When people say that your life flashes before your eyes in a near death experience, they lie. My life didn’t. And when you’re standing at a building’s edge, staring down at the brilliant city lights with one foot being the only thing keeping you from careening down the side, I would call that a near death experience. I had expected to see all of the major events in my life. Like that first time I rode a bike. Or that time Mom told me I was the most important guy in her life. Or maybe even the little things. Like when Dad gave me hug on the first day of school to wish me good luck. But my mind remained an infinite void of nothing. In fact, the only things “flashing before my eyes” were the literal lights below me, glinting as if beckoning me to take that final leap. My left foot was planted firmly on the cement rooftop while my right dangled freely in the open air.

I tried to think about why I was here. This week had been weird. Not bad. Not good. Just weird. And the thing was, I don’t think I really talked to anyone or did anything that was different than my usual routine. My memory was like a film reel that someone had torn to shreds. I remembered up until the end of the school day and then everything went blank or skipped around or didn’t even make sense. I didn’t even remember what school day it was. There was a section of my memory that was missing. And now I was here. How I got here remained a mystery. But I was here, about to kill myself.

However, my intent was not to kill myself, I don’t think. I was trying to remember. And in movies, people remember things in near death experiences. You know. Like this. But the information that was frantically jumbling itself up inside my head was unreliable. Nothing made sense. And I couldn’t really comprehend my reasoning for standing so close to my death.

I was so close, it would have been easy to make that last move. But what would be the point? To remember, I suppose. To remember what had happened this week. Because when you’re so close to your death that you can almost feel your head smashing into the concrete and endure the snapping of your fragile neck and taste the scarlet, salty fluid on your tongue before your body slowly shuts down forever, you’re supposed to remember. All of it is supposed to come rushing back.

But my memories could not be retained. As I stood, looking at the ant-like cars scurrying beneath me, I tried to push my mind. What building was this? From here, it looked like it could’ve been any of the medium sized structures that were sprinkled throughout the great city of New York.
C’mon, Don, you’ve lived here your whole life, where are you? I asked myself, my foot still floating over the edge of whatever building this was, flapping in the air like a flag. I blinked and glared down again, my eyes burning from staring at the city lights. I didn’t recognize anything.
Okay, so nothing looks familiar. Maybe you can find something that will give you another idea, I thought, scoping out the surroundings. Across from me, I could see bright fluorescent lights blinking in the distance. That was probably Times Square.
Good work. I patted myself on the back. To my right, I couldn’t see anything but a line of buildings engulfed in shadows, cars lighting them up as they passed by. To the left, it was pretty much the same. Underneath me, there were just bumper-to-bumper cars, honking at each other to move passed the shadow-painted buildings. Great. There were no other clues to tell me where I could’ve been.
Wait. There. I squinted to make sure I was seeing correctly. Yes. Okay. There, parked in front of the building, was a large white hospital van. And there was another emergency vehicle not too far from it.
Nice sleuthing, I thought to myself. I was on a hospital. But, why? It wasn’t long before I noticed what I was wearing. I was in a stark white hospital gown that fell to my calves. It stuck to my front uncomfortably, but my back prickled as the frigid air brushed against it. Then I noticed the throbbing. My head was pounding. I reached up to my hairline and felt something sticky. Huh. Why was I bleeding? Why was I in a hospital gown?
“What the hell?” I murmured, finally breaking the silence I’d thrown myself into. It felt weird to speak. My voice sounded distant and far away, almost like it wasn’t mine. “What the hell?” I echoed. Not just because I was confused, but also because I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to hear my voice again. And it still didn’t sound like me.
I inched closer to the edge.
Why couldn’t I remember? Something had happened to me, that was obvious. But trying to figure out what had occurred was making the slice on my head ache. The toes on my left foot wrapped around the edge of the building, the chilly stone burning my skin. I didn’t know why I was about to throw myself off the side, but in some sick and twisted way, I wanted to. Maybe I had done something wrong and I needed to die. Or…
I didn’t know. I don’t think I really wanted to. The only think I knew was that I didn’t know. And I wanted to remember. So, I stepped off the edge.


When you think about death, you think pain. I, however, felt nothing. Nothing but the pressure on my chest as the air pushed back at me. And then calm. I had flown through the air for mere seconds, like a soaring bird. But the bird I had become was injured. The hospital gown flapping around me had become my wings. But they were broken. And then I was on the ground, the sound of impact radiating around me. My bones were breaking, my heart was stopping, my neck snapping, but I felt nothing.

And then it was dark.

So dark, that I could hold my hand in front of my eyes, but still not be able to see it. At least, I think that’s what I was doing. But, I should be dead. So how could I be holding anything in front of my face? I blinked my eyes, trying to make them adjust to the surroundings. But there were no surroundings. So what was there to see? Nothing.

I tried to move, but I was stuck. My scrawny body was being squeezed from all directions, flat pieces of hard material holding me in an awkward position that made my limbs ache. I attempted to roll onto my side, but the slab of material above me hung low, rubbing against my shoulder. So I stopped moving and tried to scream instead. When I realized that my voice, as well as my sight, was completely impaired, I felt tears begin to stream down my cheeks.

