I hated my life. I found no joy in living nowadays; the same routine lingering through every second, minute, hour, day, and week.
It has become common for me to wake up in the morning and contemplate why I was alive. It was the most essential part of starting my day. The answer always came back the same:
"I dunno."
I never saw it as a bad thing. I had no reason to keep living. Though I found no reason to end my life either.
I was still relatively young, only 29. I had my own apartment and a pretty nice car. Things weren't necessarily bad.
I'd go to work like many others, appease my boss, and get along well with my colleagues. I'd leave and get lunch with this one girl at work who seemed to be in the same chokehold life had put me in.
I'd finish my work, hop into my car and head home, play games until I was bored, and if I felt truly free, recklessly spend money on in-game currencies. Afterwards, I'd go to sleep at 12 PM and make sure I was ready for the upcoming day.
This had been my life for the past few years. The only difference was the ladies and the income.
Yet, I couldn't recall the last time something brought me true joy.
I often thought of my sister late at night.
She was like my second half as a child, but for some reason, the universe decided that killing her off with a minuscule flu would be the torment she deserved.
Soon after my sister's death, my mother passed away in her sleep, leaving me to handle things alone.
The only thing I truly had left of my family was a jar of my sister and mother mixed together like a shitty mess of kinetic sand.
In fact, it was right next to me. Whenever I slept, I made sure it was. It brought me some peace knowing that one day I'd be with them.
Checking my phone, the time was already 11:05.
I needed to sleep.
________________________________________
I woke up again.
Sitting upright, I stared at my wall and wondered if I should go to work today. Probably not.
Yet for some reason, I couldn't control my body. I got up and silently went to the bathroom. It hadn't even hit me that I hadn't had my daily midlife crisis until I was brushing my teeth.
'Maybe this is a good sign.' I thought.
Getting ready and finishing up with my breakfast, I hopped into my car and headed to work.
I liked to sit in silence on my drives; the music often covered up whatever thoughts I had. It was interesting how many thoughts I could have while doing such a mundane task. I'd often come up with million-dollar ideas whilst driving.
Arriving at my work firm, I opened the front door and greeted the morning shift secretary, Marissa.
"Hello Marissa, how are you today?" I asked with the warm, friendly smile I was long accustomed to wearing, and quickly took out my ID for her to scan.
"Ahh, it's going great, Paul! I recently got a raise! It's motivated me to work a little harder!" She smiled warmly back. If I hadn't been working here for so many years, perhaps I would have encouraged her further, but whatever motivation she had wouldn't last long.
After all, how much harder could an extra $0.65 make someone work?
"That's good to hear. Don't use all that money in one place, hahaha." Taking my ID back, I walked away and entered the elevator.
Upon arriving on the 5th floor, I saw many of my colleagues already working.
Most of us were all decent friends, but it had become routine not to greet each other unless it felt necessary. Most of us had worked here for years and could count how many pimples we each had by sheer memory. There was no need for pleasantries.
Sitting down in my cubicle, I turned my monitor on and got to work.
Documents, signings, new customer leads, payment errors, and file corruption. All these things were my portion of work.
I just fixed problems; I didn't complain.
Before I even knew it, I had settled into my comfortable daily schedule. Time passed quickly while I was working until my partner, Steven, asked if I wanted to grab a coffee.
He was an Asian senior who had shown me the ropes when I first got the job.
Asking each other for coffee had also become part of our daily schedule; I couldn't say no.
Leaving the building and heading to the nearest Starbucks, Steven and I ordered our regulars and sat down to enjoy our drinks.
We often spoke minimally; after all, there wasn't much to talk about besides the news or unimportant topics.
Steven had initially talked about his family, but seeing that I neither responded nor seemed keen to talk about my own, he dropped the topic entirely. Our bond had solidified over the simple need for a presence whilst we drank our coffees.
I was in the middle of taking another sip and entertaining my own thoughts before I heard Steven speak up.
