I've always pondered the nature of death. Why were humans afraid of something that didn't exist? It exists only when someone dies, but that means no one has ever truly known it. They've only heard of it, relating stories of the dead to others until those stories reached us. Truth be told, I was never afraid of it. Since the day I was born, I sensed something was wrong, yet it was beyond my power to change it. I've grown bored of this lazy world and its dwellers. It's the same things over and over, circling in an endless loop. What am I supposed to do? Hell if I know! I don't care anymore. It's futile to care. To care is to bear the pain that comes with it. No care, no pain!
I've tried throwing myself from the bridge many times, but something always held me back, like a rope attached to the center of my back. I felt like a doll moving on its master's commands. It appeared to be fear, and the clinging desire for life, that made me a coward. But I don't want to exist in this world—it's as if the world and I are orbiting the center of the universe in opposite directions.
Humans are notorious for wishing more and more, often for things that remain unrealized. However, I don't think mine is hard. It's the simple wish of a simple man who wants his story to reach the final chapter before the due time. Is that so hard? By doing so, I'd be offering the world a favor. Minus one, minus a problem, right? I thought humans were unlimitedly free, but I can see we aren't. No way we are. If I can't choose the best time and place to die, then we are still severely limited.
Do you know it? The mental state of being overwhelmed by excessive thoughts, reasonings, or internal dialogue? It's called Tantanoia. It's like living a nightmare while you're aware of it until your wires are broken. Thinking, thinking, and thinking is cumbersome. And the only way to end this uncalled suffering is through death; it is the ultimate salvation. I wish I could perish from this existence. I wish I could vanish like a nucleus—the limit of all living things. Do I need to suffer even in my death? Do I need to work really hard to die? How laughable! Even death is expensive.
I feel like a guest of this host called Planet Earth, constantly being picked at. Living in a family doomed from the start to be a failed project was the worst thing I could have experienced. Seeing your family torn apart like a spider's web was the other horrible thing. Humans are selfish in their own ways. It's not that I didn't know it; I was just trying to find an excuse to feed my naive brain. But I couldn't.
I've made up my mind: today will be my last day on earth. I swear it on this infernal life I am experiencing now, and on her! I have the perfect place for a memorable exit—not that I want people to remember ; it's just like leaving a parting gift to the world that brought me no gift at all these seventeen years.
Farewell, world and its inhabitants!
Almost willing to jump from the rooftop, I sensed a cozy breeze that made me want to sleep for eternity. Suddenly, I felt the ground moving back and forth. "What! Is it? An earthquake?"
The building started to shake. Before I could make sense of what happened, my hands reached for the iron bar, and I clung to it. I hopped to the other side of the building and opened the door, checking for damage or blockage. I began descending the stairs as calmly and swiftly as possible, avoiding elevators and unstable structures. I heard the screams and crying of terrified children and my neighbors.
On my route to my apartment, I heard someone asking for help desperately. "What? Who? It's... It's too late. I have to run for my life; I want to live. Damn it! I want to die, but…my body wants to live ." After much consideration, I convinced myself to give my life to the rescue of others, and when everything was calm, I would finish what I started.
I scanned the place. It was the third floor. Only three apartments were occupied. I tracked down the voice. I found it, yet, to my dismay, the door was blocked by heavy debris, the kind that is hard to pull or push. I'm not an expert, but I've seen many films about catastrophes and acting. I can manage. I have to manage to achieve my ultimate goal.
I called, "Is there anyone here? The door is..."
A female voice replied, "Help us, we... can't breathe! I have two kids!"
"Look, the door is trapped. I can't pull the rock. Ahh, I got it. I will bring something and break the door. Okay. Stay with me!" I assured her.
Off I went, searching for something sharp and strong, like a hammer or the like. I couldn't find any. "Damn it, nothing! Where are hammers when you need them?" Before I lost hope, an idea popped into my mind: a fire extinguisher will do the job. I remembered seeing one on the rooftop, so I made haste.
I barely managed to find it after being targeted twice by hard collapsing debris. I took it and headed back to where the woman was.
When I reached the door, I called loudly but in vain. I started breaking the door. The problem was that one of the pillars had fallen on the door, making it impossible to open in either direction. Tapping the top left, I could tell we might make a passage there to evacuate the mom and her children.
A whitish cloud of dust found its way out of the narrow passage. Hopefully, it works. I called again, yet to no avail. I jumped in and immediately started coughing, as it was very hard to breathe.
I spotted the mother; one of her legs was stuck. "It's okay. I am here. Your children? Where is your husband?" I asked. She seemed overwhelmed and traumatised. I scanned the space, searching for the children.
"Ahm, ahm, they...are...in...the kitchen. Beneath... the table," she forced out.
I headed to the kitchen. To my astonishment, I found a huge hole in the ground.
"Holy shit, it's a fucking hole." I could see the arm of one of the children. I could jump to the other side. The real problem: how could I bring them back?
"Maybe we can put something on the ground, or maybe I can throw them. No, that's immoral," I thought, unable to think of a better way.
I jumped and fetched a clothesline rope. Though it wasn't that reliable, there was no substitute. I made sure the rope was tied well. When I went to take the children, they were all quiet, not a tear on their faces; they were broken down. I couldn't blame them. I asked their names but got no reply.
