WHAM!
A mushy pound of folds of flesh crash-lands on me, knocking me senseless to the floor like a ragdoll. She is soft, all right, but momentum has no clear definition with respect to softness or hardness of the body.
'Why chuck a woman at me, God?' I think dully, feeling a sharp sudden pain settle into my entire body, convoluting my muscles and igniting flitting spasms deep within. 'It's not like I believe in you!'
With a start, I realize a very familiar sensation, somewhere along my neck. The feeling of cold steel nestled in your bloodstream, its frigidity contrasting with the inner body heat.
'Shit, she stabbed me…but why? I can't fathom a reason for that, isn't the squashing enough to kill me?' I think dully, wincing in annoyance.
But why? What did I do to Ms. Jane to deserve such a webnovel-like end? I can almost swear she got the idea from a book, (I just can't prove it either) but what's up with the double suicide?
Did she catch me cheating? No, I met Ruth far before she even actually noticed me. Maybe she found out?
My breath begins to shudder, growing more ragged and faint. I try to suck in air, but can't keep it in; it flows out of my open throat with a whistle.
I can't feel my legs, arms nor torso. Seems like I've lost all sort of nervous coordination too, or they've been squashed to a mash of blood, flesh and bone too.
People begin to gather around, some bunch of teenagers are screaming on the top of their voices. With my fading eyesight, I espy my colleagues rushing out of the door, eyes widened, mouths dropped ajar, too shocked to even speak. A few hide their face behind their palms, shielding their eyes from this gory sight.
I must look a mess though. Imagine being squashed by a 300kg weight…I must look like a pan cake now.
So this is how I die?
Faces and past events blur past in my mind, halting at some point so that I can identify it, before streaking past again. With each smile or scowl I see, I feel my long buried emotions, even the ones I didn't know I still had, resurfaces.
My aged parents' faces swim into blurry focus, their senile smiles wiping my scowl off, as they pat a worker on his head in my very presence, mistaking him for me. I can't even muster a sad reminiscent smile at that instant. I only hope one of my siblings will come to his senses and take over from where I stopped.
Soon after, I see my siblings, all bearing frowns of varying degrees. I still hate them no less, but I'll miss the little sadistic games we pitched against each other back then.
I also see Lin and the others. The ones I saw as real brothers. After I ran away from home at 7, fed up with my siblings, I'd met them. We all had more or less similar experiences; all related to fraternal conflicts. We'd grown up together on the streets, the alleys our only shelter. We saw ourselves as blood brothers and sisters, even erotic feelings didn't surface that much.
Alas, by nineteen, I'd been left all alone, having lost them all to one misfortune or the other. Each time it happened, I cursed God for keeping me alive. Nothing changed. Each time, another would die, taking a bullet meant for me perhaps, and then dying in my arms.
After Lin's death (he was the last of them), I returned to my parents and they accepted me with open arms. But I never changed. I knew they loved me, but I closed my heart to their affection. They helped me restart my life, and just when I was beginning to return their affection, this shit happens.
I'm sure of it now, there's no God. Otherwise, he can't just sit by, sipping some heavenly wine up there, watching people suffer below. If he's really like that, nothing sets him apart from the devil.
My eyelids begin to close. A broken chuckle slips out from a distorted throat, as I recall one of Lin and I's promises to each other.
"As it turns out, Lin," I mumble with difficulty, each word articulated with a gurgle of blood and an excruciating heave, "I couldn't keep my promise either."
I hear the sirens of the ambulance, and a chuckle slips out.
'They're already too late to help anyone. Jane should be dead and I'm beyond saving already' I remark bitterly, amazed at my steady tone.
So much for living a hectic-free life. Who would have guessed Jane would be my end? I thought playing ladies had no real repercussions attached.
I take back my words; yanderes are not sweet people. Stay away at all cost.
If I'd foreseen this coming, I would have killed Jane a long time ago.
In the midst of all my thoughts, I feel something approaching. Dark, morbid and ominous, not just a presence but an entity.
'Well God, if you're indeed there, grant my siblings some success. Maybe they'll remember mom and dad…'
While I'm still praying, darkness claims me.
A few seconds later, my eyelids snap open again. My eyes adjust to the gloom immediately, and I grasp everything.
"Fuck," I would have facepalmed myself I had arms. This scene is a bit too familiar.
But why me?
I float eerily in some huge vacant space, drifting around. I'm just a plasmid speck, having no clearly defined outline. Don't even get started on body parts.
Suddenly, some bright light flares into existence, right in front of me. I don't know how it came to be, but I shield my face from it with imaginary hands, blinking rapidly.
In front of me, stretched wide and long bizarrely, is an opaque image. A familiar book cover.
