Roman Philosopher Seneca once said, “We are more frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality.” he also said, “Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all.” Whispers of lavender and ribbons of lemongrass tickled an Atheist's nose, pulling back from the depths of darkness where no dreams had dared comfort the homeless soul sprawled out on the grassy hill. Wiggling her nose, she finally pried her eyes open and found a majestic view there to greet her at the beginning of the unknown. Her hands and fingers twitched, feeling the gentle silky grass under her bare skin, almost tricking her into feeling secure.

Almost.

The woman with the dreadlocks and pale skin remained where she was, laying in a pool of emerald glitter and overlooking a sky filled with purple, blue and hints of orange. The woman inhaled deeply and fully, allowing the fresh scents to fully nestle themselves inside of her mind. This wasn’t home, this wasn’t even Chicago, no this wasn’t even Earth. Being a woman of logic and clarity, she found the idea more intriguing than anything. As she pushed herself up by pushing her weight into her arms, she remembered what had happened before she had opened her eyes to such beauty. There had been chaos and fire and pain, so much pain and panic and fear. Looking down, she saw her clothes were unchanged and she pushed her mind further back into the past, hoping to find answers there.

She had gotten up and gone to Decatur Classical School where she worked. It was a very prestigious elementary school in Chicago and it’s where she worked with the children to help them develop and foster a sound mind to carry them through their rigorous education. She had taken the afternoon off to make a trip back to her university, as she was giving a lecture to some incoming and potential students. After driving to Loyola University, she parked and got her badge and made her way towards the designated lecture hall. Seeing the campus brought back a lot of memories for the twenty-seven year old. Before she could reminisce about the waning days of her youth, she found herself standing in front of the door. She pulled it open and felt pleased to see the turnout.

An hour later and ten minutes later, she was getting ready to leave and grab a late lunch at the restaurant on campus when she smelled something. Turning down toward the left side of the platform, she saw there was a fire which had been caused by someone’s cigarette. Before she could find a way to contain it, panic broke out around as the massive gathering of people began to fling common sense out the window. They were all running toward the door. Many of those in attendance were seventeen and eighteen, just babies. The woman moved toward the exit, hoping to calm the crowd down and direct them in a more safe and orderly fashion but she got pushed to the ground during the pushing and shoving and as everyone ran out, screaming, their feet kept her pinning to the red carpet. Her pleas for help weren’t able to carry over the fire and the people marching atop the psychologist’s petite body. That’s when it hit her, she had died and she was now somewhere else, without anymore pain or grief.

Getting to her feet, she got a better view of the breathtaking landscape. There was a river, small but delicately formed rock structures, and even in the sky, there were castles and mounds of land in the sky, seemingly suspended by bridges and gravity. Looking down, she assessed once again her attire was unchanged. She had on a pair of dark tight jeans, brown ankle boots, a gray tank top and over that, a merlot colored lace long sleeve shirt. Bringing a hand to her black glasses, she turned and saw she wasn’t the only one in new territory. “Hey, hey guys.” She spoke up, reaffirming herself as someone who could take charge. And right now, she needed answers. “Guys, wake up, come on!” She urged, her voice clear and positive, rather than gruff and annoyed as some might expect from the first person to wake up on another planet.

The darkness inside William's mind was thick and inky. In that place where memory and sensation war against what is real, what is present, William was still drowning. His lungs burned, and every bit of him felt as if the icy water was the prickle of tiny needles. He remembered fighting, for his life really, against broken glass and twisted metal. He could feel, still, that animalistic urge that propelled him upwards, that made him thrash and push and shove until he had used up what precious store of oxygen his muscles had retained. And then there was darkness, and quiet, and the strangest moment where the lights far above, over the surface, shimmered. William had thought of his son, then, realizing in some obtuse way that he wouldn't be there to see him grow into a man. And in that way in which time stands still, he remembered.

In an instant, a flash of color and life, he recalled how he had gotten here, and wondered what he might have done differently to avoid it.

William had lost his wife the first time she caught him with someone else, a guy William had met at a bar of all places, while having drinks with his partner and a few other people from the precinct. The married detective hadn't realized his occasional, errant thought of appreciation for the male physique had run so deeply until he awoke the next morning with a killer hangover and the memory of his wife's face, twisted in shock and hurt. Divorce had been quick and simple because he hadn't fought her over anything - what right did he have? He got his kid every other weekend and for a month of summer, plus some holidays. She didn't ask for alimony, too proud for that, and so life had just shifted back into some strange version of bachelorhood. William was a damned good detective, and it had been easy to throw himself into his work, and that was how he had met Julian.

The cute little frat boy had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, on the witness end of a convenience store robbery-turned homicide. William had a hard rule about getting involved with anyone he met while working, but he couldn't really resist the overtures the college sophomore had eventually made when William kept returning with more questions, and more still. He was witty and smart, and beautiful in a way William had never allowed himself to consciously recognize as attractive. Perhaps most appealing was the fact that Julian was completely at ease with who he was, and it helped soothe the awkward uncertainty William felt about engaging a relationship such as this while sober. They'd quickly and easily fallen into a pattern that William could deal with. After all, the sex was great, and Julian seemed content with that and little more. Until he wanted more, anyway. William enjoyed his little friend, but he certainly wasn't in love with him. He missed all the blaring sirens that announced Julian's changing feelings for him, even when the young little thing began to push for more time, for things like public outings and movies and things that felt strangely like dates. The detective tried to be a good sport about it all, but the day Julian had coaxed him to the farmer's market and conveniently ran into a cluster of friends there, to whom he introduced William as his boyfriend, complete with attempted hand-holding and all, William had to draw the line.

He'd miss those sleek little hips, but he had already failed at marriage, and had no real interest in doing this heartfelt stuff again. He was a generous lover, but that was all he had to give. And so he had carefully composed a brief e-mail to Julian, explaining that he just couldn't keep up anymore. Work and all, you know. It had been fun, and he certainly wished the college student well in all of his future endeavors. William had walked away from his desk that afternoon thinking it was all over, and he was more worried about figuring out who had sliced through an entire family on 4th St. than he was about Julian, or what he might do. When the kid had pulled up and asked him to talk, all teary-eyed and broken-hearted, William had felt a little guilty for his part in the whole debacle and had acquiesced. Maybe he could talk the boy down, help him see that William really wasn't good for him at all. There were much bigger fish in the sea, and all that. Except that Julian wasn't hearing it. His wild professions of love could not be thwarted and, realizing that William wasn't receiving it at all, the kid had decided that careening the vehicle off a bridge and into the icy river below was a better option than living without his detective lover.

Rather climatic end to a prolonged tryst, thus were the events that preluded William's stirring in this new place. He heard the sticky sweet voice of a female calling, and his mind grappled for consciousness. He awoke with a great gasp, expecting to find himself at the bottom of the river somewhere. Instead the sight that swam into focus was so wildly different that he couldn't even begin to parse together what was happening. He scrambled to his feet, one hand at his throat, as if the water would somehow swim back in again if he didn't protect it.

"What the hell?" he managed, surprised to find that his voice sounded completely normal. And he wasn't wet. No, not at all. He was dressed as he had been before he had ever met Julian, jeans and a button down, his favorite jacket. But he was dry, completely dry, and his mind just couldn't wrap around this. This, or the woman standing nearby, or the others apparently stirring from their own slumber. Or the fucking castles in the sky, the damned colors that made no sense. It had been a long time since William had thought about God, or heaven, but if this place had a name - certainly it was that? But how the holy hell had he ended up here, if it was heaven?