"Hey.. I just got engaged to my girlfriend Kate yesterday. Just thought I'd let you know. The wedding should be in a few months if you'd like to come," he said, sipping his coffee.
Looking up at him, he didn't seem to think much about what he said, drinking his coffee, looking out the window as he spoke.
Following his gaze, I thought for a moment as I watched people pass the window, indulging in their own lives.
"I'll pass. But thanks for asking." I didn't want to be rude, but I couldn't bring myself to care about his wedding.
My life already felt like a burden. Going to watch some lovebirds make out on a podium didn't tickle any of my fancies
"That's fine. I didn't expect you to say yes, honestly." With his words, the table returned to calm silence, the only sounds around us being the murmurs of people, the footsteps of customers, and the occasional sip Steven took across from me.
"You know, one day you'll have to find a wife too, Paul. I know you're talking to that one girl, but if you ever need help, I've got some friends… You shouldn't be a bachelor forever." He looked me in the eyes as he spoke this time. The firmness in his tone stopped me halfway through a sip of my coffee.
"Hahaha, yeah, you're right." I laughed before he even finished the sentence.
"Can't be a bachelor forever!"
Steven looked at me for a moment longer than necessary. Like he was checking if I meant it.
Then, nodding his head, he abruptly stood up and shook his cup. "I'm finished.. I'll be heading out now. I'll see you later."
"Yeah… I'll see you later." Watching as Steven threw his trash away and silently left the building, a bitter feeling rose in my chest.
Chugging my coffee, I set the emotions aside, crunched the cup, and threw it at the trash can. I had missed it, but couldn't be bothered to go pick it up.
The rest of the day continued as usual.
I went back to work, finished my assignments, and soon it was time to clock out.
On my way out, the girl from yesterday had asked me if I wanted to get a drink, but for some reason, even the prospect of having sex with a nice-looking girl didn't excite me.
I didn't even want to speak to her.
Simply ignoring her presence, I headed for the exit.
________________________________________
Leaving the building, I silently entered my car.
I sat there for a moment without starting the engine.
I wasn't in a foul mood, exactly. I wasn't in much of a mood at all. That was closer to the truth.
Instead, I thought about the jar on my nightstand.
I thought about waking up tomorrow and looking at it again. Then the day after. Then the one after that.
I started the engine.
I didn't drive home. I knew the route I was taking before I had consciously decided to take it.
I had looked up the building a few weeks ago, late at night, although I didn't think the information would come in handy so soon.
It wasn't far.
Finishing work late, I found the streets were often quiet at this time. Rolling down my window, I allowed that silence in; it helped my thoughts simmer a bit.
Driving slowly, just the road and the low hum of the engine were present.
Arriving at an old hotel complex, I parked and sat in the car for a moment.
Nothing stirred within me; I felt extremely calm for some reason.
Accepting that calm for a moment, I got out of the car.
The building had been abandoned; it was probably going to be demolished soon. Luckily for me, someone had been scoping this place out too, breaking most of the main locks.
The stairwell door was also unlocked, the same as the last time I had checked two weeks ago, when I had some free time and walked through it just to walk through it.
Just to see.
I started climbing.
It was quiet in the stairwell. Just my footsteps and the faint hum of the building's systems, and the occasional distant sound from outside filtering through the walls. I didn't count the floors. I just climbed.
I thought about my sister.
She used to collect things.
Small things, like bottle caps, weird rocks, I remember there was this specific marble she had found in a park when she was seven and kept for years afterward.
I could still picture her holding it up to the light, turning it slowly. She had been like that about most weird things.
I couldn't remember the last time I had felt that way about something.
I thought about my mother. The way she spoke my name after Tina's death, tired, but still with hope.
The smell of our old house's kitchen on Sundays. That house had long been sold, and I was already beginning to forget how mother's meals tasted.
