He was dead. He certainly felt dead. At least, he thought this was what being dead felt like. Sort of a floaty feeling, as though he had suddenly exited Earth’s gravitational pull. Which was, of course, impossible; Charlie was not an astronaut, nor an alien, nor did he ever desire to leave the small and comfortable planet on which he and six billion others like him lived.
Wait. Charlie? That was his…yes. His name. He was Charlie. Charlie…damn it. He couldn’t remember the last name.
Oh well. He was dead. He thought. Either way, he doubted that a last name really mattered.
He looked around. This simple action, he found, was immensely difficult. Being weightless, a small shift of his head to the right sent his body spiraling out of control for a moment. He struggled back into a reasonably still position. This was also difficult, and required an incredibly complex series of twists.
Now he opted to simply use his narrow field of vision to look around. He discovered that looking around was largely needless. It was black. Pitch black. Well, I AM dead, he thought. It seems right that there’s nothing here.
But was he dead? What had happened before he ended up…wherever this was? He thought ( was he thinking? He didn’t know he could do that, being dead-quit thinking you’re dead, idiot, you don’t know that) about it. There was….a crash. A car? A plane? No, that was stupid. He never traveled by plane…or did he? Fuck.
As he was thinking about this, gravity suddenly hit him with the force of a train wreck. He fell, down into the blackness. As he fell, he could only think of one thing:
What the HELL is going on?
The Incoherent Musings of one Duran Grey, Esq. 