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On Being Dead

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After I was dead, things started to get boring. Oh, it was interesting at first, of course. Walking through walls and all that. Going "boo" at people, etc. But the problem is, you can't really affect anything. Or at least, if you can, I haven't learned how yet. Right now, being dead is kind of like playing a brand new video game, but no one's explained how the controls work yet, only there's no walk-through videos posted anywhere. You just have to kind of figure it out for yourself. The afterlife is just one huge open-world exploration game, with faulty controls and no NPC's. At first I thought I'd do a bit of haunting. I wanted to hang out with my old friends, I thought it would be funny to occasionally play tricks on them, like move stuff around in their house while they slept, that kind of thing. But I can't actually touch or manipulate anything. I can't talk to anyone. I visited my best friend and tried talking to her; she had no idea I w
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The Hole

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She couldn’t remember when the hole had gotten this big. She couldn’t even recall how she’d gotten herself into the hole in the first place. Had the ground suddenly opened up and swallowed her, or had she been standing in one place for so long that she’d worn the hole through on her own? Maybe she’d been born in the hole; she certainly couldn’t remember not being in it. But she definitely remembered that it was once a lot smaller, and much shallower. She couldn’t even see out of the top of the hole now. Even standing on tiptoes and stretching her hands way over her head, she couldn’t reach the top of the hole. She could recall a time when the hole only reached as high as her waist, and she could no longer remember why she didn’t just climb out of it then, when it was easy to do so. Instead, she had elected to dig in deeper. She felt safer in the hole. No one could get in and harm her. It wasn’t until she stopped digging and noticed how big the hole had become that she realiz
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Apple

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The old apple revels in its authority. The other fruits in the bowl are fresh from the supermarket -- the bananas were just brought home today, and they marvel at the kitchen and its gleaming countertops. The peaches and nectarines came home from the Farmers' Market yesterday. But the apple. The apple's been here since Tuesday. He's seen some shit. He's been around the proverbial block. He's been around the real block, also; on Tuesday when the woman picked him up at the grocery store, they made several stops on the way home. The apple still has his stem, and a small round sticker with a UPC code which is half peeled off. He was nearly chosen for lunch yesterday, but he was accidentally dropped on the floor and bruised, so he was hastily returned to the bowl. The bananas ooh and ahh over the décor, the natural lighting, the elegant backsplash. They are excited to be here. If they could see what the apple has seen, they would not be so eager. The apple has se
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Helping

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Today I talked to someone new. That might not seem like a big deal to other people, but I have a crippling fear (not to mention mistrust, and also dislike) of other people. So it was a big step for me. Of course occasionally I have to talk to someone new -- at the grocery store, or through work, the Starbucks barista, or in situations like that. But this time I actually approached someone new and struck up a conversation with them. It didn't go well. Maybe my mistake was to approach someone in the bright sunshine of the day, out in the wild. It seems like the only place you're supposed to do this is in the dark, at night, in a seedy bar or nightclub. I was in the park, on a lunch break. I had already eaten, so I was flipping through Facebook on my phone and kind of watching the general world around me. I like to watch other people going about their daily lives, and try to make up stories about them -- who they are, where they're going, who they're talking to. So
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