Hey guys, gess im just in story mode. Got another crazy/unorthodox story! Hope u enjpy it, it will be relevantly different from my norm.
Lily shifted uneasily in the white chair. She shuffled her feet on the polished white tile, she pulled at the loose strands on her ragged white adornments, and her eyes played off the blank white faces, blank white walls, and blank white air. She drew a white breath, and exchanged a fume of grey pessimism. She imagined the murkiness mingling with the pearl of the room's perfection, producing the off-colored offspring of indifference. She sighed. She bore the same inquisitive stare, the same mandated robes, and yet, there was something oddly different.
"Ms. Truscott, admission 6,666; we're ready for you." The walls boomed with the ominous voice, as it lurked in person's eardrums, wishing it were their name. A sigh of discontent murmured off the lips of bored company, and she began a routine march down the hollow white corridors. Alas she was met with a great white door, boasting great black letters. Judgment Room.
She opened the door to find a portly man, balding at the crown of his head, and carrying the character of a former businessman. He wore a suit that was much too tight, and he had thin lines of sweat settling in the many creases of his chins and forehead. He wiped them abruptly and looked up from his paperwork upon hearing the door chime.
"Hello Ms. Truscott!" He got up and gave a kind of bowing gesture to show his courtesy. "Oh dear now don't you frown so, this isn't the declaration of your damnation, child." His voice was deep and loud, bellowing in the small office, and causing his unnaturally red cheeks to shake. He sat back down, watching the inquiry before him.
"Oh now your face is so pale one could think you've seen a ghost!" He erupted in a hearty laugh at his joke, shaking his many chins, batting his knee with his meaty hand, and convulsing his great gut. It looked as though one of his buttons would soon come undone, and perhaps the chair could crack from the pulsating of his moving weight.
"Dear me, you really are afraid aren't you?" The man had quit his chuckle at the sight of the discomforted girl before him. "Dear me, dear me, poor child. Come, come sit." He had made a great effort to stand and grabbed gently for Lily's hand, before seating her in a chair before him.
She sat, her hand still trapped in two great clamps, and lying limply on the desk. His palms were sweaty as was his forehead once again, but beneath the glare of his tiny spectacles there was heart in his eyes.
He cleared his throat. "Now Ms. Truscott, I understand you are a new admission, but you are not ignorant of the decisions made in this room." He began with a foreign seriousness, his tone sounded salty and unusual for his jubilant face. "We've had few admissions of your … kind … before. And we've developed a plan for persons who perish in the activity of death as you have."
Her face was stolid and held an immovable factor of dissatisfaction.
"I see you are at a discomfort for the mentioning of your death. That is a good sign. See, when we receive juvenile suicide cases, we put them through a program to help them come to terms with the life they left. Do you understand?"
She remained unresponsive, and made no effort to hide the annoyance in her eyes.
"Ms. Truscott," he began, letting go of her hand and pulling the perspiration-glistened glasses off his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, before pulling them on and refocusing a comforting gaze. "Ms. Truscott, in this program, we send our admissions back to their lives on Earth. You will resume the same body, the same life, and you will go about doing whatever you find necessary to understand why your act of death was wrong."
To this, Lily voiced her growing anger.
"You're sending me back to that shithole?" At the word selection and the tone the tiny girl had just stabbed at him, he was immediate in sitting back, wearing a shocked expression, and clearing his throat in mild fear and nervousness.
"Please calm down Ms. Truscott, I understand it is a shock to you."
"You're gonna have a helluva lot more admissions here when everyone sees me 'back from the dead' and has a Goddamn stroke." Her voice was pure malice, producing a tone that he had heard maybe once in his thirty years of judging. He'd only accredit such anger toward a mental patient, let alone a teenage girl before him.
"Ms. Truscott, only those that will be beneficial in solving your life will be able to see you. Factors of your life that were problematic will certainly be dissolved. That includes your parents and the majority of your old acquaintances."
"Wait! I can't even be with my friends? My boyfriend?"
"I'm afraid not Ms. Truscott. The few people you did lay claim to were not nice people, and I shall soon see them here I'm afraid."
She leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I just wanna stay here. I don't care if I hafta sit in this ridiculous white building my whole … afterlife."
"I'm afraid this program has been mandated for a good twenty years now. You will attend counseling for a week to help you focus on your goals and becoming mentally stable to get back to the world you left. After that, you will complete the program."
"How long is it?"
"The program lasts a minimum timeframe of a year. Should it take you longer to discover what you are sent to discover, then you will stay until you find peace."
"A YEAR?!"
"Perhaps you should let this information marinate in your head overnight. While you're asleep, think about who you would like to select as your counselor. I'm always available." He paused and looked at her as sincerely as possible. "I know that our meeting was not on good terms due to the information I had to convey. But, I would so like to be your friend here, if ever you'll allow my acquaintanceship."
She huffed and shook her head, before standing as he did.
"Alright then, I'll have my assistant show you to your room." He said as he opened the door.
She made no gesture of appreciation, nor did she offer even the faintest of smiles.
"Maria, come would you dear?" He called out to the open corridor, before looking over to Lily once more. "It will be okay little one. Many have gone through this process. It'll be good for you in the end, I promise." He put a heavy hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off immediately, after giving a nearly inaudible mumble of "whatever."
In a matter of seconds, a tall, middle-aged, slim, and attractive woman came to the door, looking entirely made of plastic and perfection. To this, Lily rolled her eyes.
"Come sweetheart; let me take you to your room. It's just down the hall and to the right." The woman reached for the crook of the blonde's elbow, but she stormed off so quickly, and began her descent to her room.
"My, what an angry little girl! Richard, was she so hard to you?"
He chuckled softly, having made it back to his reclined position, and wiped lackadaisically at the sweat beads on his forehead.
"Dear me, can you see it on my face?" She chuckled back a fair bit before closing the door over and walking in.
"For a jolly face like yours, she's sure turned the lines askew. She's got those frustrations growing on you. But she was angry. She was sure angry."
"Indeed," he sighed, fingering a manila folder on his desk. "She's one of those cases she is. That's why she's so sour, dear. My," he looked longingly at the folder for some time, "it always gives me sadness to see this kind of death."
The woman walked across and placed a hand on his warm shoulder.
"Mind yourself Richard; I know this rocks your heart. You're as good a man as any, but don't you feel like this is your duty. You've spent a golden thirty years."
He chuckled and put his hand over the one she held on his shoulder.
"Maria, how could I manage without you? When my boy took his life, so many years ago, I needed to find out why. What could drive a child to such madness? In all the persons I've put in this program, there has never been a negative end result. She will find her truth, her peace, and she will die without the stress of sadness. After all, heaven doesn't host sadness does it my dearest?"
"No, no it doesn't good man. I must go for the next admission. Take care of yourself, I have all the faith in your decision. If you need help, I am always free for you." She gave a prize winning smile and departed, gently closing the door behind her.
The man gave a contemplative scan of his room, before readying himself for the next member.