I thought briefly about whether there was anyone who still loved me.
I turned it over carefully. I wanted to be fair and honest about it.
The answer, at the end of it, was no.
So I kept climbing.
________________________________________
The roof door opened with a push.
The air hit me first, up so high, the gusts were strong and cool. Much different from the streets. I walked forward slowly.
Stepping near the edge, I looked down.
If I were right, the building was about 50 feet tall, nothing grand, but enough.
Perhaps, as I looked down at the cars and houses shrunken down to objects I could fit in my hand, what I was doing finally began to settle in.
My heart began to beat louder and louder, and a cold sweat ran down my back.
I stood there and experienced those feelings wholly.
The wind moved against my face, blowing my hair back furiously; the longer I looked down, the stronger I could feel my own pulse in my throat.
So I looked away.
And looked up.
The sky above the city was dark, almost entirely pitch black. I could see each star shining vividly throughout the sky.
More than usual.
More than I could remember seeing in a long time, maybe because I hadn't looked in a long time, maybe because tonight the conditions were right for it.
I stood there and looked at them.
I don't know how long.
Somewhere in that time, something loosened a little.
On that edge, I thought of my sister. I thought of my mother and everything she did for me. I thought of Steven's face when he said, "You can't be alone forever", the way he meant it kindly.
I thought of the remains of my family waiting by my nightstand.
I thought about who would take it.
I thought about the colleagues who would find out on a Tuesday, probably, and what they would say to each other in the break room. I thought about Marissa scanning someone else's ID and maybe being told, in passing.
I took a breath in.
The air tasted clean up here. Cleaner than I expected.
I smiled. Something about the stars, something about the night — it was a beautiful night.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
I wasn't sure who I was sorry to, perhaps the people I had let down, or the people I would soon let down.
Then I stopped thinking and let go.
________________________________________
The descent was slow. I had closed my eyes, afraid of the impact.
But falling, realizing my death was imminent, I felt a tinge of regret.
Perhaps I could have found love like Steven said, maybe get married, have kids...
But it was too late now.
Before I could conclude the thought, a sudden wave of impact struck me at every inch of my body.
I couldn't grasp what had happened before everything went dark.
________________________________________
...
...
...
Am I dead? Wait, how can I still think?
I remembered vividly how I fell off that building, the flash of concrete closing in on me before I closed my eyes.
Yet somehow, focusing on my body, there was no pain I could identify.
Opening my eyes, I realized I was lying on my back, against something between softness and solidness.
The same starry night sky I had seen before appeared clearly before me.
For a moment, I doubted whether I had even fallen off the building... Perhaps I had merely deluded myself and slept on the roof?
But that thought was cut off instantly by the image of a floating eyeball far off in the distance.
Where the moon should have been, a huge eyeball with a golden iris with a red vertical line directly through the middle stared directly at me.
'What...?' Refusing to break eye contact, I slowly lifted myself to my feet. How I could even stand was something I couldn't understand, but I had a bigger problem at hand.
I stood there for a moment holding my sight on the massive floating eye before I quickly snapped away.
Snapping back, the eye hadn't moved.
'Good.. Maybe I've been playing too many games' I thought, scared it's moving while I wasn't watching.
With a hint of confidence, I forced my eyes away from it and looked around me.
However, the next thing I saw was even more surprising; behind me was a line.
Not a short one.
It stretched far enough that the end of it dissolved into a distant horizon. If I had to explain it, it felt like a cartoonishly Long line stretching for miles.
Yet somehow I could see it all clearly.
At the very front of the line stood what looked like one of those old-school movie theatre ticket booths, small, with a single glass pane to reveal the person inside.
A stickman... In the most literal sense, a 2D stickman was inside the booth, stamping things at a pace that didn't seem physically possible.
I looked around again, and it seemed I was at the back of whatever this line was.
'Is this Hell?' The things I had seen in such a short span made me think so, after all, this dark place, with a floating eyeball, didn't scream heavenly.