"Where are we?" he said, more directly this time, less incoherent rambling.

As the rushing train ran its course, Alice thought that she would have more poetic thoughts brewing in her mind than last week’s grocery list and her cat’s face. It was the end; she was all dried out. There was no more room in her heart for fear, only exhaustion. The gristly remains she would leave behind on the tracks would be gone in a few hours, crushed to pieces by cold steel and hosed away by a crew of unlucky maintenance workers. Or maybe they didn’t care – it was easy enough to pretend that the pieces of meat belonged to a cow, or some goat dumb enough to cross the tracks at the wrong time. But all that was over now.

The unending cycle of agony, self-pity, and vitriol had finally ceased to exist. Alice was dead, and that was all she wanted, really. A clean emptiness made her chest feel light and her heart whole. It was an approximation of happiness. She always had to rely on approximates; a yardstick for happiness was relative, and quite frankly, she had never had much experience with the real thing.

Being an artist was supposed to be a liberating and soul-enriching experience, but sometimes Alice felt that with each animal she forged and sculpted, they took a piece of herself with them. And the more beautiful they were, the more they took. Alice didn’t want to disappear. But she didn’t want to stop, either. In the end, she took the coward’s way out – a poor compromise that made everybody feel unresolved.

But it would have to do. There was no way back now, anyway.

Alice opened her eyes. An alien sky greeted her and beneath her grew the greenest grass she had ever seen. Alice closed her eyes, then opened them once more. The vision did not go away; it was real. It was also beautiful.

Gradually, her senses came to her. She heard voices nearby and turned her head. There were people. They were talking, and Alice decided to speak up as well. Her throat was less hoarse than it had always been back on the mortal plane, but a certain roughness still blurred the edges, the mark of smoking unfiltered cloves for years.

Still lying down, she spoke to the others. A man had asked whether they were in heaven, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Heaven’s really boring, isn’t it? They didn't even bother to welcome us.”

She eyed the woman nearby; full of energy, for someone so newly dead. The man seemed a more somber sort.

Low playing music sounded in the car, as Daniel drove home. He didn't want it loud, as his head was already pounding. His mind was all over the place. Life hadn't been to nice to him in his 26 years on earth. He lost his mother and father young. His grandparents passed away shortly after that, and his brother... well his brother just didn't talk to him. More recently, the girl he loved, cheated on him, and left him.

With a sigh, he sped up. It was dark outside now. The moonlight glowing off the desert mountains, the dust around looking as though it were ghosts surrounding the roads.

He was on his way back from visiting his parents grave site. It was a bit out of town, but he was off work tonight at the bar, and had nothing better to do, so he decided to grab a bottle, and go have a drink with his parents. He had divulged everything to his 'parents' like a scared child would do. Even after he decided to get going and drive home. His mind kept repeating everything he told them. He wasn't a weak individual by any means, but he had moments. Tonight was one of them. Heavily inebriated, with his mind running from depression, to anger, to despair, to thinking everything would be okay, to thinking why was he spared, when he had lost so many people, why did he have to endure so much? 'Why me.... why do I have to deal with so much bullshit... my brother... he's doing fine... job, wife, kids....but me... I'm fucked... everything I touch dies...withers. .. turns to ash.' It's thoughts like these that clouded his mind.

That's probably why he didn't notice the sign saying to slow down. He had driven there countless times, he was just never drunk on the way home. Coming up, you had to slow down, as there was hairpin turns that led up the mountain. His foot pushed the accelerator down, and by the time he realized what was happening, his car had already pushed through the highway block. His hands gripped the wheel as the car shot off the mountain side, and his eyes widened with fear. It was a long way down, and the car was now completely vertical. Daniel didn't even close his eyes, as his stomach tightened. He knew this was it, the rocky mountain side was coming fast, and then, the car hit, and was mangled alongside the rocks, and rolled all the way to the bottom. When it finally came to a stop, it looked like a crushed soda can. Inside... well let's just say the inside wasn't pretty. Just like that, everything was black. No pain, no nothing.

'What the hell....' Daniel thought, as he laid there. His last thought, a mountain rushing towards him, his fate sealed. His eyes still closed, his hand ran towards his forehead, and he groaned. 'Seriously... what the hell... ugh I'm not drinking ever again." He thought. He heard people around them, but was hungover enough not to realize what they were saying. He stretched his body and opened his eyes. As soon as he did, he shot up, "Wh-what the hell!?" He shouted, taking in all the colors. He had no clue where he was, but the scenery was like something out of a videogame. The hues of the sky, the floating lands above, it was a lot to take in, and it sobered him right the hell up. 'What hangover...'

He noticed the others talking, as he checked himself. No bruises, broken bones, no injuries. "Not even... a scratch." He murmured as he stood up. He took a moment to inspect himself, he was wearing a simple white t shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of black shoes. Reaching his chest, his necklace was still on too, it was just a small memento of his parents. A gift from his father that meant a lot to him. His body actually felt extremely good, better than usual. He lifted his shirt, and looked at his belly, and chest. "Everything is normal...." he said, as his tattoos were still there, along with the ones on his shoulders. Putting his shirt down, he turned towards the people talking. They seemed to be just as lost as he was.

Looking at them, it was kind of a motley little crew. Himself included. 'What's going on... why... why are we here? Where are we...' he thought running his hand through his hair, and then to his beard. 'Why ain't I dead....'

He walked to the group who were asking questions, and threw another couple in the mix. "First of all... hi." He said somewhat sarcastically, in a joking matter. He smiled, "Yes, where are we... why are we here..." he gave them all one last look over, "...and who the hell are you people?"

He wasn't sure if they had 'died' like he did, but he was quiet on that detail for now.

The air along the ground was warm as it blew past in a soothing lackadaisical manner. Students were milling about enjoying the weather and company of their fellows. Up above on top of a nearby dorm building the wind was a bit more energetic and the air warmer as the noon sun beat down. On this dorm stood one of the university's professors of philosophy, a Mr. Vincent Williams. Quite often he would let himself up onto the roof, it was a place where he could enjoy a view of the whole campus and the nice fresh air. Today though he had a different motivation in his excursion to this secluded spot.

He had determined that today was to be the day, would cement his name in history, hopefully. Just earlier in the day, between his first to classes of the day, he had received an email from a publishing company. A few weeks prior he had submitted a manuscript to them in hopes that they would publish his work of philosophical inquiry through the use of a novel, and it was with delight that when Vincent read the email that he learned of their intent to publish it. In fact as he stood on the roof he clutched under his right arm the first manuscript he had made of his novel.

With this most recent achievement he felt that he was at the peak of his life, he had loved truly, done what he truly loved for a living, created something of meaning, and now he planned to insure he would be remembered. Stepping up to the edge of the building Professor Williams felt a nervousness well up inside, yet a giddiness as well. While yes the prospect of death, and the subsequent oblivion and nothingness that he was certain followed terrified him, he was even more petrified by the fear of being forgotten. To him the very idea of slowly fading into the background, was worse than any death he could imagine. Looking down at the concrete below he took a deep breath, surely this act would make sure his name would remain known, even if just a footnote on another's paper he would be satisfied.