They were twins. I clutched the girl's hand and took her to the rope. I told her what to do; no response. They were completely spent.
I yelled at them, "Do you wanna die?! Come on, on the other side, you'll find your mama. Come on, hurry up!!"
The girl started crying. Suddenly, there was another shaky wave, which triggered some collapsed rocks to fall. I took their hands, and I tried the immoral way:
throwing them like meatballs. Thankfully, they were young and slim. I could manage that. There goes one, and there goes two.
Now, it was my turn. I was ready to jump when the huge hole became a chasm. "What the fuck is this? It's too deep," I muttered.
My eyes fell on the rope I tied. I took it and swayed myself a bit, though I wasn't sure if it would work. With some magic, I managed to put my left foot barely on an iron bar in the ground. I struggled, but finally landed.
I caught my breath and took the children. When their mother saw them, she started sobbing. It was a horrible scene. I had to free her stuck leg. "It's okay, madam. I will find a way," I said.
She tried to stand still but failed. "Please...take...them away! I am done. I can't...move. My...ribs are...broken," she insisted.
I looked at her and, unexpectedly, said, "No way. No. I will help you stand. Here, take my shoulder". She pushed me down, and I fell because I was exhausted.
Before I could get up, the building shook again, and the place began falling apart. She stretched out her hand and took mine. "Promise...me..." I think that was her last breath.
I gritted my lips in regret and shamelessness.
"Damn. If only..." I took the children, who didn't know their mother was dead. I helped them out. I was obstructed by many thoughts, yet I couldn't allow any hesitation.
Now, we were on the second floor. Two floors to the outside. I met others who were still evacuating. They were all hopeless and desperate to do the one thing I couldn't do: living. Living for a little bit longer. I saw a father embracing his wife and daughter; they all seemed happy to be well and together. And for the first time, I felt as if I had accomplished something, and it felt good.
I want to save more people. I want to be better than the world is. I want to offer them a chance to live longer to see their beloved ones.
On my way to the first floor, I heard the voice of a cat, meowing as if asking for help. I guided the children to the first floor, and I returned to save another life.
While ascending the ladder, a third wave occurred; the building shook, and fire ignited out of nowhere. "I have to save it," I reminded myself not to cower. I tracked the voice and found the cat.
"It's easy. I can make it," I thought, but the deal wasn't that simple. Fire was everywhere. I wasn't immune to fire, nor did I have some magical power to bend it. But I will do it. Do it till you make it!
I put a wet rag on my body and forced my way in through the fire like a bolt while screaming, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. Now or never".
"It really hurts. Smoke—fucking choking," I gasped. I spotted the cat, trapped in her own domestic cage. I freed her; she ran away. "Thank you for the help, boy!" that's what I was expecting—something like 'mewoow!"
Anyway, I hoped the way I came in would be the way I came out. I have seen many worse scenarios ever, but all they shared something funny and agreeable. But mine was all too miserable. Now, I was trapped inside a low-rent apartment because Mother Nature was a little bit distressed.
I had enough of smoke; I could barely breathe. I felt my body becoming numb, and my eyes struggled to stay open. I was now experiencing what people call a life review, when your life flashes before your eyes. I remembered those good moments I couldn't have enough of and wished to experience again.
I truly was hopeless and almost resigned myself to my inevitable fate: being devoured by the ravenous fire! For the first time, I want to live. I don't want to die. I want to enjoy life like everyone else. I want to see the world. I feel regret for wasting time on trying to die. I started weeping like a crybaby.
I screamed in desperation,
"I want another chance!"
My eyes were falling, and I felt everything was now black.
"Damn it! Damn it! It's not fair!"
Suddenly, a blinding light pierces my eyes. It feels as though I've been inside a long, dark tunnel — cold, lonely, endless — and now I've emerged from it. The darkness is gone; the light is warm.
Wait. Wait. Wait. WAAIIIIIIT!
I thought I died?!
Why do I feel so numb? I can't even control my body.
When I open my eyes, I see unfamiliar faces crowding around me, like moons orbiting a planet. A woman with silky blonde hair embraces me and softly whispers endearments. A man, broad-shouldered and strong, beams with joy as he takes my tiny hand in his.
Wait.
Why is my hand so small? So fragile?
No way. Seriously? Unbelievable. Not even in a million years—
I've been… reincarnated as a baby.
Haaah. Fate? Or just chance?
The woman holding me—she must be my mother. And the man making goofy, overexcited faces must be my father. Which makes me… their infant.
Miraculous!
I start crying, and my—yes, my mother—breastfeeds me.
Mmm. Delectable. So this is what mother's milk tastes like. Not that I'm a pervert; it's just surreal to experience something you missed the first time around.
After I calm down, a refined-looking nurse comes and carries me to my bed. I cry again—this time not from hunger but from gratitude.
Thank you, whoever gave me this chance.
I swear I won't waste it. I'm truly indebted.
I reminisce about the old days—ahhh—and suddenly feel drowsy after my meal. I really missed this kind of luxury. Anyway… I'll take a nap now.
Ah, right. I almost forgot: I think I've been reincarnated as a farmer's son in mediaeval times.