1 - He
When he opened his eyes, what he saw overwhelmed him. It was
total nothingness. He had never experienced it before. He
had only read about such things, but never believed them.
He looked around him, and still couldn't make out anything.
He looked at himself - tried touching himself - but
couldn't. He panicked. This had to be a dream, he thought.
Then, surprisingly, he heard a voice. He giggled (or thought
he did anyway) and listened to it.
"For all of you who are wondering what has happened to you
and where are you, I have extremely bad news. You are
dead."
Listening intently, he gasped at the last words. He couldn't
believe it. It seemed so irrational to believe that when you
die, you continue living - in some form of it anyway. The
kid never believed in god, in heaven, in hell, and even in
reincarnation. All those things seemed very childish and
naïve to him. The one thing that made him more or less
at ease was the fact that he was neither in hell nor in
heaven.
"You are nowhere and here you will remain."
Nowhere. That had a nice ring to it. Wasn't Peter Pan's
island called "nowhere"? He couldn't remember. He read the
book years ago, and missed the movie reruns on TV.
He thought about it - home. He remembered his mom and dad.
He thought of his friends. He thought about her. That was
the only thought that made him really sad that moment. He
was dead, and the memory of her made him sad! Unbelievable.
Anyway, he started moving around, or thinking of it anyway.
He appreciated the fact that he had no body, but his mind
was still used to it being there. He imagined his mind just
floating there in the middle of nowhere, among other minds
just like his. He giggled again. Nothing really to giggle
about, but that had never stopped him before.
Strange.
You never know what can happen to you. He was merely 17 and
already dead. His life had been far from full, and far from
joyous even. He was rarely really happy. That was what he
missed the most. The thought the someday he might be happy.
That thought was all he had when he was alive, now even that
was gone. How could a bodiless mind be happy in "nowhere"?
He sighed and thought of how he might spend eternity.
Thinking was hardly an option for him. He did it too much
when he was alive. He wanted to avoid it as much as possible
being dead. Thinking about being dead was not painful to
him. Yet, he thought it was extremely strange. He didn't
even remember that he died. No recollection of his death
whatsoever. That didn't add up. He must have died some way
or another. He knew it was no dream - he felt that he was
dead, and there was no question about it. So, how did he
die? He had no idea.
He sighed again. He was thinking too much. He couldn't
believe that eternity was like this - sighing and thinking.
It was really bad. Maybe this was hell. Hardly plausible -
that option. This was "nowhere", just like the voice said.
What was that voice? He didn't know. He didn't really hear
it. He just felt it being said. Neither could he identify
the voice. It had no characteristic, as if no one was
speaking. God couldn't be that voice. It was too silly to
believe. So who was it? It might have been his own mind
drawing the obvious conclusions from the facts. Yes, that
was surely what happened.
He was still thinking. He felt that he must stop it. It was
making him crazy. Thinking had gotten him nowhere in life.
Literally.
So what now? He didn't know.
He thought again of her. Of her and of his friends. It was
hard to think of it now, but he knew that he couldn't stop,
so he didn't even try. Thinking about it sent a chill down
his spine (or so he thought). He wanted to see her. Badly.
He never felt such an urge before. He could feel that his
death meant that he hadn't accomplished a thing. He felt
like crying - the only thing he wanted, happiness, was
beyond his ability to reach. He had to see her. For one last
time. Seeing her would be...

Then something changed. Suddenly an opening formed in his
view. It was no ordinary opening, because you couldn't touch
it and feel it (he had no hands, either way). It was just
some picture that formed in his mind. He felt as if he was
seeing a movie, only it wasn't just that. It was something
that took the vacant spot before the eye of his mind.
What he saw was the small playground near his house.
It was nearing on evening, and he saw the winding path
between the patches of artificially grown grass. There was
nobody on the street, but a group of kids - teenagers -
sitting on a bench.
The sun was just setting, and the street looked beautiful.
The few palm trees planted randomly across the area leaned a
bit as the wind rocked their high tops. The
undistinguishable little leafless trees stood quietly,
watching their bigger cousins being stroked by the wind.
He could not see anywhere beyond the little area of the
small playground. He surely had no interest in it. He only
wanted to see those patches of grass, the trees and the
bench.
Near the kids sitting on it, he could see her clearly.
This was what eternity was like. He liked it. It meant that
thinking wouldn't be the only thing to do in there. He liked
to watch. The world was at the palm of his hand. He just had
to want it badly enough.
He smiled and looked on.

2 - They
Smiling, she looked at her friends. She was delighted to be
there. It was her world, her life and her joy. These people
enjoyed being with her, and that's all that mattered. She
never wanted more from life but good friends and great
company - and that she had now. She was having fun.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Nothing, Har, nothing at all... I just like having you
here," she answered sweetly.
"That's so cute! Everybody - OOOOH," and everyone laughed.
She joined in, of course. She had no reason not to. Only
Little Jim kept silent. (Actually, Jim wasn't so little. It
was a nickname he got for being rather foolish at times, and
the name referred more to his brain size than his to his
physique.)