Taking a small step over the edge he let the world go. The air whistled by his ears carrying the exclamations of those bearing witness to his actions. Falling he couldn't help but let his mind wonder at this sensation, it was more than mere falling it was freeing, his mind had clarity that he had never known before. His only coherent thought left being his only wish for the future, Remember.' Then in an instant it was gone as was the jubilant philosophy professor, leaving behind only a body, questions, and a slightly bloodied and bent copy of his yet to be released novel, on which a quote from Robert Tilley lay displayed "As to why an atheist should fear death is a puzzle, for there is literally nothing to fear. But for the religious it is different. It is the truly religious who fear death, not because they fear an abyss but because they know there is a God and there is judgment."

Groggy, if he had to pick one word to describe how he felt at the moment it would be that. Slowly opening his eyes to the light that pressed against them, Vincent expected to find himself in his bedroom awaking from his rather realistic dream. This however was not the case, he instead was confronted with the bright sky above in which hung masses of land, as if they were stars at night. Taking a moment to look about as he sat up he gazed about, finding within his view other people. Debating for a moment he stood figuring that perhaps he was still dreaming, after all he was upon self-inspection still wearing the clothes from when he fell, his suit and his laughably atrocious butterfly tie. Plus, he couldn't have died, like he had in the dream he clearly wasn't dead. Maybe, he survived and it was a coma dream, either way he was apparently going to be here until he woke. Figuring he might as well embrace whatever the hell this is, Vincent approached the others calling out, "I'm not the only one completely lost here, am I?"

“You’re making a scene, sweetheart.” Ophelia whispered through a gritted smile at Nathanial, her fiancé of only eight months. Pain surged as his strong hand tightly clutched onto her wrist above a gold rimmed plate on a pristine dining table. Worried eyes and arched brows were cast their way at the exclusive Milan restaurant. Soft murmurs began to linger though a tension filled atmosphere this duo had created. Their relationship was turbulent no less but damn-was it fiery. Once that massive diamond ring slid on her finger was when this dashing older fellow became less romantic and more possessive, however. He was forty seven-nearly twice her age but resembled a smoldering Daniel Craig. Instead of dating the typical arrogant young male entrepreneurs she choose stability instead for once but things are not always what they seem.

Lately his jealous rages had begun to turn slightly aggressive with pulls and shoves, though nothing more than that. Tonight was the first time he had caused physical discomfort; surely this would bruise her fair skin. “Nathan, please.” She nearly whimpered while staring pleadingly into frenzied filled eyes. A kind of look she had never seen before from him…a look that could kill, and that’s when he suddenly let go. His anger vanishing just as rapidly as it emerged. “I’ll meet you upstairs in the suite alright, we can talk there.” She suggested before elegantly rising and planting a ginger kiss on his lightly wrinkled forehead. Nathanial faintly nodded while reaching for his after dinner drink in a crystal snifter glass like nothing had even happened.

Ophelia flashed a fake smile at the guests in the room while exiting to the nearest elevator, smoky hues glazing over with tears all the while. One managed to cascade down her rouged cheek as her manicured finger pushed the button to the 200th floor. Feelings of fear and confusion were running through her mind while ascending up the many levels. Sometime during the travel she must have fallen asleep against the marbled wall. A quaint elevator ding awoke the drowsy woman who felt the night’s alcohol beginning to take an effect, and she shook her head before stepping out to make way inside the expensive suite.

She poured a glass a wine after letting herself in and waited for the unwanted company on the ivory sofa. Honestly not looking forward to rekindling this feud that would surely start right where it had previously left off but hours passed it seemed. With still no sign of her fiancé glossy eyes looked at the empty bottle before drifting off to a lightly tipsy slumber. Something startled the model awake soon after, a sudden shadow blocking out the light. Nathanial was standing over her limp body wearing a distantly void expression. It was much different from the one in the restaurant downstairs. No words exchanged before he reached down to cradle her, softly pulling her body forward into an embrace. Sighing lightly, Ophelia felt relieved that he was not angry and began to open her mouth to speak before a sharp sensation drove into her side.

Literally stabbed in the back Ophelia could feel her life essence flowing from her as he continued to express his hatred. This was a very intimate killing and a very brutal way to die. She felt everything until adrenaline kicked in. Why are you doing this to me? She thought while resisting but her struggles were futile and her screams were silent to her assailant. Descending into an almost tranquil demise she never turned her gaze away from him until the world itself disappeared in a haze.

Dark eyes fluttered open and hands instantly roamed over her torso and lower back in panic to discover no holes or blood seeping down her flesh or canary yellow outfit. It was not until after this discovery that her senses took in this new location. So bright and bursting with life, Ophelia could not help but let her gaze follow the voices coming from behind her. A group discussing questions she herself had, and she desired to join in and ask a few herself. Before meeting this odd crowd she took a moment to adjust, still traumatized from the vision or dream. Not knowing how to feel or act she decided to play a façade as she always did. Don’t shed a tear; don’t think about it she chanted in the back of her head before finally being able to push forward.

Her designer baby doll cocktail dress remained intact though not exactly attire she would have chosen for such an entrance. None-the-less she was going to be greeting everyone in formal apparel instead of a Victoria’s Secret sleeping shirt, thank the goddess. Ophelia quickly gauged the situation and stood to walk but her platform heels kept sinking into the dirt with each step. Impulsively she kicked them off and strolled through warm blades of grass barefoot with French manicured toes. The notion of leaving behind a pair of 5,000 dollar shoes meant absolutely nothing at that moment. She had to figure out how to leave and get back to work immediately and turn her fiancé in for attempted manslaughter. After all, she loved her life.

“Um, blessed be everyone and sorry to interrupt-but any small chance this group knows the way out? I mean, it’s a lovely place and all but…I, can’t possibly stay here. We, can’t…right?” Ophelia asked in a hopeful yet quizzical tone because she did not believe in places like heaven so, an exit must be plausible.

"Ai, when are we gonna go to the fair?"

"This weekend."

"But you said that last week..."

Zach rolled his eyes in annoyance and sighed, placing a rough hand on top of his little brother's head as they walked down the grey, empty sidewalk lining the street towards their parents' apartment.

"Some stuff came up. Let's just get home and we can play some League, alright?" he said, ruffling the child's hair with a bored expression on his face. The seven-year-old glowered at him, with an anger that only a child who'd been told 'not now' could muster, before running off ahead down the old byroad, only stopping at the end of the street corner.

"Fine!" the boy shouted, jogging in place, "I'll race you back home, then!"

And with that, he dashed out of sight, no heed given to Zach shouting at him to wait up. The older male let out a single huff of irritation, before smiling slightly and jogging to catch up. It was a cold, grey morning, the frosty air catching in his lungs as his breathing grew a little heavier from the exercise. Decent weather, as far as mornings went. He and his brother were out for their morning walk, a sort of daily ritual for them whenever Zach was home from university, and the little altercation they'd just had was also a somewhat regular thing. So many things his younger counterpart wanted to do with him, so little time to spend. Well, at least he seemed to enjoy the time they did spend together...

"I just hope you don't lose that spirit when you get older, little bro," Zach thought to himself, making it to the bend. It was these kinds of thoughts that had him contemplating his life so much, lately; when did he lose that fire? That enthusiasm? He wasn't really sure. All he knew was that when his little brother set down on his own path in life, he would do anything he could to prevent that fire from going out in him.

