My most violent and accidental death.

A mini story I came up with while slowly deteriorating from my professor’s ramblings. This story is about my imaginary death after being bombarded and brutally murdered with boredom in a stagnant English class.

All of a sudden I am hovering in midair, temporarily disoriented by this surreal disposition. I look down and see myself collapsed upon the floor, with white stuff foaming at my mouth and blood streaming down my cheeks like tears. Overcome with horror I attempt to locate my body, as irrational as it is since my physical self has clearly expired below me. I soon find that I have transcended from the earthly realm and entered the realm of the ethereal. I am now a ball of light, unbound by flesh and gravity.

At this discovery I move about in delight. Perfectly self-conscious, I am overjoyed with an overflowing sense of freedom.

And then I am trapped. Despite my current form consisting of countless photons or god-knows-what-I-am-now, I feel my nose bump into something solid, and my face–mental residues of physical perceptions–slams into a transparent wall. Of course I no longer have a nose and a face. Human habits are hard to come off. I imagine that I must be dizzy from impact but the advantage of having an ethereal body, as I have soon learned, is the incapability of physical wounds and apparently, pain.  I quickly adjust to this and embody myself as a ball of light that I am and slam myself against the invisible prison, like a furious fairy.

Perhaps I appear as a spec of light in the eyes of the mortal; I think to myself as I try to break free. Mortal! Am I immortal, then? Can I vanish right here and now? My entire being shakes from the thought of annihilation. Is this the end? Is this death? Is this the after-life? Is there no God?

“Kimberly. That is your name, is it not?”

I recover myself from my existential fright and refocus my vision. Apparently, I have been captured inside a glass jar of some sort, with a huge hand covering the top to prevent my from escaping. Annoyed at my powerlessness and treatment as an insect (an inevitable and most troublesome association), I search for the source of that booming voice.

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