I was… weak.
There was no other way to put it. I was simply weak.
All my life I had been that, a talentless thing always relying on the talent and grace of others to go by. Some would consider my ability to find such people a talent in itself, but not me. I was talentless and weak, and I hated myself for it.
But there was one other person I hated even more, the man that killed me.
He came from nowhere, one man crashing a wedding with a shotgun. The bride was his greatest desire and he had to have her.
It was my wedding, it was my bride.
It was also the first time that I stood up for something, for myself and the woman who clearly did not want to go with the man. And for it, I got shot in the chest.
Submerged in darkness that was the only thing I could about, my death, my inability to protect someone, my weakness. And the more I thought about it, the more I hated it, hated my weakness, hated the man that killed me. I wished I was not so weak, wished that I had the power to stand up for myself and protect the people I wished to protect.
Hate, hate and only hate was the only emotion that I felt, it was all I felt in death.
At first, it was a single flicker in the darkness, like light reflecting off a coin. Then there were more such flickers until it looked like a swarm of glow bugs circling in the darkness, swirling like a tornado. I reached out towards it and the swarm burst, small flecks of light showering me and my surroundings. But it did not alleviate the darkness.
Soft footsteps had me turning around. The silhouette of a woman was slowly becoming visible behind him, slowly making her way towards where I stood. The closer she got the clearer she became, until she stood in all her glory just a few steps behind me.
The robe she wore was dark purple, regal and flowing with embroidery of stars done in golden thread. She was short, had pale skin and brilliant violet eyes, and had flowing black hair. She wore no jewellery except a tiara on her head. At the front of the tiara, there are three finely carved faces, evenly spaced around its circumference with a torch placed intricately in between each pair. Each face is a distinct visage, portraying different aspects of expression.
The woman stared at me and I stared at her, in silence, unmoving. She was looking me from head to toe as if she was judging me. Was she going to decide what was to happen to me now? Whether I was going to heaven or hell?
"I will be doing no such thing" the wmoan's voice, so gentle yet sharp, had me almost fall to my knees. There was a king of power in that voice that made me want to do it.
"You read my mind" I muttered.
"You hate your weakness" the woman went on, ignoring my comment. "If given the chance, would you like to remedy that? Should I give you a second chance and the means to stand up for yourself and not be powerless, would you fix what you hate about yourself?"
"You are reading my mind" I couldn't help the scowl on my lips, a short lived scowl that was soon replaced by a thoughtful frown. My heat was racing and my mind was racing with thoughts. The power to stand up for myself, a second chance to better my self. Was she offering me a revival? To magical retaurn and rescue my wife from the assailant.
Don't be stupid this is not a movie!
My own voice berated me, yet I did not have the heart to listen. None of this was normal. I was shot. I was brought here. And now this woman was offering me a choice. It could very well be a movie of all things.
"Yes!"
My answer came out a lot more enthusiatic than what I expected, but the woman seemed to like it. She raised her hand and placed it on my chest. Her hand began to glow a bright white and then I was falling into a pit of darkness.