John awoke in a dark unfamiliar place. What the hell was going on? He frowned, swivelled his head this way and that trying to find something, anything, but darkness met his haggard gaze at every point. Was this the afterlife? Had he died? John licked his lips, pushed himself up with one hand, and trailed it along what he thought must be a black wall, cause he sure as fuck couldn't see anything but black.

Five steps, and he came to what felt like a corner. Along the next wall he trailed his hand slowly, taking furtive steps into the unknown. For all he knew, the next step could be into a pit of demons, soul-eaters, or on a serpent creature's tail. All manner of horrors flitted through his mind and before long he was shuffling instead of stepping. Better safe than sorry.

Greyness bloomed from the wall opposite him, and he froze, relieved and terrified. The black room lit up the slightest bit, as if someone had just blown out a candle, and the last embers of coal still gave off the faintest light. Death appeared through the wall and plopped on the floor just beyond the grey half-light. He got to his feet, dusted himself off, and pointed at John, trembling with rage.

'You shouldn't be here! You cannot be! Why are you still alive?'

The darkness seemed suddenly more welcoming, and John leaned his back against the wall, one hand still plastered to it. 'I--' God, he didn't know what to say. Wait, had Death just said 'alive'? He frowned.

'This isn't in the Book. Nothing happens outside the Book.' Death paced to and fro, from the shadows into the half-light and back, and John followed his movements with a swivelling head.

'It just can't be. Once you die, you die. You don't come back, you don't enter the shade, you die.'

John swallowed. 'D- Did you say alive? Am I alive?'

Death looked up and straight at John. Fuck, had he pissed it--him--off? Death sighed, swiped a hand over his face. What did that mean, was he in the shit, or more in the shit than dying or whatever this was?

'Yes, John Finnie born 22-07-1987, I said alive. You are alive.'

Suddenly Death stormed to him with a pointed finger, and John clung to the wall as if it could protect him. 'How did you do it? How how how!' Death's shout rang in his ears, and John's breathing quickened. The smell of Death's musty breath clung to the inside of his nostrils, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. It smelled like flowers--funeral flowers--and dusty old closets.

'I--, what do you mean? I don't even fucking know how I got here!' It was John's turn to shout. This fucker'd been messing in his life and now he was stuck in this godforsaken hole of darkness. And then he had the audacity to shout at him.

Musk wafted into his nostrils and mouth, and Death heaved, fuming and glaring into John's eyes from only centimetres away. 'You! You, you...It was you, but not you.' For a moment it seemed Death was calming down, but then his frown deepened and he clenched his teeth together. 'No,' he growled, 'you did it, it was you and not you. Now tell me, how!' The last word came out like a loud thundering growl and put a tremor in John's hand.

'I'm sorry man,' he said, 'I really don't know what you're talking about.' Fuck he sounded scared. Well, he was scared, but it was worse sounding scared to top it off. John couldn't decide whether he cared anymore anyway. What did it matter if he sounded scared? There was no one here to laugh at him. 'Please, where am I, what's going on?'

'Listen John, you better not be messing with me.'

John noted smugly that Death had dropped the 'born on blah blah blah' title. Maybe he was getting through to it--him.

'You know who I am, what I can do.' Death looked desperate, leaning against the wall and jabbing his finger so close it was almost up John's nose.

Slow and steady, John raised both his hands in the air. 'Mate, I'm not messing with you. I really don't know.' He looked around at the black walls and that one splodge of grey. 'I don't even know where we are, or how the hell I got here.' For the first time since he'd woken in the dark pit, John's heartbeat calmed, and he looked around like a man who'd just woken up. 'Can you tell me where we are? What happened?'

Death stood straight, removed his hands from near John's nostrils and the wall, and a glazed look fogged up his eyes. 'Yeah.' The glazed look didn't go away and he turned towards the grey. 'Yeah, I suppose I should.' From over his shoulder, Death peeked at John, then looked back at the grey and clicked his fingers. 'You may wanna sit down for this.' A chair appeared at the core of the grey spot, and the dark grey became more a medium to dark grey, as if someone was trying to rekindle the wick on that candle, blowing the tiny coals back to life. With the bit of extra light, it became clear they were in a room. John could see the four black walls clearly now, only a few meters long each, as if they were inside a black cube.

