An Ink Stains Short-Story

Good Things come to those who wait


         Things could have been a little bit better for Gray Hastings but he wasn’t complaining. Not that it would have done any good anyway since he was dead, after all. Unlike what most living souls believe; the dead are just as conscious as they were in life; they just can’t move or speak. Part of the humbling process at the end of life is the terrifying frustration of not being able to save themselves from being drained of blood and then buried in the ground, or from the flames of the funeral pyre. All that is left for the dead then is the long wait of uncertainty. Some of the deceased probably put their hopes into resurrection but Gray never had strong religious beliefs and after what seemed like an eternity of self decay in the ground, his skepticism was reinforced proportionally. There are several stages that every person goes through after moribund. First comes the stage of rejection and refusal of the facts. Usually the person convinces themself that they are only having an extremely realistic nightmare that will hopefully soon end and all will be well. Subconsciously they know the truth but it is too horrible to contemplate. This quickly leads to complete denial. This stage doesn’t usually last long because the facts are too overwhelming to deny. After a median amount of time of soul searching and rationalization which varies from individual to individual; acceptance and curious wonderment occur. “What will happen to me now?”; They ponder. A hybrid mixture of religious teachings, superstition and logical theories do battle in the mind of those trapped in the lifeless shell of their former self.
“Will I soon move on to the afterlife realm of ‘Heaven’ or ‘Hell’?” “Will I float in limbo as an eternal soul or will I just reside here and rot forever in this wooden prison?” With nothing but time on his hands to theorize; Gray concluded that the third possibility was most likely and his scientific logic ‘won the battle’. The final stage for the dead was suppose to be peace and eternal tranquillity. Unfortunately, mercy was not known to Gray since all five senses were just as acute as they had been during his life. In fact they were probably heightened since he now existed in such cramped quarters where the smell of his own rotting flesh and the feel of worms under his skin were about the only stimuli for him to experience. Just as the living have to sometimes adjust to the overbearing mysteries of war, famine, pestilence, and disease that seem intolerable, the dead also have to adjust to their own unbearable situations because they simply have no choice in the matter. One of those things prevented Gray from  entering the final peaceful stage. A sports injury when he was young had dislocated his lower vertebrae and fractured a spinal disk so severely that doctors and chiropractors couldn’t really do anything to alleviate his pain. Most of his later life had been filled with aggravating back spasms, restless nights, and fitful sleep. The only way he could achieve any measure of relief from the piercing pain was with pain killers and to sleep on his left side. As time went on he required increasingly larger doses of the medication because his body had desensitized itself to the numbing effects. After death he continued to benefit from the trace amounts of pain killers which were still in his body until they eventually were absorbed into his decaying system. Gradually the pain became increasingly worse as his body remained in it’s torturously stationary prone position. The hopelessness of the situation placed him in a downward spiraling depression far blacker than the cold darkness of his coffin. The single, agonizing measure of his  existence seemed to be to decay and suffer.Sometimes in the raging silence of eternal night he could hear the sounds of worms eating holes through his flesh and feel the moist putrid liquids of lividity oozing out of his body.

