Story Time

Thomas
My face is the last thing you see when you die.

Remember that story of the light at then end of the tunnel? Not true. For what people claim to be near-death experiences is nothing more than the last crackle of synaptic activity releasing your brain from this existence. No, it's not heaven, it's your power source and on-board computers shutting down. *Bing*

My face is the last thing you see when you die.

Popular thought has it that your friends and family who've passed on will be there to greet you in the great beyond. Wouldn't that be great? Grandpa's there to shake your hand and give you that comfy hug, your dog's there (because all dog's go to heaven) ready to play catch, and even your old math teacher Mrs. Wormwood is there for old time's sake. Nope, none of them are, as your brain shuts down, it rifles through the images you've held onto most vividly, that being the most emotionally responsive memories in your brain. We can all pretend that those who've passed on are really There, but really, all we do have are memories.

My face is the last thing you see when you die.

That last death rattle you get? Once upon a time it was construed to be your soul making its last escape to the netherworld. From there it was either heaven, hell, or that hospital waiting room in limbo, purgatory. Some believe that ghosts are ectoplasmic refugees gliding across the astral plane, forever haunting their past live's acquaintances. There's talk of will o' the wisps, La Llarona, the Headless Horseman, all myths. You imagine it to be the creature under the bed, the monster in your closet. It's not. Let's pretend is a game you play when you're underdeveloped. Your mind is malleable, fresh for the chisel that sculpts imagination. Gas anomalies, old women's parables, and unsettled houses make pretty statues to crowd the empty halls of young brains.

My face is the last thing you see when you die.

Who am I? Let's say I'm your subconscious conscience. Every inkling of doubt you feel when you approach that high-dive ledge? That's me. I'm the one who sets you against yourself, the self-deprecating wound that eats you from the inside when you need it the least. Whenever there's a deal to be made, a life to be saved, or an itch to be scratched, I'm there to keep it from happening. When you're there on your deathbed, thinking of your life and what you've accomplished, I'm the one you'll be cursing. The one you'll be cursing for all the procrastination, all the missed opportunities, and all the unfinished business. You're really cursing yourself, because the last thing you see when you die is your own face.

In the mirror.

Forever.