Crying, Don? Really? I shook my head in disgrace. What a coward.

When I thought that I couldn’t take anymore of the enclosure, the overhanging slab above me began to rise and open, golden streams pouring in through the new cracks.

“Well, I don’t think this is where you’re supposed to be, hm?” A silhouetted figure above me leaned over the opened box, reaching down to help me out. My eyes burned as the light absorbed into their light blue color. I squinted as I lifted my hand into the figure’s and shakily stood up with his help. My legs were uncontrollably quivering as I stood in what I now knew to be a casket. Without this man, I would have collapsed.

“Are you alright, son?” He asked, lifting my arm around his shoulder so that he could hold me up comfortably. My eyelids hung heavily over my eyes as I turned to look at my savior. He was at least 40 with light skin and even lighter hair. There were deep creases in his angular face that gave him a friendly, fatherly look. The only off-putting thing about him was that his eyes were scarlet.

“I… Maybe…” I attempted to shove words together in my head and shoot them out of my vocal chords. It felt like I was relearning how to talk and it frustrated me.

“You took quite a fall there, son. Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, my eyes closing fully.


I woke up on a chair. It was a creaky chair in the center of a dimly lit room. There was nothing there but a fireplace, but it gave to room a warm, orange glow that filled me with warmth.

What is even happening right now, I thought to myself, as I looked around the bleak room. The man was standing in the corner. I jumped, the old chair crying under my intense weight shift.

“S***, man. You scared me,” I breathed a sigh of relief, but my heart still felt heavy in my chest and a lump of anxiety was forming in the back of my throat.

“No need to be nervous.” The man slid over to my side. “You’re already dead, there’s not much else you need to worry about.” When he said that, the realization finally set in. Okay, so that whole thing did actually happen. Awesome. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I think the better question would be where is here,” I pointed out, still confused.

“Hell, of course.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. That would have been my first guess, most definitely.”

“I thought it would have been obvious. Since you murdered that woman. No one who kills gets to go to Heaven, son.” The man spoke nonchalantly, almost as if this were a normal conversation to be having.

“I didn’t kill anyone. What are you talking about?”

“The woman. With your car. It was a few months ago, but we don’t forget anything down here. It’s on your permanent record, the one that determines where you’ll be permanently placed after you die. You know.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” I looked up at him and he rolled his eyes, straightening the tie around his neck. The suit he wore made him look like an everyday businessman. But the way he dressed didn’t fit his character.

“Try to remember. That’s why you killed yourself. Because you killed her.” His bright red eyes burned into my own pale ones, but I couldn’t look away. But then, the memory came flooding back to me as if someone had restored my film reel of my brain.

It was New Years Eve and I had been drinking. But my best friend, he had been drinking more, so he gave me his keys and told me to drive him home. I don’t even remember where we were to begin with, but it was some place very unfamiliar to me, so I should have known not to drive. But I did anyway. And when we ran into that small Mercedes Benz, I hadn’t even seen in through my windshield. The woman in the front seat flew through the windshield of her car. And I smashed into mine.

“What day is it?” I asked, in a trance.

“July 17th, my boy.”

“Wow.” I must have sustained a strong enough head injury to throw me into a coma. But the woman wasn’t so lucky, I guess. And it was my fault. If only I had just stayed at the party, I thought.

“Yes, if only,” the man chortled, reading my thoughts as if it were some comedic story.

“Can’t I do something?”

“You’re dead.”

“But can’t you bring me back?”

“Maybe.”

“Well?”

“Well what? I’m not your friend. I’m here to take you to your quarters and show you the Hell you’ll be living in.

“Let me fix this.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You don’t think?”

“You don’t think.” He stated.

“I do think, actually.”

Silence.

“You killed yourself. You could have had the time of your life once you got out of jail. That’s not my fault.”

“I only did it to remember. And now I do.”

“Well aren’t you just the winner of today. Congratulations. You did it. Do you want an ice cream or something?”

“No, I want to live.” I stared at the man. He sighed. “Please let me fix this.”

“I’m not usually one to appreciate this type of thing, but you have heart. I don’t really think you deserved to die so young. But. That’s just life.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Don’t screw up this time.”


“Don! Dude! Pass me a Natty, bro!” Someone screamed into my ear. I couldn’t tell who it was, but he smelled of vodka and light beer. Weird combination. I can’t stand it. I felt myself regaining consciousness, as if I were waking up from a horribly long nap. Where was I? I looked around. There were dancing, loud, drunk people everywhere, screaming about some random something that didn’t actually pertain to anything that was happening. I had my hand wrapped tightly around the neck of my beer.

“Whoa, bro, you okay?” The someone that had screamed earlier turned out to be my best friend, Justin. “You haven’t even touched your drink, man.”

“Yeah.” I put the drink down on the table. “Yeah, I’m good.” I could tell I wasn’t drunk. The thoughts in my head were making sense and I could remember why I was here. I had been given a second chance and I wasn’t going to mess up this time.