I stare at the glowing screen in front of me. The blank page mocks me with its presence. What do I even write? Words escape me and I feel empty. The clock reads 2:54am. A country song in the background plays while I sit with a dazed look. I am drained of creative ideas; my boss threatened to fire me if I don’t submit an article by Tuesday. Tomorrow is Tuesday.
The clock ticks. An hour goes by. The page remains blank. I am frustrated with my empty brain so I pop a pill into my mouth; at least I think it was one. Actually, I am not sure of the amount I have taken, but at this point it doesn’t matter because all I want is the peacefulness of a quiet brain, a brain intoxicated with sleep. The dark is soothing and comforting; soon I am transported into a silent world. The sound of absolutely nothing is a drug like no other.
All of a sudden, I hear knocking! Damn it, the peacefulness has disappeared! I grudgingly pull myself out of bed, making my way to the bathroom. The bathtub is stained with dirt and hair clogs the sink. I sure need to clean. I look in the mirror and the appearance of my face jolts me awake. I look like a zombie. The bags under my eyes have tripled in size since yesterday and my long, brown hair is quite messy. The knocking persists. I unlock the door, despite my appearance and am surprised to see my mother.
“Hello darling,” she says, “It’s two in the afternoon, did you just wake up?”
“Yes mother,” I reply. Who the f*** does she think she is? She’s even wearing tight red skirt with a white, spaghetti strap shirt and black pumps and her blonde her is pulled into a sloppy pony tail. Can she look any more like a slut?
“I brought over some lasagna,” she says, “I know how you hate to cook.” The smell hits my nostrils and I feel nauseous.
“Thanks,” I fake a smile. Mother always does this, stops by unannounced, pretending to care. She only stops by when she wants something. Not wanting her to be at my place any longer, I thank her and escort her to the door. “You’re not getting away that easy,” she says and stops right in front of the door, “I’m staying sweetheart.” Having no choice, I fill two glasses with some iced tea and we talk at the kitchen table. My mother proceeds to go into explicit detail on a current boyfriend, Charles. She changes her boyfriends like her underwear. She brags about how big his pecker is and how great he makes her feel in bed. She laughs when she starts talking about how he farts in his sleep. I nod, hoping my silence will make her leave. I don’t want to hear this!
I stare at the clock on the oven while she rambles. My mother then notices the mess. “Oh my!” she shouts, “The sink is full of dishes and clothes are everywhere!” It took her forty three minutes to stop being self-absorbed and finally notice me, well my apartment.
“Let’s clean Marge!” she suggests, “You cannot possibly bring over guests when it is this disgusting!”
“It’s fine,” I say, “I don’t care, you can leave if you want.” My mother slumps down in the cheap, plastic Ikea chair and stares at the floor for a moment. “Marge…” she says.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Remember when I was talking about Charles,” she looks like she’s about to cry.
“Mhm,” I mutter.
“Well he needs four hundred dollars for his friend,” she takes her glance off of the floor and looks toward me. She reminds me of a puppy who’s desperate for a treat.
“Mother!” I shout, “I can barely afford the rent for this place and I’m probably going to be laid off!” I couldn’t believe the b****! She’s coming over to MY place and demanding money for some man I never met? She’s crazy!
“Just go!” I scream, “You always come when you want something and you’re just a f***en piece of s*** cunt!”
“You’re going to talk to me like that?” she acts appalled, “Your own mother?!” She makes a dramatic stand and walks towards the door and looks back to me when she is in the hallway, “So you don’t have four hundred dollars?”
“Bloody hell no!” I shout and slam the door. That woman! I bang my fist at the door and keep slamming it until it’s my hand is stained with blood. I begin to cry and sit down, leaning against the door. I scan my apartment and notice the telephone; it reads that I have a new message. The deadline! S***.
Sobbing, I clutch my hand and crawl on my fours to the telephone. I’m sad enough; I figure it can’t be any worse. I know my job is done. I press the “hear message” button.
“Hi, this is Frank calling. Marge…honey, you didn’t show up today. The deadline is today and no article. I told you that it’s over if you don’t show with an article. That’s it, I’m tired of your bullshit and excuses, you’re a grown twenty five year old. Good bye Marge, best of luck in whatever you decide to do next.” Beep. Yup, just what I expected. I cry harder. I crawl toward the couch and notice a nice bottle of whiskey with some pills next to it. I just want the quiet back. I just want peace in my head. The whiskey acts as the river for the white capsules. I stain my yellow t-shirt with whiskey dripple. I can see the darkness, the sweet peaceful darkness.
I awake to a laughter that does not sound human. I am no longer in bed. I am floating in the middle of a blood stained river. I am kept afloat by some sort of force. The laughter grows stronger and before I know it, a man is sitting next to me.
"Hello," he smiles, "How are you?"
I say nothing.
"Shy?" he asks. I gulp. He senses my apprehensiveness. The air feels hot going down my throat and it is hard to swallow.
"My name is Thanatos," he says. I slowly start to submerge under the water. I scream, but my vocal chords seem tangled for no sound emerges. Thanatos looks calm. I don't feel the water around me.
It feels like hours before we reach the bottom and as soon as our feet hit the ground, Thanatos disappears. I hear a raspy voice say, "Follow the trail." I look at the ground and see a black path, it contrasts with white all around it. I have nothing to lose, I follow the trail.
As I walk, the light starts to become minimal and soon, the darkness creeps over me. The trail is no longer visible. I am scared. I stop walking. A bright light emerges from my right side and I shield my eyes. I start to adjust and realize the light is a movie screen. Sound comes out. I am on the screen, this was about me.
I watched myself as a baby, first learning to walk and I heard the first word I ever said, "Truck." It went on through moments of me playing with my toys and me sitting in school. It showed clips of me drinking with my friends as a teenager. I watched myself at my first job interview, and I watched myself crying myself to sleep. The pills on my bedside table were now the main focus on the screen. Then the camera turned its attention toward a frail, young woman sitting on the floor with a shattered laptop. That incident happened three months ago. That was me. That was my life, broken and insignificant.
The screen turns black and an awkward silence fills the room. I don't hear my heartbeat. I realize that I have left no mark on this world.
I felt dead. I was dead.
Then Thanatos appears at my side with a curious look on his face. He looks as if he is waiting for me to respond, but I am not sure what he wants me to say.
"Do you want another chance?" he asks. I find myself entrapped by his soothing voice, I hadn't realized before how soothing it actually was. I found myself lost at words.
He asks again, "Do you want another chance?"
I nod. He leans toward me with such a simple look, and he implants a kiss on my lips. I feel the blood drain out of my body and I feel a chill run through me.
"The afterlife has so much to offer," Thanatos smiles, "You'll like it there." He must've seen my perturbed look because he says, "Death isn't as scary as you think it is, better than your pitiful life on Earth." We descend into the air. This is the end or as Thanatos whispers in my ear, "A new beginning.”