve had enough of dealing with spirits already.”

Ayuda Station.

The musty, damp air of the underground station swirled around me. It was humid, stuffy and hot. But the sound of shuffling feet and the train operator’s soothing voice comforted me. Wait a minute. Shuffling feet? Where did all these people come from? A minute ago I was standing in the cold, empty street. Suprising as it was, I was glad to see people. Even if these people were all wearing the same dreary faces as the attendant in the convenience store; even if these people where staring at me with their sunken eyes; even if they were not making a single sound.

I made my way towards the map of the subway line, hoping I could get myself to somewhere where I can find someone who knows me. Blue line, green line, purple line, yellow line. The brightly coloured lines of the map zigged zagged back and forth my eyes, blurring my vision. Which one should I take?  There it is. A familiar dot. Ayuda Station. Ayuda Station. Ayuda Station…

“Going to somewhere, sir?”

The voice jolted me out of my train of thought. Damn. A memory almost in my grasp that flew away from me again. I turned at looked at the man standing behind me. The same dreary face; the same sunken eyes. A well dressed man in his late fourties, he forced a toothless smile.

“Yes, I’m trying to get to Ayuda Station. Any idea where to get tickets?”

“Oh, sir, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. This subway has been closed down for a long long time. Trespassing is strictly not allowed. However, I believe you look lost. Maybe I could show you the way out?”

Closed. Wait a minute. Closed?

“Closed? How can it be closed? All these people here; and I was hearing the train operator’s voice over the loud speaker over there…”

The people. They’re gone. Suddenly, it was as if the air was sucked out of my lungs. Blood was coursing through me; everything in front of my eyes was a blurry mess. I need help. I clunched my chest and desperately struggled to squeeze some air into my lungs. I need help. Someone had grabbed hold of me and pulled my lungs, my heart and my intestines poured out unto the floor.I need help. Red was everywhere. My arms flapped around wildly, despairingly grabbing hold of anything that I could grab hold of. I need help. I couldn’t breathe. Is this one of my panic attacks? Am I going to die? Someone. Please. Help. Me. Please.

And then I remembered. Ayuda means help in spanish.

And then it was blackness.

Tick. Tock.

Am I breathing? I feel light. This empty street where I am standing; where is this? The deafening silence pierced my eardrums, making it almost unbearable. As my feet touched the cold cemented pavement, I felt a chill coming up my spine to the tip of my head. Thats’s funny. I’m not wearing any shoes. When did I take them off? Oh wait. What is this? What is my name? Who am I? What am I doing here? Suddenly, everything was a blank. My mind, my thoughts, could not catch up with the questions; these questions that were burning my mind away. Everything around me became a blur. Questions after questions bombarded my already unsound mind, and I could not answer a single one of them. What is happening to me? Who was I before? I needed to find out. I needed these answers. Or I can never sleep.

Before I even realised it, I walked into the nearest 7-eleven. It makes sense right? What I need is a good meal to set my mind right. That’s it. All I need is to fufil my basic needs, then maybe one day it’ll come back to me. There’s no one in the store except for me and the attendant. I go to the freezer and got a bottle of milk. Expiry date says the 27th of July 2008. What date is it today?

I walked towards the microwaved food section. Chicken Bolognese Spagetti. Nice. Expiry date – 27th July 2008. What date is it today again?

I grab the packet of spagetti, stuffed it into the microwave oven conveniently placed beside the frozen foods section. How long is it going to take for it to be ready for consumption. The ticking of the clock makes me slightly impatient. Tick, Tick, Tick. There it goes again. What time is it anyway? My eyes scanned the store for the clock, searching for the time. Not there. Growing panicky, my eyes zigged zagged the shelves and the counter, looking for the slightest hint of something that ticks. Is that the clock? No, that’s just a soup cover. That one? No. No. No. I ran over to the attendant.

“Where is the bloody clock?”

The attandant shakes his head.

“WHERE IS THE BLOODY FUCKING CLOCK?”

No answer. His dreary eyes stared at me, and he shakes his head.

“WHAT, ARE YOU MUTE? ANSWER ME PLEASE AND TELL ME WHERE DOES THAT TICKING SOUND COME FROM?”

He continues to stare. What is it with these people? Rage soared through me, jumbling my mind up into a mushy mess. I slammed the counter and walked out of the door, never looking back. Colours fizzed in front of my eyes, and the veins at the side of my throat throbbed like there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get out. I need some fresh air. This street, its too silent. All i can hear my breathing slamming against my ears. I walked faster and faster. Yes. A subway station. Time to get out of this bloody suffocating street.

Epilogue

My life is a vile utter mess. Rumaging through those dusty items at mom’s place made all that happened before weigh down heavily on my heart. How many years was it since I had left her alone? Not long. Maybe 5 years? She’s doing well now without me, selling the house and all. Selling the only thing that dad ever left her. Or rather this worthless piece of junkyard that I used to call home. That’s what she said.

Ah, I remember that. The toy that I used to play when Dad was around. We used to play it together every now and then. His big hands would always throw it, and I would run to pick it up. That was a long time ago when I had fun. Now life’s getting to me. As it had gotten to my parents when they were my age. Working, getting stressed over minute things, finding love and losing love. Life has its weird mysterious ways of getting to people. For me, it has always been the worse side of it. The only happiest part of my life was with the person I love, but that ended in a mess as well. Looking through my childhood memories that came in the forms of dusty objects, I wondered what I’ve been doing my whole life. Being messy and disorganised, and because of that my life has been a topsy turvy ride with me spending half of the time searching and trying to organise my life back in motion. At that moment, I felt like my whole life has been flashed before me. A black and white silent movie, with no credits at the end.

There was nothing here that I wanted to bring home with me. Nothing but memories of me and my Dad, which would only bring sadness. Why did she even asked me to come in the first place? To remind me of what she did to me before? All these stupid memories; not worth my time. What was a calm and peaceful me when I entered the house became a hateful and extremely irritatable me when I left the house. Memories, not the good ones, were flickering back and forth before my eyes, like sudden bouts of flashing lightning. I needed to get out of here; I needed to get these thoughts away from me. These vile memories that were not even worth mentioning about. I hate that woman. That woman made me come here so that she could laugh at what I’ve become. That woman I used to call mother. Not anymore. No more of this bullshit. Just burn the house; sell it to someone else, I don’t care. Just leave me alone. Just.

Oh shit. Did something happen?

Say, HI!

Welcome to my fictional world. This blog is basically gonna be on a story which I will be writing for a long time, so if you’re interested, do take a few moments to read it. I’ll try to update as often as I can, or when inspiration comes. Happy reading! :)

Joy