Afterlife

I remember feeling cold, so very cold. Then even that was gone. Then I felt like I could see something. I thought I was drifting through clouds. Then I realised for the first time I was not me. Not anymore, I was just a soul, some kind of essence that just was. I felt my panic slipping away. Finally I could let go the memories, the years, the time. Then suddenly a great burst of warmth enveloped me, and I knew it was going to be alright. I felt something embrace my soul.

I can’t even describe the force to you as there are no words for such. I could see clearly. I don’t know how a soul does this, but with the warmth came a vision. I was in an infinite space. I could see clouds in the far distance that went far beyond massive. They were epic, bigger than our entire galaxy. They seemed to be green, but at the same time, blue. I could not exactly tell. They shifted slowly, but if you were in them the change would be horrifically violent.

I saw more. There were lots of tiny pinpricks of light floating in the air. Most were white, but a couple had some colour to them. I realised what these were almost as if I already knew. These were souls of others, thousands of them. They hung suspended in the air, or whatever we were in. I heard singing, a choir of hundreds, possibly they were angels. They were singing in a language I don’t understand, but the music they made was like the beauty of the entire world I lived in magnified many times. I wondered if any who heard this sound, could ever do wrong in their life ever again.

As I floated there, I realised that more souls were appearing. They were just little points of light that faded into existence. I also realised something else. My soul, my being, was moving through this field of essence, slowly at first, like a snail crawl. Then I realised how wrong I was about the size of this place. It was beyond infinity. To try and grasp it’s size would surely send one mad. Maybe, it had no size at all.
My journey started to speed up. Souls came and past me, although I was aware of others that were also moving, and in my direction too.

In the distance, I observed a small point of blackness. Tiny, but without the limitations of a body, I could see clearly, forever. Then I heard something incredible. It was like a rumbling sound, completely in harmony with the choir, which never seemed to even quieten, but very, very present. It was the presence of the great being, the one given so many names and colours by those of planet earth, which even now seemed like a million years away.

I suddenly felt frightened. Was this it then? Was this the final judgement? Where would I be sent? Heaven or Hell? Or maybe there was no distinction. Maybe there would be a one-for all place. Maybe, the waters of time would simply pull back, and we would live our lives exactly the same, all over again. I was scared of this judgement. I had not led a religious life, and I had done some bad things, nothing really bad, but perhaps enough to condemn myself to fire.

As if sensing this, the choir suddenly rose to a volume which drove all thoughts of that from my mind. I wanted to stay, here in this field of warmth and goodness, with a million others. I wondered if any of the others saw me? I wondered if ..... saw me.

The black spot had now become a hole, of pure blackness. I couldn’t guess the size. I realised all size is really, irrelevant. At least, it is here, although it looked infinite, it could have been the size of a water drop. There were other souls heading for the hole. I saw them; one by one, go into the hole, and then their light was gone.

I felt my fear drain away. I had made my choice in life, not here. The hole swelled in my vision, filling it. Just at the last, before I felt sure that I would journey into darkness, all turned white, and I realised I was going beyond, to a place no-one on earth could ever see, because even if we do evil, god doesn’t judge us. I could make out shapes, in front of me, but it was so white, utter, brilliant light. I went...

(This work is copyright(c) of the author, Chris Drinkall)