I know that I posted this earlier in the week but it didn’t get the notice that I thought it might. I do still want to post it all so I am going to set it up as a series to run on Saturday when I have decided not to put a regular post. So, for the next 9 weeks there will be the next snippet of story. I think I will toy with the e-book thing at the end if anyone wants the whole kit and caboodle at once. Indulge me this week, next week Part 2.
Death With a Vengance
By Justin Matthews
It is always strange waking up in a place that you don’t recognize. It is even more strange when that place happens to look like the morgue from the horror movie you saw last night. I blinked and looked around the room trying to understand what was going on and where I actually was. A morgue? Could I be dead? I could see well enough. I wasn’t cold at all.
I could smell the alcohol and the stainless steel of the autopsy tables. I could even hear water dripping in the sink to my right. I could even hear the distant clacking of an old fashioned typewriter typing what could have been autopsy reports. All of this was crystal clear to me, yet, I couldn’t feel my arms or legs. Or anything for that matter. Maybe my body had finally given up trying to combat my lousy diet and slothfulness. Maybe I was injured and this was some strange hospital room and not an autopsy room in a morgue.
I sat up and was astonished at not feeling the familiar weight of my body rising with me. I turned to look and saw my 6′ 2″ frame lying on the table, broken and battered. My brown hair was matted with blood, my skin was lacerated showing jagged shards of white bone in several places. I almost fell to the floor recoiling in horror from the sight. But I didn’t fall. Instead I floated upward toward the ceiling above the table. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from myself. I floated for an undetermined amount of time just staring with horrified disbelief at the sight below me. The realization dawned on me. I was only a spirit. A disembodied wraith.
I jerked around as the door opened and an old man with horn rimmed glasses entered and approached my body on the table. He took a clipboard from under his arm and placed it next to a steaming cup of coffee that I hadn’t noticed before. He fished in the pocket of a worn, once white lab coat and retrieved a cheap ballpoint pen. He scribbled on a form attached to the clipboard, smoothed down an unruly lock of white hair, donned a pair of thin surgical gloves, turned on the morgue’s dictation machine and began his gruesome work: my autopsy.
“Poor Schmuck. I wonder why his life was so bad. Looks like an alright guy.” he mumbled to himself and the recorder as he cut off the torn and bloody clothes that I had been wearing. “These suicides always make me wonder.” Suicide? Why in the name of…..Suicide? Surely not me. I…I couldn’t have…suicide? I couldn’t believe suicide, yet, from somewhere inside my head a familiar voice was laughing and taunting “…suicide…suicide…murder…suicide…” I was horrified all over again.
As I listened to the coroner dictate my autopsy report and tried to recall what terrible events could lead up to this finality of life, or my life as it was.
That night a few days earlier was still a blur. Even now, the horror being remembered, the events still seemed to fly by faster than thought. My wife had finally decided to leave me for good following a string of affairs on her part and I didn’t want to fight for her anymore. I had tried to kick her out before but just couldn’t bear to face life alone. I had let her stay and continue walking all over me.
She finally left and I didn’t know if I could still care. I didn’t know if I could deal with her, myself and life in general. I had to get away. I had to drown the pain. I had to drown the pain in cheap whiskey and even cheaper beer until all of my problems had auditioned possible solutions for themselves. I had to confer with the only friend I thought I had left, booze.
Part 2 Continues Here!
Part 3 Is Here!
Part 4 right here!
And Part 5 Is Here!
Part 6 Right Here!