Fucking strange, but then his whole bloody life was strange. He shrugged, walked over, and plopped himself down in the chair, slouching like he was back in Acko the Bastard's class. It felt good, like something normal and normal things were becoming rarer and rarer in his messed up life.

'Alright, I'm sitting.' John gestured with a hand. 'Have at it.'

Death started to sit, and a chair appeared beneath his ass. Impressive.

'Well, John Finnie born 22-07-1987, you were supposed to--'

John held up a hand. 'Can you cut the born twenty-two, blah blah blah? I know my birthday, and it's just us here.'

'Well,' Death said. 'Yeah, okay. I guess.' With one finger he smoothed out his eyebrow. 'So then John, as I was saying, you should have died today, nineteen oh seven...' A guilty look crossed Death's face. 'I mean, you know, today. You were supposed to die in a car accident.'

'What!' John sat up, fists balled together. I die today? I thought you said I'm not dead!' So Death was a fucking liar and a prick.

'No, no.' With his hands Death made calming motions, patting the air like Beyoncé's ass was there. 'Just calm down John Finnie. You are not dead.'

'Well where are we then? What's going on?'

Death scratched his head. 'You're in...the shadows, the in between place. Your body is on the earth, in hospital.'

What? The spit in John's throat seemed clawing, sticky. He swallowed and sat back. Fuck me, so this wasn't his body? He inspected each of his hands in turn, then held them up to Death like evidence. 'But what is this then. This is a body...isn't it?'

Death shook his head like a patient psychiatrist.

'Fuck.' What else could he say? Stunned he sat just breathing, not even thinking, until finally words returned to him. 'Am I ever going back?'

It was Death's turn to lean back. 'Well, that depends I guess. This is really a first for me.'

'Really? So, I'm the first in this shadows place?'

'Oh, no,' Death said. 'Not the first in the shadows, the first one not in the Book.'

John rolled his eyes. Not the Book again. 'This isn't really helping me. What's not in the Book? What have you done with Charlie and my Dad?' Something squeezed John's chest tight and the air wouldn't come in. His nostrils flared and he frowned. Shit, he had to get out of here. The black walls closed in around him, trapping him, suffocating him, pushing against his sanity until at last, grabbing his head in both hands, he screamed.

'Oh, s'cuse me a sec.' Just like that Death walked into the black wall, and the grey faded away until there was only pitch darkness.

'Wait!' John screamed, terror in his voice and chest. Fuck, this couldn't be happening. Nothing made sense, and he was trapped in this fucking box. There had to be a way out. He leapt up and ran at the wall Death had disappeared through and hit its surface square on. Pain bloomed from his nose, warm and sharp. Shit. He banged his fists against its surface.

'Help! Someone, anyone! Heelp!' Nothing. This forsaken shadows place had him and wouldn't let him leave. Against the wall he leaned, then slid slowly to a sitting position. What was happening on the earth now? Was his heart failing? Was mam crying? Maybe Charlie was holding his hand, maybe Dad was kissing his forehead. Images of himself in a white hospital gown, bandaged and bloodied, came to mind. Images of pipes in his lungs and down his throat and in his nose.

No! No no no. This couldn't be happening. What about the lotto ticket--they were going to be rich, they were going to be a family. Little Charlie, she...she finally had a dad. They were going to be happy forever. And Samantha fucking Grimes with her sizzling hot body was kissing him--him! This shit was so unfair.

'Help!' he yelled again, but nobody was coming, that much he knew. Looked like he was stuck. Shit, he pinched his eyes shut and held his head between his knees. Looking at black all the time messed with his head, messed with his eyes, made him feel crazy. 'Please if there's a God, get me out of this fucking hole.' Oh, crap had he just sworn at God? 'God, I'm sorry if you're there. I'm sorry for the Blinking and the cheating. I...' He was beyond caring and tears wet his cheeks, rolling warm and salty onto his lips. 'Please, let it end. Please, I just wanna go home.'

P.S.

The dark chapter (hehe). I hope it's been a good read, but let me know what your honest thoughts are. Srsly tho...I really want to know what you think. Is it convincing? Is there something you thought sounded wrong?

© Steve Ford & Joy Cronjé 2018