Copyright 2012 by W Bradley
Published at Smashwords
Death: One of those seldom spoken topics, rarely with thought of the actual implications. Those who fear death, or rather ‘being dead,’ think of it too much; in far too much depth. Those who do not fear being dead repress the idea of it, but they will die along with all of us.
Enter religion. Religions promise some of us humans hope; something beyond the shadow of the end. They promise Idyllic afterlives, Gods to care for us, messiahs to rescue us from sin and turn us to the paths of righteousness. Paths plural? Not all the religions can be right.
Sounds too good to be true. It all seems like fantasy; too far removed from what science knows as fact.
I woke to the crack of a gun the day I died. I’m sure my expression betrayed my fear, though I attempted to disguise it; whoever had killed me would not have the satisfaction of my terror. I looked up at my assailant but there was no way of knowing who he (or she, let’s not be sexist) might be as a dark hood shadowed his or her face. Why conceal your identity from a murder victim? Did they think they might fail? I tried to reach up and pull the hood away but my arms felt heavier than lead. I gave up. It was much easier to die than try to keep myself from the inevitability for longer.