Eight Seconds - A Short Story

If you have eight seconds to live, what would you do?
I am no longer in this world.

I can hear the wind rumble to the clash of the lightning. My heart is next to my ears and I can hear it clearly as the African drums. The world is dark and it is my savior.

I am in my own world.

For years and years, I have been trapped in this horrible reality where I have to wake up, go to school, work, come home, and go to sleep, only to repeat the same routine over and over. No one questions why we have to go to school or get married. We just do it - most of us.

My elderly teacher said something to me one day and it made my heart sink to the pit of my stomach.

"With the blink of an eye, you're sixty-five."

I wanted to cry.

I hated the thought of my body dying. It's so strange to imagine my body giving up on me while my life escapes slowly from my grip.

We all have to die at one point.

Then it got me thinking.

What is out there, awaiting us?

Is there really an afterlife? Are there golden-gates and fiery pits? Does an evil creature like Satan truly exist? Is my guardian angel watching over me now?

I decide, I didn't believe in any of that nonsense.

I believe we all have the power of the mind. Abstract power. The greatest power of all.

I allowed my mind to take me to places for years while I was growing up. My imaginations were so vivid that I could actually feel the wind battering softly against my skin. I could feel the kiss of the sun. I wanted it to last forever.

But my body was giving up on me.

I usually felt tired. Then I yawned. I struggled to keep my eyes open. Then I fell into a dreamless sleep.

That's right. I cannot dream while I sleep.

I can only dream when I'm awake.

In my sleep, I merely died. Then I woke up again - only to dream.

One day, there was a knock on my door. I don't know if I were dreaming or if it was reality. I was in a hazy state, like my head was still up in the clouds. Then I opened the door to see a dark figure. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.

I knew one thing for certain.

They held a gun up to my chest.

Now I lie in my blood, staring at the sky above me. They say you have eight seconds to live before you die.

In these eight seconds, I whisper thank you.

I can see the dark figure looming over my blurry vision. I can hear something faintly. He or she is telling me something...

Whoever they are, they kicked me, spat at me, and left me alone.

I am free.

At last.
Published: 3/9/2015
Bouquets and Brickbats