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I hate the sound of flies. The whispered humming of their wings makes me want to scream. They remind me of how useless I really am.

I guess I could be considered a Grim reaper of sorts, although I don'tactually cut the life string. I am fairly often however the first thing they see when the doctors fail.

The interesting thing about me is that I know I'm dead and I'm ok with that. Not that I like it, I just except it. It's what I thought I wanted. I have to give myself some credit on the fact that I was the only suicide they had ever seen to actualy take the time to freeze themself to death. Now that's determination for you.

It was craziness everyone was all running around crazy like. The doctors knew there was nothing they could do, they believed that maybe just maybe hypothermia hadn't hit yet and maybe I was in the first stages. They believed with the want to save and maybe for the families sake, but they knew it was hopeless.

I was pretty amused by all the activity going on, all those people fussing over such a weak and pathedic shell. It was the most positive attention I had ever gotten.

In life I was usualy a fairly sickly child. A complete and utter burden on my parents who by the way were very unhappy. God only knows why they stayed together. Wasn't for my sake. Like I said, I was layed up a lot and since I basicaly ruined my mom's life she felt that it was her obligation to let me know what a wast of space I was, as if I didn't know already.

My peers weren't exactly what I would consider inspiring. Bullied and tormented.

The people in my computer class were cool. I was lucky enough to be in the class that had every other outcast and geek in the school. I was even lucky enough to be seated right next to the most wonderful girl in existence. Isebella Brockerst. She had dark hair and dark eyes, she was of Mexican desent. She was blessed witha stigmatizim that caused her to wear glasses. The frames she wore were thin and pretty just like her. I see this as a blessing because since she had to wear glasses since like second grade she used to get teased, now even though they stoped she was still shy and lonely. I couldn't have loved her moved.. her brains, her kindness, sigh.

Now a days however all I saw was ugliness and death. At first I figured this has got to be a test, a rite of passage into heaven. If I could hack it I'd be home free, after all when I died no grim reaper came no flash of light, nothing. I just hovered above my body until someone found me. Then they got all paniky and called the perimedics. I went to the emergency room and just never left.

Damn, that day kept playing through my head. Other memories kept fading. Everytime I closed my eyes I saw it happening again and again. It played so far off it looked like I was watching it through a tunnel this little figure no bigger then a Gi Joe jusy laying there. Sometimes I would see my mom yelling or the countless bullies that destroyed my soul through the years. But it always came back to the tunnel like destiny I was ment to do that, my life was just ment to be a stepping stone so others could feel better about themselves and excell, well I wasn't about remain that extra umf forever.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. At first I figured it was a test my period of purgatory perhaps. But then I started thinking (it was hard) one day, bible studies. They started running through my head. MORTAL SINS. Those two words all of a sudden screamed themselves as loud as fucking possible, I thought my head was going to explode. Then as if there was another person in my head a deep voice boomed.

I am the lord thy god thou shale not have strange Gods before me. Thou shale not take the name of the lord God in vain. Remember to keep holy the sabith day. Honor thy father and mother. Then the voice screamed in that ear peirceing manner again. Thou shale NOT kill. The word not echoed through my head for days. It echoed so feircely I couldn't move. That tunel that my mind had put between me and my death grabed me by a hook and yanked me as hard as it could right back to the sene, my death contiuously played itself before my eyes. It was like watching a movie over and over again. Each time was more intense, more detailed then the last.

At first it was very normal I watched as I had a hundred times before. Then out of nowhere I could hear it. All of it, low at first but louder everytime we went back to square one. My heart beating, the blood running through my vains, the breathing, muscles twitching every once in a while. The last time that I saw it in that trance my head was so full of the sounds of life that it was as though I was there again in true real life each piece of me hammering away just living like nothing was wrong, but I knew in a matter of minutes the process would be irriverseable and they would all shut down, it was almost like they thought, 'ok, bodies slowing down' they saw it was time for bed 'we'll be up in the morning'. But then they weren't up in the morning they turned pale then after that I can't imagine what happened all I saw was people running back and forth thinking the same thing my organs were probably thinking when they realized that there would be no tomarrow. 'How could this happen'.

That's when it hit me. I watched the sene fade into darkness. Thou shale not kill. It was such a simple rule no one should die by your hand. Not even yourself. I was in hell, I was to spend eternity in my owm aweful company. Watching and being unable to help. It had all become so clear now. Hell, true hell (not the slight announces of life but real honest hell) is a personal experiance. The thing with fire and brim stone was just one person's veiw. That was his fear of hell. I mean what if an evil person is also a massacist, I don't think being cut open by demons would bother them that much. Of if thety felt thtey deserved the pain, how could it be torture if you want it in either regard. No hell was ment to shake one down to the very core of their soul, to torcher them and make their fears a reality.

My great fear, my torment was being forgotten or over looked and especialy being unable to help. When I was alive I always thought I was useless, but now I truely know what being pathedic and weak is and now my mind is full of regrets. There was so much I could have done. I could have been the one to interject when Sareavo thought it was a good idea to see if Alfred could fly ooff the school roof. Three broken ribs, a broken leg, a fractured wrist and a lot of theropy later he seems fine, but it's not always the physical end that people should worry about. For the rest of his life Alfred has to deal with the fact that when some dumb jock grabed him by his pocket protector and walked to a ladder forced him up it taunted and hit him merceylessly not one person even attempted to say something. Just think of it, if someone had said something one little word, it probably wouldn't have stoped what did eventualy happen but Al would have at least known that not everyone thought it was funny. He may have even made a friend that day. Blessings in disquise, and that's life. I know that now but I can't put any of it to use, no one hears no one knows I'm here.

I have to ask a favor of anyone who reads and decides to make a comment. Please tell me exactly what you think needs fixing. Thank you.

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The following comments are for "life and death"
by Rincewind

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