A forlorn sigh escaped from the young man's lips as he turned the corner. He really shouldn't complain - it wasn't as if he wasn't happy. He had a few scholarships that were paying his way through school, and his relationship with his parents was a lot better than most people he knew, his age. Getting solid grades in a solid Computer Science major, even having some work experience with the internships he completed over the summer, there was really no way he couldn't be content with his life.

"But what happened to when I wanted to do things?"

The thought pestered him even as he saw his brother about to cross the street to their apartment complex, something he would've scolded him for since he didn't look both ways. He was content... but, no, it wasn't even that. He just accepted how things were. Simply thought that it could be worse. When did he start thinking like that? Things could be better, too.

Regret. It wasn't very strong, but the feeling was definitely there. There were so many things he wanted to do when he was little: become an astronaut, a scientist, a chef, a firefighter. Some of the more grandiose dreams naturally died out as reality set in, but there were plenty of things to strive for other than 'President' and 'Rock Star'. But then, those dreams, too, slowly died, as the down-to-earth guidance of his parents gently weeded them out.

"A painter? Honey, why not something more practical?"

"Novelists take some big risks. Maybe try engineering, instead?"

His teenage life was basically a long list of parental suggestions, like that, and over time, he let the pressure sway him. He wasn't bitter about it, though. In fact, if you asked him now, he'd wholeheartedly agree that it'd be pretty hard to make it as something like a studio artist. But, then again, it wasn't always about the money, with him. What if he'd tried...?

Before he could delve any further into this thoughts, however, the sudden squealing of tires broke him out of his self-reflection, instantly drawing his gaze to the side. It was an old, black sedan, coming around the curve at highly illegal speeds.

"The hell, a drunk driver?" Zach wondered, but he was already in motion, sprinting towards his brother with speed like he was possessed. The street was narrow; his brother jumped up in surprise, looking to what had made the noise, but the car was already almost on him-

And then a loud, sickening thud rang out, Zach flying through the air as the sound of screeching brakes filled his ears. The pain that immediately began to wrack his body rendered him numb to any tactile sensation, but a sudden stop in motion told him he was on the ground, and he slowly looked up with his rapidly blurring vision to see his brother safe on the other sidewalk, pushed to the side by his herculean effort. Safe. But, now... he was going to die, wasn't he? It was funny, though - even as he felt his life fading away, his blood seeping into his eyes, a feeing akin to relief washed over him. Was this really what dying felt like? Somehow, he'd always thought it would feel more dramatic.

"We still haven't gone to that fair, yet..." he thought, a sudden pang of regret making its way through his relief. Well, life was tough, wasn't it? Though, he supposed he was dead, now. The young man took one last, weak look at the grey skies tinted red, imagining what it might be like on the other side... and it was there that he breathed his last.

***

...Or so he thought.

Seemingly moments after his grisly 'death', Zach's eyes shot wide open as the scent of greenery and fresh air assailed his nostrils. Not exactly a smell you come across every day, in the big city. He took a moment to feel out the soft grass he lay on, waiting as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight of wherever it was he found himself, at the moment. As he came about, however, he began hearing voices surrounding him, muffled at first, but becoming more coherent with every passing second as his senses slowly returned to functioning levels. Most of what he was hearing boiled down to "where are we?" and "who are you people?", two questions that he would really like to know the answers to, himself. He wasn't much of a lucid dreamer, so this couldn't have been a dream... right? And him getting hit by that car... that definitely happened. So, where was he now?

Gently picking himself up into a sitting position, he took a look around. A huge, grassy plain, with a river running off in the distance, though perhaps the most noticeable feature of his surroundings were the giant landmasses floating up in the sky. Weird. The people whose voices he heard were standing a little ways away from him, and judging by the questions and puzzled faces, they didn't know any more than he did. Was he dead? He looked down to his hands, seeing the familiar tan appendages partially covered by what he confirmed was his favorite, cotton long-sleeve. He was wearing jeans, too, though his shoes were conspicuously missing. Not that he minded; he liked walking around bare-foot more, anyway.

Shaking his head, Zach got up to his feet, shuffling his way over to where the group of individuals were talking, though he kept some distance away out of habit. He raised a hand in greetings, more to just announce his presence than anything else, and waited for someone, if anyone, to come out and explain the situation. Just what was going on...?

Audric walked back to the last of the tables in his section as the group of five shuffled lazily toward the foyer. "Thanks folks, have a wonderful evening!", he shouted after them as enthusiastically as he could muster. One of the two girls glanced back and smiled a warm smile. He waved goodbye, and she half-waved back. The group must have been around his age. They were talking about college but they had used too many 'were'-s and 'was'-s to still be attending, Audric thought. He started to move the dishes and silverware around on the table, organizing everything the way he always did. Audric espied his tip underneath a glass and did the math in his head to figure out how fair it was. Fifteen percent, maybe a little more; fair enough on a $150 bill. As he dropped all the silverware into one of the more empty glasses, he noticed the sound of rain outside falling lightly as the group opened the door to leave. Audric loved the rain. He loved to stare out of the windows as the cars passed by and watch the lights refract from one side to the other of every raindrop on the window. He'd stare for so long that his eyes would go out of focus and it would all smear together in a blur of moving lights...

...Audric? .........Audric? Hello?...

"Ah! Sorry, Sarah." Sarah was Audric's upstairs neighbor and the maître d' of La Maison, the restaurant where they worked. Audric gave her rides home on his scooter whenever they worked together to save her bus fare. She looked at him quizzically and asked, "Are you going to stare out there all night or are you going to finish bussing this so I can go home?" Audric laughed, picking up the first pile of plates and salad bowls. "On it boss!", he said jokingly as he walked back towards the kitchen. Sarah shouted after him, "Hurry up, boy!" Audric glanced over his shoulder and frowned exaggeratedly, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Audric dumped the pile of dishes into the soap foam-filled sink. Maybe this'll be the night, he thought.

Sarah had been the first friend that Audric had made since moving into town, and he had begun to fall for her since getting to know her. She was perfect for Audric. She never pried too much and she was okay with him being quiet, but she also made attempts to get him out of his shell. Whether willing to admit it or not, she had made Audric most of the friends that he had here. He wanted desperately to ask her out on a date, but was afraid to lose his best friend above all else.

As he walked back toward the swinging kitchen door, Audric glimpsed something through the tiny plastic window that made his heart sink, and his eyes widen with panic and fear. Sarah was being held from behind with a gun to her head by a man with a mask on. The man's hand was around her throat. Audric ducked out of sight, fairly sure that the man hadn't seen him.

"Marco! Get out here you little shit!" the man shouted angrily, spit flying over Sarah's shoulder. "You think I wasn't gonna find you?! You think I'm some kinda idiot Marco?! Get the fuck out here before I splatter this little girl's brains on the carpet, Marco!"

Marco was the sous chef, and a 'scraggly little sketchball' as Sarah described him when Audric had first got the job. Audric half-crawled to where he could see Marco, ducking behind his prep counter. "What the fuck did you do?" Audric half-whispered to him across the kitchen. Marco shot him a look, clearly terrified and confused, but fully aware of who this man was and what he wanted. Before Audric could piece together what was happening, Marco sprinted for the door to the basement, staying crouched as well as he could. Audric sat there, leaned against the prep fridge, trying to figure out how to get Sarah away from the man with the gun. Then it dawned on him. Marco was running for the door in the back, where they made deliveries. He was going to sacrifice Sarah for his chance to get away.

