I don't know how it happened, your last thoughts run away from you. The instant your final wheezing breath slips from your lips and the spirit leaves the body is not itself a thought, but a reality, a vision of the rest of life-- not life anymore, but something more eternal and made of stronger stuff than this weak grasping we participate in now. I don't know how I died, but I am certainly dead. The way I know is the feeling. Though I may be able to stand upright next to my lifeless body and look down on it in a cold curiosity, this doesn't assuredly tell me that I'm dead. I am instead certain that my life is over by the feeling which washes over me. It is like a dream but I am hyper aware. Things are spotty and there is an empty dark black full of warmth which fills up the glowing blue figure of my invisible body standing next to the meat that was once me. I am searching around for other ghosts but I don't see any. Odd, I think, I assumed there would be plenty in the afterlife but it seems solitary and empty, almost. As I am looking, without turning my head, as ghosts do not need to move to change position or squint to focus their eyes, I feel a string along my back. It is delicate and light, almost itchy but more of a tickle than anything else. Still, the sensation goes deeper than what I've felt before. In the past I may have felt a sweater run up along my back or a bug crawling down it and it would give me an itch or a tingle. But this is different. The sensation is much crisper, much more real, much more potent like my senses have been dialed up to 11 and I finally know what a
Substack Penitence
Substack Penitence
Substack Penitence
I don't know how it happened, your last thoughts run away from you. The instant your final wheezing breath slips from your lips and the spirit leaves the body is not itself a thought, but a reality, a vision of the rest of life-- not life anymore, but something more eternal and made of stronger stuff than this weak grasping we participate in now. I don't know how I died, but I am certainly dead. The way I know is the feeling. Though I may be able to stand upright next to my lifeless body and look down on it in a cold curiosity, this doesn't assuredly tell me that I'm dead. I am instead certain that my life is over by the feeling which washes over me. It is like a dream but I am hyper aware. Things are spotty and there is an empty dark black full of warmth which fills up the glowing blue figure of my invisible body standing next to the meat that was once me. I am searching around for other ghosts but I don't see any. Odd, I think, I assumed there would be plenty in the afterlife but it seems solitary and empty, almost. As I am looking, without turning my head, as ghosts do not need to move to change position or squint to focus their eyes, I feel a string along my back. It is delicate and light, almost itchy but more of a tickle than anything else. Still, the sensation goes deeper than what I've felt before. In the past I may have felt a sweater run up along my back or a bug crawling down it and it would give me an itch or a tingle. But this is different. The sensation is much crisper, much more real, much more potent like my senses have been dialed up to 11 and I finally know what a