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I am dead. I know this for a fact, for I did it to myself. I took the gun, held it high and then my brains were blown out. Even in the afterlife I have a horrible headache. But here, in Limbo as they (the other dead people) like to call it, we have different color skins. Now I know what you’re all thinking, ‘we have that while we’re alive too!’ but you’ve misinterpreted my words. I am purple or violet, if you want specification. Others are green, blue, red, ect ect. Some are colors you wouldn’t have even thought possible.
Being dead isn’t all that bad though, not really anyway. Though I’d love to be alive once more death is just like it. Only there are a lot more people. We also don’t have names, we don’t need them, though I loved the name I used to be called, Lila, it still rings through my head daily, as if I need reminding. We all talk to each other through our minds. We have become more advanced in our deaths, creating something like talking. Though it’s only for one or more specific persons to hear.
We, the dead, dislike being called ghosts. Nor do we like to be call ‘spirits’. It just doesn’t suit us as well as you, the living, think it does. In truth we’d just to be called, the other-siders. To us that’s all we seem to be, the other side of you. Please do not take it into offense as I say this, but you living people have so much to learn about everything. Even though I was no older then sixteen, I am now as old as my grandparents were. Though you wouldn’t be able to tell, for we do not age. It will take at least a millennium to show even a year worth of change. But a millennium is not as long as it is here as it is there. For the time has differences, as; one day here: 3 years here. 7 hours there: one year here. It is all too mathematically advanced for even me to understand.
But this isn’t something for you to learn from, not in the way you’re thinking anyway. You’ll surely learn something but I won’t tell you like this. No. I will tell you of a journey I took. You see the tree of life, it exists here, and it is something you can touch, see, and even taste if you wish. The leaves tell a single persons life story. And once the leaf hit the ground, you die. Suicides, like me, forcibly take their leaves off. For when they are un-conscious they appear in the tree. Their own leaf in hand, shinning a great color, then they, drop it to the ground below. Extinguishing the light within the leaf and your soul.
In any case if you do not drop it then you may be saved, or, so I have heard. According to legend when you cant decide what to do with the leaf of your life then a man or woman will appear. They are different every time. Some say they are angels for who ever meets them never dies then. They wait for the appropriate time, and the ‘angel’ re-attaches the leaf for them. But as I’ve said it’s only a legend. In my opinion it’s just bull. Believe what you wish, though I advise you not to practice this.
I’ve walked to the tree of life before, and it was marvelous, the leaves shine above you. The actual tree was enormous but inviting. Though you are not permitted past a certain area I crossed the barrier. That’s the story you’ll hear, if you wish to learn more about death itself, go find another out-sider willing to tell you.
I first learned about the Tree of Life both by legend while I was alive, and by my good friend here in Limbo. She told me there was a map and only very few could even figure this map out.
‘A puzzle it is dear Lila! It’s plays with your head.’
She had tried a many of times but alas she could never understand the map. I thought it was hopeless for me to try but she urged me to give it a go. It shone like the lights of heaven itself. It was a plate of different signs, my hand moved as if it was its own, moving the different signs to connect to each other. The plate split in two. Causing me to cry out in surprise, yet no one came to my aid. I was alone in a different place. Almost as if I was in space but some place even more fantastic. There was no ground yet everything was resting on something. The plate in my hands began to shake, both pieces tore away from my grasp.
The map pieces flew above my head, hovering in front of me. They only hovered for a few moments before combusting into flames. The flames had consumed my body in only seconds though it didn’t hurt I didn’t know what to do. So I stop dropped and rolled, now as silly as it seems that’s what seemed to make sense in my 73 year old soul. And it worked. The flames vanished, leaving charred marks on my lovely purple skin. Then ground fell out from under me then, like a trap door opening. And I fell into oblivion.
I didn’t fall long, maybe a year or two there in the world of the living, but here it was only a few hours. I crashed onto a plush surface, like a pillow or a sponge. The surface I was laying on began to collapse on top of me, almost as if it were consuming me. The strange thing is, I could feel it trying to devour me, and I was in immense pain. It seemed to go on for hours, perhaps weeks in my time zone. But eventually I realized what I was laying in, and I had to get out of it. I began to struggle to fight with it. I fought to what I thought was the surface. And not only was I right about it being the surface I was right about what the ‘surface’ was. It was dead people’s leaves.
I climbed out cautiously and made my way over to the tree of life as fast as I could. I gripped the bark and began to climb. It was easier then even I thought it was going to be. It wasn’t long before I hit the first branches but I didn’t want the easy ones, I went up to the middle before I rested. You see the most talented people are at the very top, the famous authors, the singers, the actors, even the artists are up at the top. But the status quos will be changed from time to time. I glanced through the leaves as I began to climb once more. They all shone so brightly and each was full of colors that were forever changing.
Except for one leaf. It was heart shaped and it didn’t shine oh so bright. I peered inside the leaf to get a glimpse of this person’s life. It was a young boy, most likely around my age. His name was Cole he was so full of talent but, he seemed to be un-sure about it. He was in the under-brush of nobodies. I wanted to help him, he needed to dream big. That’s something I never did while I was alive, I saw things as they were instead of what they could’ve been. I leaned in close to the leaf and whispered, “Be someone.” Almost as if he heard me, I had seen him as he grabs a piece of paper and begins to write. As I set the leaf back though it disappeared in my grasp, and for a moment I was afraid I had dropped it and he would be dead. I scrambled down the tree as fast as I could. I didn’t see any new leaves though. I looked back up to the top of the tree and I seen this spectacular glow illuminating the top. I smile to myself thinking about how Cole will be someone he never even imagined he could be.
The days seem to run together now, nothing will give me as great of a joy as helping Cole did. Unfortunately living people have become afraid to become someone they didn’t think they were meant to be. They’ve forgotten how to be themselves to grow into someone. And though I am dead, can talk through my mind, and I am far more advanced I still need to grow into my someone. For that is why almost no one in Limbo moves on. Not until the full extent of life is fulfilled, which is why I’m writing this. I’m hoping that this will complete me. If it does not, then I hope you enjoyed reading about my other worldly adventure.