"I'm gonna give you 'til the count of ten to get out before I start shootin', Marco. It's up to you whether this girl lives or dies!... ONE!"

The next few moments were a blur. Audric knew he couldn't come out from the kitchen, the man was waiting there and he wouldn't be able to get to Sarah quickly enough. It was too risky. He sprinted down the wooden stairs into the pantry and past the walk-in cooler. Rounded the corner at full speed with his hand on the rack to his right, pulling it down as he went past. He slammed into the door at full force with his shoulder and the flimsy handle gave out. The door swung open and he turned down the alley. In his head, the image of that first feeble handshake with Sarah played over and over. Just a few more feet now, come on. Audric looked down at his shoes, willing his feet to push the ground from under him faster, he had to move faster.

"...NINE..."

As Audric opened the door behind the masked man, time slowed almost to a halt. The man's head started to turn. Audric lunged for the arm with the gun, wrenching it behind the man and pointing it as best as he could away from Sarah. The man started to lose his balance with Audric's full weight on his arm. Sarah pried his hand from her throat. "Run, Sarah!" Audric screamed in a voice he had never heard himself use before. This was the most urgent message he had ever had to deliver to anyone in his life before. Audric tore at the man's arm, maybe trying to get the gun free or maybe just trying to give Sarah time to run, he wasn't sure. The door slammed shut and it was now his own life that he was fighting for. Audric managed to drag the man to his knees, but the man was strong; Audric could feel his muscles rippling in strain beneath his shirt. Before Audric had time to react, the man's hand was on his head and pushing him to the floor. The man's other hand was at his chest, the hand with the gun.

All Audric heard of the two gunshots were things like distant echoes. Everything was slowing down. The world went silent. There was a twisted burning in his chest. Everything was slowing down. He tried to think of something but his mind was blank. Everything slowed to a stop. His eyes closed.

When Audric's eyes reopened, it was like the world was twice as fast as it had been. His thoughts raced, he replayed the events that had happened. He was dead, he was sure of it. That wasn't a dream, it couldn't be, he hadn't made it home or he would have remembered it. Where had he woken up though? He hadn't expected to wake up ever again, he was dead after all.

As he stood up, Audric stretched out his limbs and it was as if they hadn't been used in years. He took in his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was, but this natural beauty didn't match anything in his memory. He took note of a group of people behind him that seemed to be discussing something. Many looked about as confused as he was. He started to walk over and realized that he was still wearing his uniform. There weren't any holes in it...

As he approached the group, he noticed that he didn't seem to be the only one overdressed, which was a bit interesting to him. There was a bit of talk about where they were and why they were here. No one seemed to have any answers. He decided not to add any more confusion to the conversation and to wait it out. Something was bound to happen, right?

Her lungs were being consumed by flames and turning into ashes. All she could breathe in was smoke and all she could breathe out was soot and the remnants of her charred insides. Eventually Wen was going to have nothing left and wind up as a corpse in the crumbled remains of her home. Coughing, (except she knew that was a bad sign because she was wasting oxygen, she was wasting precious air, wasting her life), Wen huddled in the corner of her apartment.

It was the only part of her house left that hadn't been swallowed by flames or broken to pieces from the destruction. Internally, she laughed at the fact that the only reason she was still alive was because her computer desk was placed diagonally in the corner instead of occupying it. One day's rearranging whim turned out to prolong her life what measly hours (or maybe minutes, all the smoke was making her dizzy) in the end. Wen's computer, saving her life yet again.

Sitting there, slowly being burnt to death, Wen wondered how she hadn't noticed the fire before it was too late. Putting the computer desk and all her software facing the corner away from the door and windows was probably why. The irony of the situation made her sneer, not that anybody could see it. Inevitably killed by her computers and living longer because of them, hilarious.

Actually, sneering was a bad idea and she grimaced. Wen's lips (and her skin and her hair and everything else) were cracked, stiff, and burned. The pain made her lean back against the cracking wall. Hissing, she leaned away from it. The paint was melting from the temperatures and dripping down, sticking painfully to her shirt and plastering it to her back like wax. Heh, plaster. She wheezed a bit, maybe from the pun or the smoke.

Everything was slowly burning and melting around her (like her home, her life, and herself). Wen, gripping her knees and curled into a ball, wished her inevitable death would hurry itself up. She hadn't even opened her eyes from when she first crawled into the corner. All she could rely on were her senses of sound, smell, and touch, but it was more than enough. They gave her a clear enough picture in her head.

Drip, drip, plop: paint oozing down from the walls, settling into blobs on the floor. Creaking and groaning all around her: the snapping of support beams in the walls. She could smell the flames, like spice and smoke (and glass and plastic and granite and wood and electronics, everything she had). Crackle, pop: Wen's wooden desk, turning to kindling in front of her, radiating heat. A fire in a fire. She wanted the last time she saw her apartment to be when it was still intact and beautiful, but the picture in her head was worse than the reality. It had to be.

Her ears pricked up and the hairs on her arms and legs singed. The ceiling made a creaking sound; it seemed like it was about to collapse on top of her. Finally, Wen sighed in relief. A stop to all the torture. It surprised her that she hadn't died from lack of oxygen yet. Steeling herself for her last moments alive, she snapped open her eyes and the ceiling collapsed down on top of her just as her last breath left her body.

---

Wen felt nothing. It wasn't the nothing she felt only moments before. It was the nothing of peace and health she felt currently, not the nothing of there being nothing left and her life being drained from her at an agonizing pace. No, it was the nothing of grass against her back and the warm (not heat, not burning) sunshine on her skin.

This couldn't be her next life. Anyway, for all she had thought, Wen was supposed to end up reincarnated as a baby or a tree or something. Not as herself. It was a nice surprise though. Eyes still closed, Wen realized how much she didn't want to open them. The darkness behind her lids were comforting in a way that what she last glimpsed moments ago would never be. There wasn't actually a difference between the inky blackness and the flaming brightness; they both blinded her from what she didn't want to see. It was just that the dark was cooling and wasn't going to be imprinted in her mind for a long time.

Her hands gripped the grass beneath her; if wherever she was had grass, surely it couldn't be too hostile. The place was nice though, even if Wen hadn't seen it yet. The cool grass against her bare skin; the fresh breeze ruffling her hair; actually being able to feel and smell something other than her burning home. It was time to get up though. Couldn't just stay on the grass forever.

Brown eyes slowly opened and Wen could see the sky. It was purple and blue and a little orange. Nice sky to wake up to, even if it was strange. Colors like that in the sky that weren't at sunset said a lot about wherever she was because it certainly wasn't Earth. Maybe Wen should be worried about that, but hey. New lives brought people places they've never seen; who wasn't to say she got lucky and landed in a different world?

Sitting upright, Wen gazed at her new surroundings. She noticed the other people on the same hill as her, asking about what was happening and where all of them were. Her movements were back to normal now as well. No more jerky movements and third degree burns on her skin like Wen had expected. She wasn't even wearing the same clothes as she was when she was dying which was a relief. Didn't want to scare people off with the smell of burnt cotton and polyester like she survived a fire. Instead, Wen wore her black drape front faux leather jacket, tight black jeans, black calf length buckled boots, and her much-loved galaxy top. If she had to say so, she was glad to be wearing her favorite clothes.

