Rotten

When I awoke I was in some kind of coffin. Is this a joke? I thought, Are the guys pranking me again? Why am I in a coffin? It hadn't hit me yet that I was dead.

Somehow, I managed to push the lid off. Maybe they hadn't nailed it, maybe I was just super strong. Either way, the lid came off and I was free.

When I realised I was in a graveyard, my stomach dropped. Would my mates really go this far? I doubted they would. But why was I here, why had I been in a coffin? Unless. . . I was actually dead? No, I couldn't be. I refused to believe it.

I staggered across to a large stone building. In it was the bodies of important people, actors, singers, even a duke. In it was a mirror.

I couldn't believe the face that stared back at me. There was bags under it's eyes, mould on it's face and a chalky complexion that even a ghost would have envied.

Is that really me?

Yes, was the answer. My skeletal hands traced over the patches of green on my face. My hair, once short and brown, had grown and turned pale yellow. I looked creepy. I looked dead.

God, I thought, What am I going to do?

It was at that exact moment that I fainted.

I don't know how I could faint. I mean, I was dead, right? Dead people aren't supposed to faint. At least, I don't think they are. I'd never heard of a dead person fainting, anyway.

I awoke to the cool feel of a wet towel on my forehead.

"There, there," a soft, musical voice rung in my ears. I opened my eyes. Leaning over me was a beautiful girl with long, blonde hair that fell over her face is soft waves and milky skin. Her eyes were a mixture of green and brown, with little gold flecks, and she had a few freckles scattered across her nose. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she dabbed his forehead.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" she grinned, letting her face relax, "I'm Bridgette. Welcome to the afterlife!"