The Earth After Rebirth

Chapter 2: Rebirth

'Warm. So warm. It doesn't hurt anymore. Is death supposed to be this warm? I suppose everything we've been told was a lie.'

'I can't believe I don't feel any pain, just a second ago I was in a hell of pain. Oh right, I'm dead, I don't have a body, so why would I be in pain without nerves.'

'Mm? Then how am I conscious? Isn't death supposed to be the last destination? Doesn't it end with death? Holy hell. Don't tell me there's truly a god.'

'I'll definitely be sent to hell, I never even believed. That's probably what the warmth is, I'm slowly descending the pits of hell.'

'Well none of that matters. I died with so many regrets, only to be conscious after death and continue the feeling of those regrets. How is that even fair? Tch, this god is probably just having a doozy.'

'Hahahaha. What a pathetic life I led. I could blame the society of course, but I truly did nothing to change my situation.'

Of course the man was severed from his body, he was just a wandering soul now. In a vast dark, waiting room. He assumed he couldn't see because he didn't possess eyes, but that was human thinking. A soul needed no such to see.

The darkness in the room was just so dense, that not even sound leaked in. It was as if he was floating in a vaccum of space, only there were no bright stars. Definitely no light at the end of the tunnel.

The man chuckled to himself. He couldn't help himself, in his world religion wasn't big but it was there. They did believe in the light after death concept, the amount of times they've harassed him trying to convert him. He wanted more than anything to appear before them, and tell them how much of a sham it all was.

'Petty.' A voice scoffed in his mind, only, it wasn't his voice.

'Huh? Who's there?' Even if he had a body, he wouldn't have been able to jump, not because of how startled he was. There didn't seem to be an up or down in the place he was forcibly put in.

'Dammnit, don't just do whatever you please. Are you the one who trapped me here? For what reason? Send me to hell or kill me completely,' he said trying to sound brave.

Albeit the voice never spoke again. That made him more unsettled, he felt like he was being watched. He felt so vulnerable, so alone, so fragile. There was nothing he could do but wait, wait for whatever this was out.

He was just a wandering soul, he didn't have something like his body to defend his essence. At least a body was a bag of meat, with a cage of bones. But he was just a soul now. And that scared him.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The alarm went haywire. Even though the room didn't seem like much, the alarm itself was advanced because it didn't stop croaking until it sensed movement and the change of breath. Announcing that he was awake.

A boy laid sprawled on the bed, sleeping peacefully. The same couldn't be said for the blankets, as they littered the floor. His eyebrows furrowed at the unwelcomed sound.

'So damn noisy,' he thought.

The sound felt familiar to him, as soon as he moved to announce he was awake, the alarm stopped.

'Am I still in that dark room? no, this feels a tad bit different. I feel, heavier.'

The boy slowly opened his eyes, his head throbbing in pain. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He struggled to remember what had happened.

He had borrowed money from loan sharks to invest in a business that had failed miserably. They had come to collect their money, and he had nothing to give them. They had beaten him mercilessly and left him for dead.

Even though this happened a few minutes ago, it felt foggy to say the least.

He now found himself in a room he hadn't seen in years. It was his old room from until he was 17 years. He was finally able to sit up, feeling disorientated and confused. He looked around, and everything was just as he remembered.

The same old posters on the walls glued with gum, the same old bedsheets, the same old books on the shelf with torn pages and broken spines.

'But what am I doing here? Is this part of a journey to the afterlife or something. Is this the life flashing before my eyes concept?'

He didn't understand what was happening, his confused mind attempted to make sense of everything. He couldn't.

But this was definitely the room, with its dirty walls and the smell of mould. The tiny window that seemed to have been crafted to at least get the sunlight in. The ceiling that's almost caving in.

The four walls that were so close together, they'd be enemies to a claustrophobic person. The bed that was hard, almost as if it were concrete. Yeah, this was definitely the childhood room he shared with his younger brother.

He quickly got up to see what was happening, whether his parents and siblings were still alive. He almost fell losing his balance, the sudden dizziness forced him to sit right back down, he tried getting up again slowly this time. Luckily the dizziness had gone. Just as he was about to run past the mirror, he saw it, it couldn't be. He quickly doubled back.

'A younger me?'

He stood there for a solid minute, like a statue, transfixed, shocked beyond imagination and not being able to process or fathom what was right in front of him. He had definitely read these absurd stories from the old earth, but it couldn't be, this must be a dream.

'Do we regress back to our younger selves in the afterlife?' That was the question that plagued his mind. He didn't believe in any god, but this experience was slowly making him doubt everything.

There in the mirror stood a boy of about 17 years old, staring back at him. Brown smooth skin, tall, sharp facial features, deep blue eyes and dark brown curly hair and he was a bit malnourished.

This was without a doubt his 16 year old self, the virtual calendar on the wall reminded him that he was yet to be 17. Though it wouldn't be long before he did.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He kept touching his face making sure he really did have a physical younger body. He was astonished that he once looked like this.

He looked so rested and stress free. No dark lines under the eyes, no looks of despair could be seen. Still so oblivious about how the world works. He chuckled at how naïve he once was.

He stumbled to the door and out of his room and immediately his nose was attacked by a wave of a familiar aroma. Something he hadn't smelled for more than 7 years. His knees grew weaker, he couldn't walk properly, so he used the dirty walls to support himself. Like a man possessed he had to see it.

Their house was extremely small so it didn't take a second for him to walk into the kitchen from his room, where everyone but his mum were seated.

There she was, standing by the stove, preparing breakfast or dinner for everyone. He wasn't sure, he was so out of it he couldn't tell whether it was night or day. But it was evening, the alarm must've sensed his abnormal heart speed, so it woke him up.

His mother looked as beautiful and as old as he remembered. Her black back length hair, her big Hazel eyes that seemed to carry all the hope in the world.

"Mum—" His voice came out so soft it was almost a whisper. He felt his face becoming hot, and it was hard to swallow as a huge lump took residence in his throat.

His mother turned around, smiling and humming, but her expression changed with knitted eyebrows when she saw her son. Who looked so depressed, she swore he had woken up from a grave.

"What's wrong baby? Shouldn't you be sleeping, the viral shot should still be very active in your body," she said, her voice full of concern.

"Viral Shot?" He asked looking confused at first.

Then he remembered, everyone when they came of age got a shot. The world wasn't what it once was, the shot ensured they lived longer and healthier in the new world. He now understood why he was feeling groggy. But that all didn't matter to him.

That voice. It was her voice alright. It's the voice that was warm to him but also cold when he was being a bad son, the soft yet sharp voice that scolded whenever he wouldn't wash his school uniform or when he left the dishes in the sink without washing them. The voice that was plagued with concern when he was sick and bedridden for days.

'Am I dreaming? Is this, heaven?'

Though he didn't really care what this was, he could feel pain, that meant one way or another this wasn't a dream. All that mattered was that, his family, was here with him. Sitting at the same table they always had.

Ensuring they ate together at every meal, whenever they could. Something that became tradition in his family.

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