Getting off the ground, she patted the dirt off of herself and made her way to the cluster of people. Wen admired the surroundings along the way from the new vantage point. If she looked, she could see a river and the floating islands with castles on top of them, suspended in the air. Distantly wondering how the laws of science applied to the new plant, she stepped into the little circle of worried people and said nothing. Wen was content with letting them get the worries out before devising a plan and calmly thought back to everything that happened (this new world, her apartment burning down, her new life and her death).

The first soul to awaken and join Zephyr appeared to be a male in his mid thirties. He had dark hair but soft eyes. He seemed more coherent than he thought but she honestly had no answers for him and simply waited as the rest began to stir and breathe life back into their own functioning lungs. “Somehow I feel this isn’t quite Heaven.” She said and then noticed another person had regained consciousness. Next to awaken was a young adult female though she remained laying where she was. The third to stir was a blond male with striking blue eyes He walked over and began to ask questions as if any of them had any clue where there were or even why for that matter. Zephyr gave him a look, not sure if she appreciated his tone but she disregarded it as just someone who was confused and afraid, not necessarily hostile or really rude.

Then an older man awoke but was slower to speak, he professed similar concern and confusion but no one yet knew anything except that they weren’t dead, nor on Earth. A girl joined the cluster of people and said something achingly sweet and insisted that they couldn’t stay where they were with made the psychologist tilt her head. “Why not? It is a nice place, for now seemingly harmless.” Of course Zephyr wanted to know why and where they as well. But asking the question over and over wasn’t getting them anywhere. A male was next to get to his feet but unlike most, he remained quiet and observant, which was welcomed at the moment.

Another male appeared near them but also remained quiet and cautious. It was becoming clear that they needed to settle down and get acquainted with one another and perhaps they may share some commonality which may give them a clue as to what had happened. That was the million dollar question hanging in the air, as well as why and how. Lastly another female joined them and Zephyr felt like she could try and bring everyone together. “I think all of us are uneasy about our new found location.” She began to speak. “My name is Zephyr and the last thing I can recall is…” She swallow knowing that once she vocally admitted what happened, it would be real and not just something swimming around in her mind.

“I was trampled to death and now I am here with all of you.” She concluded, hoping her briefness would catch on. For now, she thought it would be best to be prompt She turned back around to look at the view they had. Though it was calming, it was also somehow filling her with something more than tranquility. The woman with the dreadlocks and glasses felt a small ignition of interest and even delight well up inside her very center and she wondered if this was adventure, if this was meant for them. More questions began to collect and she spun back around to give the others her attention, saving some ideas to express later on when everyone had settled down.

“Let’s just go around and introduce ourselves and try to relax.” But to her, she was already floating in an ocean of comfort and energy, both differing emotions were actuallyt not fighting in the tide but were in fact working with one another. The sensations were tickling her senses and she already knew this place was beyond Earth and anything anyone had ever known. Of course she was beginning to consider everything and everyone she had left behind. But she had to remind herself that it hadn’t been her choice to leave her life behind, that it had been an accident and human emotions that had been her downfall.

A fall perhaps...but she felt like she was soaring at the moment.

The first woman, the one Wen vaguely heard call everyone together back when she was still laying on the grass, took a more direct route then Wen had. Instead of waiting everyone out, the woman, who named herself Zephyr, took control of the situation. It was better her to take that role than Wen. Zephyr looked and sounded capable of getting the whole group to calm down and actually do something. While the others calmed down, Wen let the feelings of the different world envelop her.

Everything felt calm and vibrant like a fantastic day that was fantastic for no discernible reason. Wen felt like that when she stood on the hill and overlooked miles of unexplored land. It felt like rainy days spent indoors, curling up under blankets, being outside when snow started falling, getting fast song lyrics right the first time; it felt like relaxation and fun. Remembering what the others said before, Wen didn't really want to leave. She would be left with nothing if she ever went to Earth. Everything she held dear, even if it was a materialistic standpoint, would be burnt to ashes or melted into a twisted wreckage that tainted the memories they held for her. Why would she ever want to go back?

Wen heard the woman with dreadlocks give herself a name and listened intently after that. Interesting names always led to interesting people; she'd never heard of the name Zephyr before. Well, not out of fantasy novels. Her eyes widened when Zephyr announced her death. It seemed like it wasn't just her that died and ended up on a new planet. From that fact, it would only be a logical jump that everyone else there died as well. In a far away corner of her mind, Wen wondered how they all died. It was a decidedly morbid thought and she ignored it. If she had to talk about how she died (burned to death slowly, too much smoke in her lungs, her flesh melting-), she would be quick about it.

When Zephyr suggested introducing themselves, everyone in the circle grew quiet. Well, Wen would have to bite the bullet (maybe one of them bit a bullet) and it was better to just get it over with. "Je m'app-" she paused and switched to English, "I'm Wen and there was a fire in my apartment building." Wen spoke without pauses or any evidence of mental scarring in her voice. It was calm and polite, if a little distant but that could be summed up with the fact she was talking to strangers. The rest of the group still had to introduce themselves and Wen scooted over by Zephyr's side. The only person, as of yet, that didn't seem too worried about leaving. Wen wondered if they ever would find a way to visit Earth (and how it felt to be trampled to death by people like dust and noth-).

Looking around at the four already in the cluster when he joined, Vincent took them in. They all appeared to be a similar state, lost and confused. In fact he was just like them, he had no clue as to what was going on either. Frankly though he didn't mind, after all he hadn't believed that there was going to be anything else after his end, if that's what it truly was. He had to admit though he was still a fan of his own coma theory. Either way though Vincent decided he would embrace it, whichever it turned out to be he still had many new questions, and thoughts to follow. Questions that apparently he alone wasn't the only one asking, as was quickly determined as four more joined the group.

There was a small moment of awkwardness as the group settled down somewhat. It then wasn't long until a woman from the original four with dreadlocks spoke up. First the woman introduced herself, as Zephyr. A rather uncommon name, as far as Vincent could remember he had never once had a student with such a name, and he had seen quite a few rare names. Although it mattered not; the name does not make the person. The now named woman continued after a slight pause. Apparently she had been trampled to death, at least that us what she had said. Immediately the philosophy professor began to wonder how it happened, when she did not elaborate any further than that. He found himself asking in his head what had done the trampling people, or animals, though he had to admit either way sounded excruciating if it didn't happen quickly.

Once Zephyr suggested that the others introduce themselves another small bout of silence fell on the group. That is until another spoke up rather calmly. It appeared that Wen, as she called herself, had also died. Wen's death much like Zephyr's was rather unpleasant, a fire. Yet, sill this tale of death left the former professor with questions. Questions along the line of exactly what in the fire killed her asphyxiation, burnt alive, or perhaps crushed by falling debris. Now yes while he realized that the thoughts that drifted through his mined regarding these two young ladies' deaths may be insensitive he couldn't stop them, after all questions and thought were his forte.

"Well then it seems I'm in the same boat as you two," Vincent stated in his soothing baritone voice indicating towards the two women before continuing "Which means I assume the rest of you are too." Taking a moment the philosopher debated on how to phrase his next words. "I, myself am Vincent Williams, former professor of philosophy at Yale. My death was a result of mu own actions, I stepped off the top of a dorm building, and let gravity take its toll. Though I must admit this," he paused gesturing towards everything around them, " This is definitely not what I expected. I kind of thought it would just be done, or if my Christian friends were right I expected worse, though this place is preferable to Hell. After all it answers so many questions and creates so many more." When he finished their was a very noticeable sparkle in his eyes as he let his gaze wander and his mind do the same

Anaïs smiled softly at Ethan... Whatever the joke was supposed to mean, she hadn't quite caught it, but she laughed anyway. The boy before her was an awkward, normal guy from America who had been spending a semester in Nice, the pianist's home. He was young, but what was three or four years with your entire life ahead of you? She hadn't felt any need to tell him about her condition. She hadn't had any problems in quite some time and if he was leaving soon, he would never have to know. They walked along the paths of her favorite, little park, just far enough from the shore that most of the buildings would hide it from view, but close enough to smell the salty air as the breeze swept across the girl's own mini-paradise.