Focusing back on the line, I inspected the creature directly in front of me.
It had too many legs and a body similar to Squidward's, but purple, with arms that seemed to move on their own. It wasn't doing anything. Just waiting, the same as everyone else.
In one of its many hands, something caught my interest, loosely held in its jelly-like limb was a golden ticket.
In contrast to its purple skin, the ticket shone brightly, with a sort of iridescent shade to it
Instinctively, I looked down at my own hand.
My fist was clenched.
So I opened it slowly.
A golden ticket unfolded in my own palm, slightly crumpled at the edges. It generated its own light, humming with a golden glow.
My name was written in its centre.
Paul Ansen
I stared at it for a moment. Then looked back up at the line.
'Right,' I thought. 'Okay.'
HONK HONK
Suddenly, a sound detonated directly inside my head.
Hello, Afterpartees, welcome to Death!
We apologize for the intrusion, but please remember to keep your admission on your person at all times.
Trafficking, theft, duplication, consumption, and unauthorized redistribution of admissions remain strictly prohibited under Death Administration guidelines.
If an Afterpartee is discovered without a valid admission, they will be promptly removed.
Please report suspicious activity to your nearest attendant.
Thank you for dying with us.
The voice was cheerful in a way that felt slightly childish, like a PA announcement at an amusement park.
"Trafficking?"
The voice seemed to have already moved on despite my question.
I looked at the ticket again, then carefully folded my hand back around it.
Whatever this was, losing it seemed like a bad idea.
I waited in line. Time moved strangely here, not slow exactly, more like it had stopped caring about being consistent. At some point, I reached the front. The figure in the booth was the same two-dimensional stickman I had been watching throughout my process, to the end of the line
Before I could speak, it held out a slim stick arm in the small gap of its booth.
"TICKET PLEASE."
Looking at the circle that was its face, I hesitated on whether I could speak to it, but decided to slowly unfold my hand and simply show it my ticket.
The stickman's arm suddenly elongated and took the ticket from my hand without any fingers to hold it.
Stretching the ticket flat with both limbs, it examined it for a long moment, then handed it back and gestured toward a tent beside it.
Staring at it for a moment, I walked through.
Inside, it was dark except for a faint glow coming from directly ahead.
Walking towards that glow, I saw what looked like a young boy sitting on a marble pedestal, facing away from me, with a golden glow emanating from somewhere in his lap.
I hesitated for a moment. The boy wore a grey T-shirt and had blonde hair; whatever he was doing, he seemed completely oblivious to me behind him.
Walking slowly towards him, I managed to get close enough, looking over his shoulder.
In his hand, he held a new iPhone 16.
On it, the boy was playing a game of Clash Royale.
"..." For a moment, I was left speechless.
Then I spoke.
"Excuse me? I was told to enter he-" speaking briefly, the boy turned around halfway through, placing down an E-giant.
He looked at me deeply in my eyes.
I wasn't sure what he had seen when he looked at me, but deep within his eyes was a golden glow, similar to what had drawn me deeper into the tent, and to the golden glow of the ticket still in my hand.
Just looking at the boy's eyes, I felt a guttural urge to kneel, clasp my hands and pray.
Swallowing the urge, I continued to look at the boy.
However, only after I had gotten over that urge did I notice the boy's facial features: small ears, a short bowl cut, and a beauty mark on the left side of his nose.
It was me.
Not me currently, but me as a child.
The only difference, the striking gold in his eyes.
"Paul Ansen." The boy spoke, but not in my childish voice, in a voice with wisdom and authority laced into it.
'…Is this a joke?' I retorted inwardly.
I had already seen a lot of strange things since I woke up, but somehow this had topped them all.
"Is that me?" I asked, pointing at his face.
The being didn't respond instantly, only shifting its gaze between me and its tower, being repeatedly hit by a hog rider.
