Shattered

The pain was finally erased, gone and done. My eyes felt heavy, but as I opened them, I saw I was in the same room, the same blood covered tiles. The energy was renewed in my body as I stood up. All feelings of fear lingered, but I wasn’t hurting anymore.

“Hello?” I asked into nothing. This didn’t feel real. Carefully moving through the pools of blood, I went to the door knob. It hummed with a vibrant energy. Twisting the door open, I stepped out into an empty street. I left the house I was at, but entered a world at night.

Not a single car was lined along the curbs, no alley runners mingling with the pedestrians. Carefully, I stepped out into the street. A green light flashed in the distance, but all was quiet, all was silent. I realized, I was back in Denver.

But this wasn’t the Denver I knew.

“Is anybody here?” I called aloud while passing glances around.

“Well yes, I’m here.” A voice cheered from down the road. I turned quickly to the man who stood in the middle of the road. We were on the outskirts of the city. Fields of sweeping grasses and wildflowers were in the distance. It looked as if there was day there as well.

The man had dark hair that fell around his face like he had just run a marathon, or he had just stomped around. Tattoos painted a variety of stories on his arms and chest. The man wore a pair of black skinny jeans and a light grey tank.

“I must be dead.” I whispered in awe. The man laughed as a pair of black wings fluttered behind him.

“Well, not quite.” Mitch Lucker chuckled. His kind eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the red traffic signal. He crossed his arms and wiped a bit of sweat off his face. I couldn’t form words.

“I hope you know it’s raining over your house. I had to fly over there and when I saw what he did to you, I was pissed.” Mitch shook his head. The pool of blood flickered into my mind like a bad headache.

“So you did the Lucker Stomp?” I asked him with a smile. I always imagined talking to him-but not like this.

“It’s about to start hailing.” Mitch smiled to me and looked down the dark roads forlornly.

“So what do you mean I’m not quite dead?” I asked curiously. There wasn’t a feeling of panic, nor fear. Just curiosity filled me.

“Well, do you remember when you cried out for someone to help you, right when Austin was burning you right through?” Mitch loomed over me with the sense of sadness falling down.

“Yes.” I responded, thinking back to the moment.

“Well there’s always someone to help you. I’m here now!” Mitch spread his arms as a wide grin appeared. Relief washed over me.

“So am I about to die?” I asked nervously. Did I really want to die? Did I want to go back to what I had?

“That’s actually up to you. Come on.” He gestured. I followed him out to the edge of the city where the light met with the darkness.

“That’s where you go if you die. It’s pretty nice out there. Weather is perfect pretty much every day of the year. Only the hail’s bad.” Mitch laughed a little. I could feel the pull of it calling to me.

“Are my parent’s there?” I asked him softly. Mitch wrapped an arm around my shoulder, giving me a side hug. His wings fluttered quietly.

“They are. They’re wonderful people.” He told me.

“But I don’t have to die?” I asked him. Mitch smiled and nodded.

“Once you die, you’re set. You can’t go back and enjoy the feelings of life once again. Everything’s perfect, and I actually kind of miss the pains of life. Sometimes life really sucks, but perfection gets boring after a while. I miss my wife.” Mitch longed as he turned around to face the dark side.

“So which should I choose? Why am I here?” I glanced back to the bright fields.

“You’re here because you’re about to die, but there’s a fight in you that won’t let you go just yet. You can choose whatever you want, but I would hurry. That blood stain is going to soak in and be a pain to get out.” Mitch shook his head. We walked back to the crossing, directly between both sides.

“Kynder! Kynder, please wake up!” A voice sobbed to me. I felt a small ache in my chest as I turned around. A certain ginger stood in the middle of the street, kept back by a barrier.

“Alan!” I called to him, but he didn’t hear me. Out of all of the boys, Alan had been the one who hadn’t beaten me or yelled. Mitch put on hand on my shoulder.

“You might want to hurry.” He reminded me softly. I nodded, making my choice.

The ginger kept calling my name, pleading for me to open my eyes.

As I took my step, I….

Notes