He was alive and then he was dead, gone from the world he knew, gone from everything.
He had wondered about it before he died wondering what it would be like, wondering if there would be anything after.
Near death experiences fascinated him and he read whatever he could about them. But now he was dead and he was at last going to find out what it was really like.
He knew he was aware, that he was some sort of thinking entity and he was pleased. He just didn’t want to be alone, cut off or worse.
Time passed although he didn’t have a sense of time, it was different here in this place he found himself in. It was almost like being in a vacuum.
But then it changed as he found himself in a tunnel or something like one. It seemed to go on forever too, an unending tube-like thing spiraling out in front of him with shadows and light.
The light was promising he liked it for he could see something moving in front of it, something down at the other end, something like figures.
But they weren’t really moving in the way he was used to seeing people move nor were they figures or indeed people. No, it had to be something else. They had to be something like spirits.
When you’re dead there is no more substance.
This was a thought of his, something he had composed before he died. Like a treatise on death.
There’s either something or there isn’t but if there is something then it's only spirit.
One of them called out. Then more did. There were shouts and whispers too. The shouts were from far away but the whispers were getting closer.
He tried to listen except he couldn’t understand them. It was like they were speaking in tongues.
The thing was he wanted to hear what they were saying. He tried to see their faces or indeed if they had faces, but all he saw were shadows, great flickering shadows lining the tunnel.
“They are whispering shadows, no more than that. Then I must be like a shadow too.”
They were coming closer, that was obvious. He wasn’t certain if he liked it either, it seemed threatening to him.
They began to encircle him then. Their whispers becoming louder—so loud they were less like whispers and more like hissing.
Could he be in hell? Would he find himself surrounded by demons next?
A wish, heartfelt it would have been if he still retained a heart but sincere anyway because you see he was very fearful now.
This was ominous. He couldn’t tell where he was or what awaited him.
Then it all changed as the shadows moved off and the figures began moving toward him.
These were not shadows but beings, beings like himself. Perhaps these were the guardians he had read about, beings who escorted the dead to the great light and to family that had already passed on.
“I’m here! Please help me show me the way.”
He kept calling to them and they did indeed keep coming but then he stopped for he could see what they were. They were in their human form, young women. Hundreds of young women, angry—screaming at him. Shouting to him. Reaching out for him with claw like hands, their eyes fixed—their mouths open screaming his name.
And there beyond them were those that had died for they could not get over the murder of their daugher or friend or sister.
They were coming closer and there was nothing he could do at all.
It was then that he finally heard his name:
"Bundy! Bundy we have you now!"
Ted Bundy 1946-1989
Before his execution he confessed to 30 homicides committed in seven states between 1974 and 1978; the true total remains unknown, and could be much higher.
Under 700 words
© copyright 2011 Carole Gill