"Would you prefer another form?" He said patiently.
...
I didn't answer; somehow, I felt like this was all a joke.
First, it was a giant eyeball in the sky, then an impossible 2d being and now a childish version of myself with golden eyes playing Clash Royale?
"Hmm," with a bried sound, the boy looked towards his phone, turning it off entirely, then focusing back on me.
"Welcome to death."
"At the fair cost of life, each living being has been given a ticket. This ticket shall grant you one wish. However, there are certain limits on wishes... Feel free to take as much time as you need. I assure you, Death is a great place." The small me spoke slowly, holding my gaze for its entire dialogue.
I looked at the ticket in my hand. Then back to its childish face.
"...So, what are you?" I finally asked.
The thing seemed to call this place death, which would make sense considering I had jumped off a 5-story building.
However, I still couldn't grasp everything I had seen. Was this god? And if so, was this heaven?
"Me? I am God, of course." Breaking its blank facade, the small boy or perhaps God, smiled widely.
"I am the creator of all things; The benefactor of life." He said, standing up from the podium, lifting his hand high for dramatic effect.
An awkward silence settled.
"...Okay," I said.
"...Okay?" The boy repeated.
"Yeah."
The boy blinked.
"I just told you that I am God..."
"And you've also got my face and were playing Clash Royale when I walked in."
"..."
"..."
"I feel like we're already past the point of normal reactions."
For the first time since I had entered the tent, the boy's expression shifted.
He looked disappointed.
"I usually get more praise."
"Sorry."
"You aren't curious?"
"I am," I said.
"And?"
"...I dunno."
The boy stared at me.
"You have one wish," he said. "Anything. Wealth. Power. Knowledge. Pleasure. Another chance at life. You may ask, and if it lies within the scope of your admission..."
He pointed toward the golden ticket in my hand.
"...it shall be granted."
I looked down at the ticket.
The soft golden glow illuminated the creases I'd made by gripping it too tightly.
One wish.
Anything.
I probably should have been excited.
I wasn't.
My thoughts drifted elsewhere.
"...Can I ask something first?"
"You just did."
"..."
"...Can I ask another thing first?"
The boy waved a hand.
"Proceed."
I hesitated.
Then asked quietly,
"Are my mother and sister here?"
The tent fell silent.
The smile on the boy's face remained unchanged.
"They have attended Death."
My fingers tightened around the ticket.
"...Can I see them?"
"You may."
I looked down, directly into the boy's golden eyes.
"Using the ticket?"
"Correct."
Silence.
I lowered my head again.
To the ticket sitting in my palm.
One wish.
"...No."
The boy tilted his head.
"No?"
"If I use it..." I swallowed.
"...then that's it, right?"
"Correct."
"And if they're gone afterwards?"
"They will continue existing."
"I mean for me."
The words came out before I could stop them.
"If I use it to see them..."
I stared at the ticket.
"...then I'll have nothing left."
The boy watched me.
For the first time, his expression became difficult to read.
"You jumped from a building because you believed you had nothing left."
"..."
"And now, after death, you refuse to spend your only wish."
I didn't answer.
Because he wasn't wrong.
I had wanted to die.
I had stood on that rooftop and let go.
Yet now...
"...I just want to know where they are," I said.
The boy's golden eyes held mine.
"Then why not ask?"
"...Because I might need this more later."
The boy stared.
Then stared longer.
"...You killed yourself."
"...Yeah," I responded slowly.
"You arrived in Death."
"Yeah."
"And your first instinct was investment."
"..."
"I don't know if that's admirable or deeply concerning."
The boy was quiet for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
A different smile this time.
Smaller.
More genuine.
"How fascinating."
He stepped down from the marble pedestal.
"Most people arrive here desperate to obtain more."
"More power."
"More time."
"More pleasure."
"More revenge."
He stopped in front of me.
"But you..."
His eyes lowered toward the ticket in my hand.
