I was in a world of darkness.

  I couldn’t see, feel, or hear. It felt like a weighted blanket inside a sensory deprivation tank. When I had imagined death and the world beyond, I had always assumed that I would just cease to be. The reality was different, but not unpleasant. I was a mind in a void, left to ponder my own thoughts endlessly. I could remember my life, but it seemed my name had deserted me. Luckily, I couldn’t remember how it felt to have four tons of truck turn me into hamburger. I knew it had been quick, but I’m sure there was a moment of unimaginable pain and terror.

  I drifted along like that for an unknowable amount of time. It could have been minutes; it could have been eons. There was no way to tell. Suddenly, from the darkness, I heard a voice. Maybe "heard" is the wrong word to use; I felt a voice. Masculine and powerful, deep and vibrant. It was a hammer striking an anvil, a sword piercing armor, a fearsome storm ravaging the seas, and a gentle morning sun warming your skin. It sounded nothing like my father’s voice, but for some reason, that was the image that appeared in my mind when I heard it. Father, King, Protector. The voice of Man, distilled down to its perfect form and beamed directly into my brain.

  It was laughing.

  “Oh Me, did you see that? Two trucks?! And he almost got away!! The squirrely little fella almost made it! He hasn’t moved that fast since grade school relays! Wow, that was really something, huh?”

  Great. The Divine Arbiter of the Afterlife was having a laugh at my expense. Just when I thought a life of quiet humiliations was over, I got to have a taste in death as well.

  A second voice made a reproachful noise, once again beamed directly into my head. This one was distinctly feminine—warm and seductive, but also chaste and wise. It sounded like… like the moon and the oceans and the forests singing all at once. It was rhythmic and gentle and loving, but also just as strong as the first, only with more compassion and the same steely finality. Again, it made me think of Mother even though it sounded nothing like my actual mom.

  “That was cruel, Father. He was just a boy! And to punish him after he made the first dodge—he could have used that moment to turn it around!” I couldn’t speak, but I wanted to scream my agreement. I mean, come on, man! Two trucks! There were serial killers who died of old age; why did I deserve a delivery truck forwards and backwards?

  “No. He would not have. He was thirty-one and still had never taken any chances or made any choices. Him dying now made as much difference as him dying at three hundred and ten. He would have remained a passive consumer of garbage until death took him, one way or another. You know this as well as I do, my Queen.”

  The voice was solemn and serious now. His words stung, but I couldn’t disagree. In my head, I often fantasized about what my life would be like when I finally ‘got it together.’ Money, women, cars, houses, vacations, fame, and badassery—all the other things men dream of. In the real world, I never even attempted to try for any of those. Not even once. I just drifted aimlessly, reading my trash and waiting for life to happen to me. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but being dead has a way of changing your perspective.

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  “Well, maybe not… but still. It was cruel. You know I love my children, Father, even the useless ones. And this one had such potential. It feels like a waste to end that for a sick joke, even if it would probably have been as you say.”

  Yikes. Even the eternally forgiving Mother thought I was a loser.

  “What are you trying to tell me, my Queen? Come on, speak. I know you well enough to know when you have an idea.” The Father voice seemed annoyed, but not completely against whatever the Mother voice was implying. All I could do was exist as the mind in the black void, wanting to speak on my own behalf but unable. After what seemed like forever, the Mother answered.

  “Another chance, my love. Just one more. So that he can be something this time. That’s all I’m asking—a chance to prove to himself and us that there is more to him.”

  “Absolutely not. This boy wasted his life on meaninglessness and idle distractions. Our chances are for those who were worthy but stopped by fate, not for those who had every chance but threw it away. Even this existence right now might be too comfortable for him; I say throw him to the pits of torment and be done with it! I have spoken!”

  I tried my hardest to scream. I didn’t deserve the pits of torment for being a loser! Maybe for, like, a couple of thousand years, at most! But I had no mouth to scream with. I was a victim of circumstance in death as I had been in life.

  “My love… please. If not for the boy, then for me. You know I can’t stand to see my children suffer.” The Mother voice had a gentle, pleading, and seductive tone that implied a hand suspiciously high up a thigh. The Father voice was quiet for a moment, then cleared itself with a sound like thunder.

  “Very well, my enchanting wife. But on the condition that I get to choose his form! And this is final this time, woman! No negotiations!” The Father voice seemed less certain than it had before. Clearly, the Mother had some tricks up her sleeve when it came to getting her way.

  “Of course, my King, of course! Give him any form you choose in your infinite wisdom, and I am sure he will prove you wrong! This mewling kitten can become a ferocious tiger, just watch!”

  If I could breathe, the sigh of relief that would escape my lungs might have lasted ages. I didn’t care so much about proving anyone wrong or conquering my fate, but I was very sure that I did not want the pits of torment. Any stay of execution was welcomed. At least, until the Father voice began to chuckle like an earthquake.

  “Then it will be so! He will be brought back into the world he loved so much, in the form befitting his old life! Oh yes, I’ll make sure he feels right at home, hoho! I have spoken, and so it shall be done! In My name!”

  And then I was spinning, careening dizzily through space and time, my existence being stretched and pulled and warped crazily at the speed of light from the realm of death into a new life. I heard one last thing as I spun and raced through the cosmos, a consciousness riding a runaway train toward an unknown destination. The Mother, speaking softly so that the Father wouldn’t hear:

  “And for you, my child, I will give a little gift. Where would we be if mothers didn’t spoil their children every now and then, eh?”

  And once again, it was black.

  [SKILL ACQUIRED: DEVOUR]