"I don't think it's appropriate to laugh now. I just can't
stop thinking about it," he said silently, trying to get as
little attention as possible.
Har looked at him with annoyance, "Shut up already!" he
hissed. "You know that's not helping to lighten the mood."
Everyone had already stopped laughing. It wasn't something
they liked to talk about.
"That's right, but still, I can't seem to get over it. It's
strange to have death pay a visit so close to you," that was
Niki, sitting between Little Jim and Stan.
"I don't know. It is hard to think about it, but it's also
a one-of-a-kind experience!" Har said, and started laughed
hysterically. The laugh quickly died off - when he saw no
one was going to join him. He looked around, shrugged and
looked at Niki.
Niki took the queue and hesitantly murmured something about
it being improper to joke around while someone died only the
day before.
No one said a thing. She had a point.
"Jane, what do you think?" Stan looked at the pacing to and
fro girl.
"I really don't know. He's dead - I know that. But, for some
reason I don't feel sad or sorry. I know he loved me, and I
did like him, but..." she sighed, "nothing, I don't seem
to be able to feel a thing. It's like he was never here. I
feel as if someone who had never really mattered
disappeared. I know that's a terrible thing to say, and
especially of him, but he really was a bit strange and
outlandish of some sort."
"I know I shouldn't be saying it, but you may have a point,"
Niki added with a thoughtful look. "It's like... nothing. He
had never occupied a place in my life so that I could care
about him when he's gone."
"Stop it, you two!" Har broke in. "I know that this death
thing is terrible and all that crap, but you can't think
about it all the time. It's all over - he's dead. You can't
change that by speaking of it and by sighing saying how
sorry you are for it. I know you hardly ever thought to give
a damn about him, so why are you acting like fools?"
Stan looked at his friend sitting next to him, "It's not
that, you know. I guess it has something, a lot of
something, to do with the simple fact that somebody we knew
died. It's not a nice thing to experience, no matter what
you think about it."
"Do you think we could have done something?" Jane asked in a
whisper, afraid to speak the thought out loud for the first
time. It occurred to her several times during the past 24
hours. Each time it made her sadder and sadder. Even her
friends failed to give her comfort. Niki, her best friend,
was no help to her either.
"Don't thing about it. It won't get you anywhere but a lot
of crying," Little John contributed his pearls of wisdom.
"You should let it go, but not exactly. I think there is
something to learn from this. Every death brings with it
great sorrow, but this sorrow and sadness should build
something new and better." He looked flushed. Even Niki, who
had known him for years, had never seen him so excited. He
was flushed, and was speaking coherently - a process, which
failed to happen often.
"There is nothing you can do. We can just continue sitting
here and speaking of how this and how that, or we can go
catch a movie. What do you say?" Har tried to show a bit of
enthusiasm.
"See a movie is the last thing I want to do now. I'd like to
go home and think for a while," Jane's low voice echoed in
the deserted street.
"Why are we all thinking about it? That wasn't something we
could control, so why should we blame ourselves for it?"
Stan, the young demagogue began one of his speeches. No one
objected this time. "Jane, he loved you. I don't really know
how much, but it must have been something out of the
ordinary. You had little, if any, feelings for him. So will
you try to blame yourself for making him miserable? You
couldn't help it - you couldn't make yourself love him.
"Old Roy there, sitting at home now, was his best friend. He
knew him like none of us did. He really loved him. But he
doesn't sit at home and think what he could have done to
stop this. He's just trying to put it all behind him. You
see how he rarely speaks of it - he tries to forget about
him and about us. He tries to avoid anything that might
remind him of it. We should do the same - try to forget
about it, and not sit here like morons feeling sorry for
ourselves," he was waving his hands, and getting really
excited. But something occurred to him, and he seemed to dry
up. He stopped and sat down again.
"I don't think that any of us understands what is happening
here. We are really feeling sorry for ourselves and not for
him. That's a bit hypocritical of us I guess. That also has
little point. Jane, you should really stop doing that. It
will only hurt you and bring you no good. How can it help
that you think of him? I think you should burn all those
letters of his, and try to put him behind you. The only
thing that should remain is a sweet and beautiful memory.
And besides, time will make it go away," Niki tried to
comfort her. She knew it would have little affect, but she
did have to try.
Jane continued walking around quietly. She was on the verge
of tears, and everyone saw that. No one really knew what to
do. Har picked at his cell phone, trying to find out how
much time could he burn doing completely nothing. Little
John still had the glint in his eyes, but kept silent, out
of respect (for no one in particular). Niki sat with her
head bent, staring at her new shoes. She didn't want to look
at Jane. Stan followed her walking around. He was really
scared what might happen to her. He saw clearly that she was
hurting. He didn't know why, but he made a promise to
himself - not to let anything happen to her.
Jane herself, was really sinking deeper and deeper into that
terrible place we call self-pity. She didn't know what to do
with herself. She was ashamed and hurt. She could feel the
stinging in her eyes, but tried as much as she could to keep
the tears out of her eyes. She knew that no one was going to
help her - there was no way to do that.
What was amazing about all those thoughts running through
Jane's head at that moment, was the fact that not even once
had she thought about him and his death.