FICTION
Are We Meant to Understand the True Meaning of Life Only After It’s Over?
Experience freedom from your mind and from everything else
Most people pretentiously like sun-rises and choose to believe that there’s something positive to look forward to every morning. It’s like we decided to collectively delude ourselves into waking up early and hoping that today will be better than yesterday — that this act has some meaning.
In contrast, she was a creature of the night and let out a big stretch as she watched the moon go up from her bed. The sky was a dark black, with hints of purple and blue as if the paints weren’t mixed together very well, yet brought out distinct imagery.
Caroline’s body took a feline shape as she rose and cracked her fingers against the giant cedar trunk. There wasn’t much flesh down there, but she could change that if she wanted. Surprisingly, she didn’t care about her looks anymore after a lifetime of adhering to a 12-step skincare routine. She was finally free, and no one could take that away from her.
The night before Halloween is a rehearsal dinner of sorts, where one gets their bearings. After all, Caroline and her friends had a long list of people to haunt and only one night to achieve desired results.
It was time to snuff out some candles. Practice makes better; she cackled into the piercing night air before waking the others.
M took her own sweet time to get up as if she hadn’t had her fair share of rest. She’s been here the longest, and at first, was seen as a mother figure by the others. In reality, she was more like a tour guide who offered an orientation to the newcomers by helping them accept this superior reality.
Life in a graveyard was better for most than those they had led before, which took some adjusting. Later, on popular demand, due to the numerous negative associations with that word, she was renamed M.
Legend has it that she doesn’t remember her name on purpose. She wanted to create a new identity, in contrast to her non-existent one before.
Together they gathered a group of 40 bodies under the damp limbs of sprawling cedar trees. Some instructions were due and general agreement on what is okay and not okay. For example, pranking someone by blowing out their jack-o-lanterns was fine. Whereas scaring someone into a heart attack, even if they deserved it, wasn’t.
The next night wasn’t about revenge, as talked about in dumbed-down mainstream culture. That’s just inane mind control stuff; they say it boosts costume sales. For this group, it was about living, something they never did when they were biologically alive.
Caroline had spent every waking moment of her life in fear. She thought about what would happen if she didn’t do something and then some about what wouldn’t get done if she prioritized herself. She spent her days like a toy horse strapped on a carousel, unable to get off.
M welcomed her on that first night when Caroline cried a bottomless river of regrets by assuring her that this wasn’t over. Something’s waiting on the other side — a little feeling called freedom.
She ran through the fields, her dress sweeping the dry weeds littering the ground. Caroline didn’t want to stop and rest; as we can imagine, she’d had enough of that in the past year. Muddy and sweaty, she dragged herself atop the cliff, overlooking the ocean.
Completing a quick scan of the nearby beach, she let out a thunderous scream. Regret had soon turned to anger and then eventually to a place of emptiness, but there was still some left behind. She’ll never stop being angry, but the difference is, she finally stopped caring.
Caroline walked around the whole night, something to check off her reformed bucket list. She observed the burnt orange leaves, the mounds of trash left out beside the manicured picket-fenced lawns, and breathed in the crisp smell of bonfires.
She ate a bunch of candy corn and filled her pockets with even more for later. Some teenagers in the parking lot complimented her costume, remarking on its realism, and she went on to smoke a cigarette with them. She remembered herself at 16 when she never forgot to be brave amidst the worst throws of pain, only to lose her way later, when things were better.
No time for regrets, she abruptly reminded herself while standing in front of her childhood home. Fighting back disturbing images and settling for just the visualization of burning it down, she made her way back.
She spent the last hour sitting just by herself. The waves noisily caressed her feet, and the color of the foam seemed a little too white. It spoke to her, everything here, in a secret language of love. It’s a connection she’d felt before yet somehow also seems new every time.
Taking a mental snapshot of her footprints in the sand, Caroline returned home a little before 5 a.m., extremely satisfied and spent. This right now — the thing I am holding is bliss. It’s oddly freeing.
How do you feel?, enquired M, while packing up some books she’d acquired with her annoying all-knowing look.
Alive.
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