It had taken a lot of work on Ethan's, or Étan's as her accent so adorably referred to him, part to convince her that they could at least hold hands when they took a walk. She was glad he had, too. He managed on nearly a daily basis to make her feel like she could express herself in real terms of communication, rather than keeping to herself and her music. Around her neck, she wore a lucky rabbit's foot of white on a small chain. The trinket was undoubtedly fake, but it was special to her. Usually, it ended up tucked beneath whichever scarf she chose on a particular day, just as it was today. A regular day in her regular, beautiful city with a guy she liked more than she ought to. She cleared her throat as the silence grew and looked up, releasing a deep sigh as she tried to regain her balance. She didn't want Ethan to see her experiencing another bout of vertigo; it had already happened twice prior during the walk and it was such a lovely day... worrying him would only cause undue distress. No dice.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, tightening his grip on her hand, "You need to sit down?"

She laughed; his vocabulary was perfect, but the boy had no tongue for the subtleties of the language. "I'm okay... But, yeah, I guess we can sit," She said, deciding not to argue. Rather than taking the bench from a mother and the baby she was trying to calm, the two of them found a seat beside a tree in the soft grass. "Just a bit light-headed is all, it happens, I probably just need to eat... You know how I forget," She reminded him. As her head gently laid against the tree trunk, she already felt sleep coming. A nap did sound wonderful, didn't it? "I think I'm gonna fall asleep... Do you mind?" She asked.

"Of course not, lay down, we've got all day, right?" The boy pointed out with a warming smile. As Anaïs lied down, she placed her head in his lap; it wouldn't be long beefore she'd be too old for naps in the park and crushes. But sitting and thinking about the future was never on her to-do list, it was undue worry. She gave herself enough stress as it was and today was a day of having none of it. She closed her eyes, feeling content between sleep and waking. She listened to the soft whistle of the wind, the coos of a mother and her child, the yipping of dogs large and small... "Je t'aime," Ethan said quietly, believing she was asleep. The corners of her mouth perked up slightly, but she made no response otherwise, letting him think she was still under as her stomach filled with butterflies and her heart gave a little flutter...

Thump... Thump thump thump.... Thumpthump... thump...

It fluttered again and she felt something tightening. Breathe, she reminded herself. Slowly, calm down... Calm down... let the ICB do it's job. She told herself reassuringly. Her breathing became more focused to the point that it was noticeable in the way she was trying to control it. Ethan, however, thought she was still asleep as he relaxed against the tree himself. "Anaïs?" He started in English without looking down, "I know it's kind of a long shot... But... I was wondering if maybe you'd come back to the US with me, or come visit some time... Maybe we could figure something out to make this last? I just... really like you, and I don't want to let something die without giving it a chance to live..."

She heard his words, but they didn't make much sense... Not now... Please, not now. She clenched her eyes and choked on a breath before she felt Ethan moving under her as he looked to see her reaction. It was far from what he expected as her eyes shot open and she began to convulse slightly.

Thumpthumpthump... ... ... Thumpthump ... ... thumpthump.... thump.... thump thump th... ump....

She felt the pulsing as it fought with the device in her chest to keep her rhythm automatic. Please... She begged to whoever was listening to her mind as his words finally processed. Let me answer... She couldn't form the words as she saw the look on his face turn to dread and he pulled out from beneath her and looked around, calling for help.

"Somebody! Please, call a doctor... I-I-I don't know what's happening..." He sputtered, but his words began to run together before disappearing altogether for the girl on the ground.

Something was pressing on her chest and releasing... pushing, releasing... pushing, releasing... Waiting... What were they doing? A figure was over her, but what happened to the thumping? Black spots clouded her vision and all she could do was try to form one word. Nothing... No sound, her lips wouldn't even move. It felt like such a normal day... Everything went to black, then took shape. Why was everybody underwater now? Her eyes rolled without her controlling them... Why couldn't she move anything?

Black, white, fog... Black, foggy... Black... Black... It was over... Where the hell was she? Panic tore through her body - no, she'd wake up in an ambulance... or a hospital bed, like last time, and the doctor would give her a new medication and they'd monitor her for a while... They'd check to make sure that everything they gave her was still working and all would be fine... But what if it wasn't? What if she didn't wake up?

...

Thump, thump... Thump, thump... Thump, thump...

It was the most beautiful feeling in the world. That rhythm... It was so reassuring, but for some reason, she felt it was too... on-tempo. For a moment, she mused that perhaps they'd replaced her heart with a real metronome. It seemed to keep the pace at perfect intervals. She took a deep breath in and expected to hear her mother's excited cry, but she didn't hear anything. The wind came back and blew her hair over her face, so she passively reached up to push it away. Oh... Maybe it hadn't been so serious; she was lying in the grass, feeling the wind, after all. So that must mean that they were still in the park. But then... She didn't hear Ethan. She heard other voices, but none were recognizable and she tuned them out. Her hands softly ran over the grass around her... It was so fluffy. No sharp blades or prickly points. It was soft and silky, dulled even. For one more moment, she waited... Filling her lungs to make sure she was still intact. The rest could wait for at least a moment as her eyes slowly opened. Where was the tree? Did they move her?

Gradually, she pulled herself up and crossed her legs, rubbing at her eyes. She could have fallen asleep and stayed there for hours, but she could still hear it... Ethan's question ringing in her ears... Then his cries for a doctor... Why didn't anybody come pick her up? Or notice her sitting back up after passing out? As her eyes adjusted and she looked at the ground, feeling the soft blue-green grass running through her fingers she wondered what had caused her color vision to go so... odd. Grass wasn't usually this... blue, was it? Even if it still looked green, she knew that there was another hue mixed in there. She shook her head and finally looked around...

What?

No, seriously... What?! She gasped and slowly rose to her feet, her neon green sneakers crunching the grass gingerly. The shoes led up to her black skinny jeans, a tight white top, and a purple leather short-length jacket. She had a glittering, sheer scarf of a similar but darker colour around her neck. It was one of her nicer outfits, sure, but it had been the one she put on this morning... She thought. It was rather hard to remember. Her hand reached up to her chest and she furrowed her brow... Wait... She pulled the neckline of her shirt out for a moment and looked down. Where was the scar? She had one just around her heart for her ICB, but it wasn't there, which meant the device wasn't, which meant her heart was beating unassisted... And it was at a beat more perfectly than she could remember it ever having beaten.

The sky appeared almost lavender from this angle, with a beautiful orange and blue mixing that swirled together so perfectly... It was reminiscent of Starry Night, one of honestly few paintings she could recognize by looking at it. She was less familiar with visual art than she liked to admit, but that was an unmistakable piece. The voices behind her registered moments later and she shook off her confusion at the floating god damned castles - that was an issue for later... if she didn't get home, at least, to tell Ethan that she was okay and yes, she would love to join him, and yes, she wanted to see where their relationship could reach... But, then again... Was she okay?

