Death was warm.
But, it didn't quite meet the expectation we all acquired when we inevitably pondered dying; Death wasn't capable of comforting lost souls in a sweltering embrace. However, there wasn't a hint of frost in the perception. In fact, it was all completely off.
There's no denying that Death embraces you. And there's no denying the avid heat in its depth.
On the other hand, there was no kindness in the gesture. Instead, it was as if Death was far too massive, far more menacing than ever imagined. The sort of intimidation that would constitute a heart attack if you hadn't already passed.
It's as if Death's touch burnt and belittled you. As if suddenly you were too small, too innocent in the arms of Death.
And if that was the case, Death could pull you in, securing you in its talons. Before you know it, you'll just be stuck. Death was a greedy, lonely creature. If you let yourself become sucked in, then he may decide to hold onto you for an eternity, until he's stolen every last bit of warm, bitter life out of you.
Perhaps that's why he was scorching to the the touch. He'd spent aeons leeching the life out of the innocent, so much to the point where life was utterly overwhelming and simply too pure to simply touch.
.
I'm not sure how much time passed. My senses were nulled, the only one seeming to work in the beginning had been my sense of touch. However, after time, I had become accustomed to the everlasting scorch, and the feeling had subsided to a dull flame. It was something I knew was there, but for the life of me (seeping, seeping away…) I couldn't feel anymore pain, comfort, anything.
For me, it felt as though I was there for the years and years and years that I would've endured in life had it not been cut painfully short.
In this time, I found myself reliving my life in erratic scenes always cut too short, and imagining the way my life could've, should've, gone. I saw my parents, saw the way they nearly always smiled. They taught me everything. I saw how they could've sent me off to college. How they could've helped me move to my first place. How my father would've walked me down the aisle. How my children would've smiled and laughed with my parents just how I always did. However, the fond daydream was abruptly cut off with screaming and yelling and pain oh god so much pain so much suffering why red so so so so much groaningly obvious red-
My soul sobbed, and I imagined tears running down innocent cheeks. It was ironic, I'd never cried so much before and now I barely have the parts to do it successfully.
In the duration of my time with Death, I also find myself imaging my close friends, cousins, aunts, uncles, even distant relatives… but they all ended in a rush of pain, blood, so so much blood…
I tried to cry. I tried to speak. I tried to see through eyes that no longer existed. I tried everything, but I always came back with nothing. It was akin to putting so much effort into something and getting no results, all whilst having to watch someone pass you by with the ease of a natural.
I wanted to die…
But that was ridiculous. I was long dead to the point where my body was likely being devoured by thousands of little, greedy insects. And surely, anything life dealt had to be better than what awaits one on the other side. Surely something, no matter how utterly distasteful, was better than nothing?
The more time that passed, the more I began to feel as though the my black, scorching reality was closing in on everything I was. The more I felt my very heart clench in agony and I thought I'd probably suffocate if that was even a possibility.
.
Just when I thought Death would surely suffocate me, something shifted. There was one final restraint before I was engulfed in foreign but familiar sounds of voices and blinding light and I… felt the absence of heat.
It wasn't cold, but, the constricting hold of scorching Death was nowhere to be found.
I let out a wail, feeling the tears as they ran down my cheeks and tasted the air as I gulped it down to my lungs in a gluttonous fashion. And it was with a victory cry that my new life began.
.
.
.
Upon entering my new life, there were few things I understood.
One, something even the most dubious person would catch, I was a baby. A full-blown sniffly, helpless baby.