Time had become an abstract concept for Gray since he had been placed in death’s dark cell. He didn’t know whether three weeks or three years had passed in the land of their living; six endless feet above. The only thing that really mattered was that he was really, absolutely, completely DEAD. A quick glance at the digital watch he had been buried with would have answered his questions about the elapsed time but it might as well have been a million miles away since he couldn’t lift his wrist to see it. The fatigue which plagued him almost constantly helped to remind him that he should rest just as the living do. The immense frustration he felt about being absolutely stationary and helpless increased his sympathy for the plight of those with physical handicaps since he could now understand the agony of being paralyzed. “At least they have someone to look out for their needs or to keep them company from time to time.”; He thought enviously. All he had was the total isolation of a coffin which would never end and his precious memories to recollect. His father had told him that it was to deny reality to live in the past but that single novelty was all he had left. “Perhaps ‘reality’ had passed him by.”; He thought miserably. “If only I had a mentor to reassure me that I really am dead or a companion to compare experiences with.”; He lamented. Instead, every man and woman was an astral pioneer; facing death on their own with no prior experience. Each crossed over into the realm of the underworld undead for the first time and they all entered without the benefit of a previous experience to aid them in their journey into the unknown.  “So this is what it’s really like.”; He thought. “There are no bright lights or friends and relatives to guide me. Nor is there a sense of peacefulness and tranquillity like those who came back from the dead have claimed.” It was nothing at all like that for him; as a matter of fact, it was more like Hell than anything else.  Sometimes the hunger pains in his stomach drowned out his aching back momentarily and the remaining enzymes in his saliva glands leaked into his putrid oral cavity and dissolved a little more of the flesh in his mouth. His body was rapidly falling apart and he was helpless to stop it. He began to wonder; “If the tissues in my body continued to break down and decay, will my senses soon cease to function?” “How wonderful it would be to not smell the horrid stench of death or to feel the  revolting sensation of worms eating through my brain!”: He exclaimed; but he didn’t really want an end to his senses. Deep within himself he realized that those torturous  experiences were actually comforting to him. Even being able to see the inside lid of his coffin or to hear the sounds of people walking on the soil above was better than his mind being completely isolated from everything else. “How can my senses even be working now? I’m dead!” It didn’t make any sense. His eyelids were almost certainly closed and the flesh of his ears were probably rotted off. The nerve endings in his skin would be one of the first  things to decay and yet he could feel, smell, and see EVERYTHING. Perhaps the acute senses he was experiencing was purely imagination and his real  senses were gone. The continual pain he felt in his back didn’t seem to be able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Maybe they  were one in the same in death. An indeterminable amount of time later Gray felt as if he could no  longer take the continuous backache pain that robbed him of the peaceful  sleep which he was sure he should be enjoying. The logical answer to the  mysteries of death he had decided on earlier held no hope for him.  In desperation he changed his mind toward religious beliefs which were more  in tune with his early upbringing. It was certainly more pleasant to believe in resurrection than simply to accept rotting. “What is the harm?”; He reasoned. The only thing in the way of convincing him that there would be a Biblical resurrection was a troubling scripture he had been taught as a child. Ecclesiastes 9: 5-10 stated: “Do all with your hands that you can do, for the living know that they are living but as for the dead, they know nothing.” How could the Bible; with all it’s splendid promises be true, including resurrection and eternal life, when he was obviously dead and yet fully conscious? In a strong effort to convince his mind, he decided the seemingly conflicting scripture didn’t allow for the restless dead like himself. “Could consciousness be the eternal torment for unrepentant sinners?”; He wondered. He scanned his mind in search of any great sins he might have committed during his lifetime but could not come up with any which he felt were sufficient enough to condemn him to the Hell he was in. Then he remembered the story of Job!

Job; a man of God; had been tormented by Satan in every conceivable way  in hopes of turning him away from God by misleading Job into thinking God was the one who was responsible for tormenting him. God allowed Job to be unjustly tormented in order to prove to Satan and his  followers that his subjects were loyal, regardless of their health or fortune. In the end of the test Satan’s efforts failed and Job’s loyalty to God was rewarded greatly. “Perhaps”; He hoped; “Judgment day for each person was like Job’s test.” Gray began to pray for his torment to end just as Job had. When nothing happened he wasn’t surprised. The difference between the true faith of a believer and desperate hope of those uncertain which he suffered from was significant. He realized that true faith was essential but he was unsure how to develop it. There  ertainly wasn’t any room for doubt or skepticism which he had plenty of and yet without proof he didn’t know any way to rid himself of the negative influences. Faith was one thing which required 100% belief. All he could do was pray for all his doubts to be lifted from his mind so his prayers would be sincere. Then; in what could only be described as a miracle; a strange sensation of peace seemed to surround his lifeless body. He felt all the worms in his corpse crawling toward the left side at the same time. Then his body’s natural decomposition fluids and the formaldehyde in his veins also shifted to his left side, which slowly caused his whole body to tilt in the coffin until it was resting on his comfortable side! There could be no scientific explanation for what had happened and yet it did. He slowly drifted off into death’s peaceful slumber with the comforting knowledge and faith that he would live again someday!

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