My head was fuzzy, it pulsed hard as if I had ingested something far too heavy. As I reclined myself on the chair, I sat upon, and placed my hand on my head to soothe the pounding migraine. I realized I didn't know where I was. Looking around, I was in what looked like an interrogation room—one gray metal door, gray walls, gray lighting, and gray everything!? I was gray too! My once colorful Hawaiian shirt and pants filled to the brim with colorful annotations and puns were now colorless husks.
Before I could panic and let my mind spiral, the metal door opened with a click. Its bottom scraped against the floor, making a chilling yet irritating sound. As it swung open, the figure who stepped in was an old pale man. He wore an office suit, tie, and all. I might have mistaken him for another ordinary office worker if not for the numerous black cables attached to his back. He calmly walked toward the chair opposite me, cables in tow. Once he was fully seated, he gave me a once-over as if evaluating me.
"How was your rest, Mr. F? I hope you didn't find your accommodations too harsh. This entire little room was made under… quick recommendation." He gently extended his hand for a handshake, which I instinctively took. The moment my hand met his, it felt as if molten metal had touched my skin. "Did I shake hands with the devil?" I blurted out quickly, shaking my hand, hoping the stale air would cool it down and not try to cry from the searing pain.
The suited old man looked dumbfounded as he processed my words, then a sly grin appeared. "No, much worse," he said with a grin and a chuckle that no longer resembled a human voice. "Anyway, I'd like to apologize. I sometimes forget that the human body cannot withstand 'hot' things."
He gave a respectful bow before pulling out a sleek suitcase embroidered with sigils and gold. He flipped it to face him, opening it with an audible hiss as mist wafted out, yet no matter the angle, I couldn't see what was inside. "Mr. F, would you kindly not try to peek at these sensitive files I'm currently organizing… please." He looked at me with a kind smile as he calmly and professionally told me to look away.
"Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous. I was in Hawaii drinking with friends, celebrating our new discoveries… we just won a historian award for dis-" Before I finished my sentence,
The old man cut me off, finishing my sentence. "Discovering an ancient abandoned civilization underground," He clapped a couple of times enthusiastically, his smile and eyes showing visible excitement. He quickly stopped, ducking his head into his open suitcase—the black cords still disturbingly floating connected to whatever was behind the door. I waited patiently as the sound of rapid paper shuffling filled the room before three neatly placed papers clinging onto a clipboard and a pen slid to my side. "These three papers have the answer you seek. Please, read them slowly… and congratulations."
I picked up the clipboard and read the first paper, which detailed our group's private lives, findings, and included photos of the site and excavation zones.
The second page shocked me to my core... Anxiety, fear, and confusion surged through me. The page detailed how I stayed behind, 'guarding' the site while the others went to get news coverage and men to help. It even described how I went back inside the excavation site, stealing certain priceless artifacts, gaining slight injuries, and hiding them within my truck, but it didn't specify what I stole—only that I stole something. "Ho-w did you guys f-find out?" Fear crept in. Was he part of the historical and grace committee?
"Be not afraid, my company does not care what you did, or did not do. But before we continue this conversation, you should probably read the final paper… and the fine print." He looked at me with pity, and I quickly flipped to the last page. The information and pictures made me livid. The date was crossed out, but it went into detail on the reward ceremony and the certificates my colleagues and I earned. It described our trip to Hawaii, dancing, and partying. The pictures showed us having a good time. And in the last bits of the paper, in color, it showed my corpse brutally mangled and hanged via a red tribal war scarf… the one I stole because it looked cool.
My body suddenly felt tired for some reason, yet I kept reading, reaching the fine print…and it was my death certificate. What did I do to deserve such a horrifying end? I never wronged anyone; I always participated and voted based on my principles. I saved many lives by risking my own many times… "Why?" was all I could manage to say. The paper didn't even explain what or why I ended up like that. The old man still looked at me with pity, but I could tell he was angry.
"Well, sport… it wasn't your fault, heck it wasn't even something you could've prevented… take it as the universe flipping you the bird because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all I can tell you." He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, my mind not bothering to register how his arm elongated to pat said shoulder. "Hey, kid, how old are you right now?" the old man asked me this time with a hint of amusement. Amusement I couldn't muster as I had just realized I was dead and I'm in some kind of afterlife, but I answered him anyway. "I just turned thirty-seven not too long ago, and apologies for not asking sooner—but who or what are you?"
The old man smirked, as if he'd been waiting for me to ask that question. "Just call me Accounted, Mr. F." He pulled out two cigarettes, offering me one, but put one away when I declined. Taking a long puff, the old man seemed to relax. "Well, Mr. F., you see, you may or may not have figured out where in the afterlife you are." His confirmation quickly shot down any remaining hope and thoughts I had left on returning home. "Mr. Accounted, may I ask who killed me? I don't think I can rest peacefully without knowing my killer." I asked the first question I wanted to know. Who would have killed me? And why?
Accounted quickly finished his cigarette, placing it within an ashtray he had taken out of his suitcase to snuff the remaining bits out. He then quickly took out three items from his suitcase: a cube, a chessboard, and a red scarf. "I'm sorry, Mr. F., my 'employer' is telling me to keep my mouth shut… but I have a get out of jail free card, so I'll tell you. You died because you successfully completed an ancient ritual…
The accountant stared at me with a serious face as I tried to wrap my head around what he had just said… I died due to a ritual? "What rituals are-" Accounted quickly shushed me by closing his hand. I truly had zero power within here.
"Let me give you a brief rundown of what is happening on my end, Mr. F… I shall put it in short and simple terms that you can understand. You, somehow, in which I don't understand the circumstances myself, completed a ritual that has been running since civilization started to become a thing. All the energy built up was then unleashed when you finished the ritual, but… let's just say in a man's haste to save his dearest wife, he used you as a conduit… and unleashed a wave of energy so huge it destroyed your body, so I'm told by the corporate ladder, and all that energy was used to save his wife." He quickly made a gesture to see if I was following, which, weirdly enough, I was.
"Now, he wants to reward you as a way of apologizing… and to say it wasn't their fault, you would have survived, but someone interfered. Can't say anything more." I wanted to refute, to at least shout or yell in rage, yet nothing came out. My mind finally caught up, telling me to break down. Yet I was still as stone. My achievements, my goals, my kids! My friends, family! My home! The company I built with my own hands, which was shooting into the sky! Was it all for nothing!? All my life, I was played for like a fool! And when everything was looking up, I died in some ancient ritual!? "I know you want to scream, kick, make a scene, but we have zero time left for that. Mind your head," he waved his hand. "Wait, this is going too fast!?" That was all I could blurt out before my body disintegrated within milliseconds, leaving the old man behind, alone.
As the ash slowly settled in the gray room, Accounted looked at the three items lying bare on the metal table. He waited as if to see if anything would change, patiently. Yet, after who knows how long, nothing changed. "I should inform my boss." With a snap of his fingers, everything once again turned to black.