I will my body to drift backwards, and to my surprise, it works. I 'flow' backwards, until I'm far enough to read the large curly words in glossy green print, splashed diagonally across the entire length of the image, leaving a little space at the top left for the author's name and Webnovel watermark.
There's virtually no space to display what the image actually displayed. I roll my eyes again, annoyed by this. Even in death, it haunts me!
You should realize by now, it's the same old book.
Now, quick question…why's it here? Of all places, my judgment grounds?
What if it might be used to judge me?
I lift my nonexistent shoulders in a shrug. I'm not remotely worried. I don't even need to reason with whoever the judge is, I'll just prescribe the book and he'd see for himself.
'After all, that's what here should be. Now where's God?' I cast my gaze around, finding nothing but an endless spread of nothing.
As I find out later on, I'm partly right, but also erroneously wrong. I mean, it's about the book, but I didn't even get to reason with the judge.
I think 'A divine judge won't be interested in earthly books…'
It turned back to be an accurate prophecy, only that it came in uno-reverse style.
There's one thing I've grown to dislike about gods. They may have different traits across different literal dimensions, but they all bear the same biased thinking; they're never wrong.
Just as I continue to examine the book cover, noting smaller details I've never noticed, a voice reverberates through, forming almost visible sonic ripples, crashing into me like a nuclear bomb.
It's loud and rumbling, identical to a mix between cannon blast, booming thunder and scraping metal on the rock. Just akin to the kind of voices you'd hear at an audition for a villain's role in a children movie, only that this one came from a god.
A sonic boom from this could shatter Earth with relative ease. If I still had a body, I would have disintegrated.
It echoes, so I imagine that this void I'm in does have boundaries.
It drips with unimaginable cruelty, and I immediately envisage a maddened face. If this my judge, then I'm done for.
My imaginary heart trembles, pulse quickened, plasmid body threatened to disintegrate. If I had pores, I would have sweated as well.
I begin a quick rundown of my life, trying to see what aspect I had been so wrong. I was an atheist, so I'm neutral. I shouldn't be on the bad side of any gods.
So this is the power of a god?
Every writer I've ever read failed utterly in their description. I don't blame them; this feeling couldn't be put into words.
It calls again:
"Come, Askin Halvek Ashborn!"
Prepared this time, I endure the effects of the rumbling quite better. But there's something else.
I recognize the name at once. That's the name of the MC in this novel. Although, I don't remember him been called Ashborn.
I look around, expecting to see a second figure, swimming alongside me.
Nothing. I'm still alone.
Maybe he's taking a bit too long? Whoever is been summoned?
'Fuck! Why me!' I grumble inwardly, understanding this scenario perfectly. Maybe I don't just want to believe it yet. I just never imagined my life would be part of a twist-of-fate typical webnovel cliché.
We all know this too well; someone dies tragically, and as compensation, a divine being reincarnates him into a different world; one that borders on magic, cultivation or some other sort of fantasy.
One thing is nearly synonymous with all this stories; the MC always want these alterations, due to different reasons, maybe living a boring or miserable life. Or maybe the MC may be tailored by the author to mirror the very depth of human depression, then he struggles to overcome them in admirable or detestable ways. Either way, some reader's bound to like it.
My point? I'm perfectly happy with my life and death even, so I don't see why I should belong to that category of MCs who should be reincarnated or transmigrated.
The voice calls again, this time impatiently. This time he adds a new name, something I can't hear well, but I discern two syllables "Hoja".
Why does it sound so familiar? The word, not the voice, I mean?
Well, I should answer him quickly. I've learned from the experiences of different fictional MCs that gods could be very impatient. Perhaps, they can reincarnate you into a mosquito if they're angry enough.
I realize that I've not tried speaking since I 'arrived' here. I don't even know if I have a mouth, and I don't have hands to feel for that either.
I try to answer. "Yes?" a tender childlike voice slips out from somewhere, reeking of fear and childlike innocence, not even loud enough to echo.
'That's not my voice,' I think angrily, but I don't dare speak again, to prevent further embarrassment. That god could be the one engineering it, and I don't relish the idea of making him even angrier.
What if he's a pervert who likes children? Maybe he would reincarnate me into a girl and-
I almost drift apart at the thought. Internally, I do the sign of the Cross.
"Hail Mary, full of Grace…." The words come back to me and I recite them fervently. I don't even know how I knew them, I never saw the doors to a church throughout my lifetime, even though my parents were deadass religious.
Well, that's how stubborn I was.
But jokes aside, I believe in God now. It's never too late, is it?
Suddenly, I notice a sharp glint of light from afar, streaking towards me at an almost whistling speed. I close my eyes bracing for impact. Running is meaningless. I don't have a rough sketch of distance here, but that comet covered more than a hundred million kilometers in a second, I'm sure.
SLAM!!!