"...you seek another ticket before spending the one you already possess."
He looked back up.
"Well, in such a case, I would love to help you; however, this goes against my own rules. Finding another ticket lay entirely in your own hands."
"..."
"...Yeah, I thought so."
The boy's grin widened.
"Excellent."
Beyond the tent, somewhere in the endless dark beneath that impossible eye, something moved.
"Although I do recall there being a place in Death where discarded wishes, broken people, and stolen admissions gather."
He spread his arms.
"I believe it was called the underworld?"
His golden eyes gleamed.
"...Perhaps you'll find what you're looking for there."
The tent became quiet.
I looked down at the ticket again.
The glow remained steady.
One wish.
"...How many tickets are there?" I asked.
The boy blinked.
"As many as there are attendees."
"No." I looked up at him. "I mean extras."
His smile widened slightly.
"Ah."
"So there are."
"There are many things in Death that should not exist," the boy replied. "Yet existence has a tendency to inconvenience rules."
"...That doesn't answer my question."
"It does."
I stared at him.
"...You're annoying."
"I am God."
"I don't think those things are mutually exclusive."
The boy's shoulders shook.
For a brief moment, I realized he was laughing.
"You may leave the tent at any time, Paul Ansen."
"And then?"
"Experience Death."
"...That's it?"
"What more would you like?"
I looked around the tent.
The marble pedestal.
The dim golden light.
The childish version of myself standing before me.
"I don't know."
The answer slipped out before I thought about it.
"I thought there'd be more."
"More?"
"I jumped off a building."
The words sounded strange when spoken aloud.
"I thought there'd be judgment."
"Or punishment."
"Or my family waiting for me."
"...Something."
The boy listened quietly.
Then asked,
"Would you like punishment?"
"No."
"Judgment?"
"No."
"A reunion?"
"..."
I looked down.
"...Yeah."
"Then seek it."
His response came immediately.
I frowned.
"That's it?"
"You are dead, Paul."
The golden glow in his eyes deepened.
"For twenty-nine years, you lived as you pleased."
"You worked, you grieved, you isolated yourself, laughed when you found joy and loved when you could."
"You chose to leap."
"You exercised your freedom."
His gaze settled upon the ticket in my hand.
"And now..."
"...you possess one final choice."
"What if I choose wrong?" Following his gaze to the ticket in my hand.
"You will."
I looked up.
"What?"
"You will choose wrong."
The boy grinned.
"Repeatedly. You are human after all."
"...That isn't very reassuring."
"It wasn't intended to be."
Silence settled between us.
Eventually, I looked toward the tent's entrance.
"So..."
I hesitated.
"...If I leave, I can find this so-called Underworld?"
"You can attempt to."
"You make it sound difficult."
"It is."
"Will I die?"
The boy tilted his head.
"You already have."
"...Right."
I rubbed my face.
For some reason, I was tired.
Even after death.
I turned toward the exit.
Then stopped.
"...One last question."
The boy nodded.
"Ask."
I swallowed.
"...Do my mother and sister know I'm here?"
The smile on his face faded.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
"No."
My shoulders loosened hearing that. An unknown burden I've been carrying seemed to be slightly lifted.
"...I see."
Watching me in silence, the boy stepped aside.
The entrance to the tent stood open behind him.
"Go."
His golden eyes reflected the same light of the ticket in my hand.
"Find another admission. Find your family. Spend your wish... Or waste it. It no longer concerns me."
I looked at him one last time.
"...You're a pretty terrible God."
The boy grinned.
"And yet..."
He took his phone out of his pocket.
"...you still asked me for directions."
The iconic sound of Clash Royale opening echoed throughout the tent.
I stared at him for several seconds.
Then turned toward the exit.
The sound of Clash Royale continued behind me.
I wasn't sure if I had just spoken with God...
or an unemployed teenager with too much authority.
Either way, I left.