It was clearly a question they were all asking, but she honestly didn't know what truly happened in the park just before she woke up. She assumed it was a heart attack, but she'd woken up before, so that wasn't quite so surprising as where she woke up. God, these people were so fast when they spoke... What were they saying? She had sort of... melded into the group without her presence being known, but now everybody was suddenly expected to introduce themselves. She shifted in her spot, trying to keep her breathing at a normal, "natural" pace, despite how quickly her mind was moving at that precise moment. In fact, attempts to look natural were so obvious that they didn't look quite so natural. They all seemed to have a story of dying, so... Logically, that would mean... It would mean that, back home, wherever home was now, Ethan watched her heart stop and, for the first time in twenty-six years, not start again. All those people in the park would see her dead; they'd never see her smile, or try to hide a laugh, or sing to her piano... No, they'd remember that day that some girl in the park decided to up and die, right there, while they were trying to have a nice day with the family. Their day would be ruined by sirens and shouting and sobbing and... Anaïs shuddered and blushed at the thought of what they would think of her now...

"Oh, uh, sorry," She said quickly, the English feeling as strange on her tongue as castles on the floating bits of ground. She could speak English, but she so rarely used it anymore that her accent seeped into her speech. "My name is Anaïs... I uh... Merde..." She looked to Wen and pointed at her heart, "J'ai fait un infarctus... Help, please?" She asked desperately, embarrassed that she lacked the knowledge for even the simplest medical terms in her second language as she rubbed the back of her neck.

While continuing to take in this highly surreal destination a sudden thought of how lovely it would be to take pictures here crept in. A cute yet unknowing purse of her lips was brought about at this silly thought. Work on the brain still? Go figure. She wondered if that would even happen again and decided not to dwell on thoughts of if but when--when she got out of here, and when her life would return to its chaotic routine. There was no use in insinuating any more panic so she continued to push the worry further to the back of her mind.

Stormy eyes watched as others wandered over to a currently good sized group. Another dressed to the nines like she was made Ophelia feel a bit more comfortable not wearing casual attire. Hues continued to scan over the many differing people with one capturing her attention in particular, previously one who was chatting with what had once been a group of five, not including herself. She caught herself in a lingering stare upon two intense pale blue eyes. Although they hadn’t exchanged a greeting yet his presence drew her in. She couldn’t place her finger on why but she finally managed to pry her gaze away, shifting to one side when a woman in glasses spoke up.

Ophelia felt herself taken aback by Zephyr’s reply and could not help but stare in silence a moment at the dreadlocked female. Why not? There was so much amiss in those two words that she could not even begin to retort. Clearly this one would not be of any help in trying to escape, and honestly why would anyone else desire to leave such a serene atmosphere? One thing was certain, the raven haired model very much wished to find a way out but would do as Zephyr suggested for now, and take a breath.

As others began to share their names along with their deaths Ophelia’s hand ran over the sparkling mega rock on her ring finger making her shoulders visibly tense. Slowly both hands were placed behind her where they rested against the slight curve of her lower back in shame. How could she share such personal information with strangers? Regardless if they all ended up here by some similar means she felt embarrassed and horrified at the fact that her own fiancé possibly attacked her. No, there would be no discussing this with…them. Yet she waited anxiously until her mouth could no longer contain words and she addressed her situation in a blurt, well, sort of.

“Strange but--I cannot recall what happened.” Words were nearly a whisper as she slightly shrugged while gingerly biting down upon her glossed lower lip. She did not look at anyone while speaking but greatly wished for this topic to change. She was struggling to remain in the group because of the awkward situation but did not know where to go. Images of her slender frame turning to run away toward one of the floating castles kept plaguing the clearly troubled female. Bare feet remained still, however, unable to move a single inch toward any which way.

“Sorry, that was rude of me to not comment on your situation Anaïs.” Ophelia seemed to perk up just a bit and smiled genuinely at the adorable foreigner. “My name is Ophelia but did something happen with your heart sweetie? Did it stop perhaps?” She threw an educated guess out there by observing Anaïs’ hand gesture and the other tales of woe--though she could still be quite wrong.

The situation snowballed. There was still the positively incomprehensible reality of all that surrounded him, the floating castles and incorrectly colored bits of the habitat, still the very strange feeling of living though he knew he was dead, and atop it all was the sudden realization that there was a whole damned troupe of them. The detective couldn't feel as inclined towards the little kumbayah session as all the others seemed, but their introductions were too important to miss. He listened half-heartedly, slinking a bit away from the crowd instead of toward it. William crouched to pluck a grade of grass from the ground beneath.

Their stories were wildly varying, with no apparent common thread.

And the grass felt different. Smooth and cool, as it should, but also more pliant somehow. Almost as if William could push it between thumb and finger and form it, shape it into something else entirely. And the dirt beneath, it was warmer than he might have imagined, heated by an alien sun and pressing against his palm like a summer day. William ran his fingers back through his hair haphazardly as he stood again, turning in an entire circle to take in their surroundings. Perhaps there was a building or something of the sort on this plane, something they could access. William had learned a long time ago that everything belonged to someone, and trying to parse together the pieces of this puzzle was a welcome distraction from the feeling of lead in his stomach, the realization that a silly, prolonged tryst with an unlikely lover had cost him everything. His career, his ambitions, his life. But, worst of all, his son. Now his kid would just be another statistic, growing up in a hard city with only one parent. Shit, how many kids did he see every day who might have turned out entirely differently if they'd just had a father around?

A cluster of flowers, a more vibrant purple than he had ever seen, crowned the top of a very small hill just behind him. William, having lost track of the introductions when the language seemed to shift to French, turned to pursue the vegetation. With more earnest efforts at motion put forth, he realized immediately that the gravitational pull of this strange place was not the same as that of earth. It reminded him a bit of fifth grade, when his entire class had gone on a field trip to a glorified planetarium. Apart from the larger than life projection of a manned mission to mars, intended to stir all of their childish curiosities and make scientists out of them, there had been simulators to ride. William had been the only one to turn green on the multi-axis trainer, but he'd kicked all of their asses on the five degrees of freedom simulator, and the manned maneuvering unit as well. He had left convinced that he should be an astronaut, and that the buoyant bounce he had felt in the 1/6th gravity chair, meant to simulate walking on the moon, was certainly his fate. He would be the first man to go to Mars.

That, of course, was a big ass dream for a poor kid in a broken home. He had forgotten about that, buried it beneath layers of responsibility and adulthood. William remembered it now, though, as each step made him feel like he might just spring away from the ground entirely. Except that he didn't, and gravity seemed as tenacious here as it had ever been on earth - just with more give. At any rate, he reached his destination with less effort than would have been required on the human plane, and the flowers were so beautiful it almost felt like sacrilege to touch them. As he watched instead, William saw drops of clear dew push up from the centers of the flower, run down the petals and stem, and pool at the base of the plant. Eventually the few drops became many, and they traced a hollowed out path through the warm soil to join the quiet flow of water back down towards the group he had left behind. It was so gradual that William hadn't noticed it, but now he wondered how he had missed the slightly metallic flow. It was beautiful, just like everything else in this place.

It was easier still to traverse the hill on the downward slope, and following after the trail of shimmering, jeweled water led him right to the center of the gathering. One Ophelia was apparently trying to interpret for the English-challenged, and William thought to simply go around them. A niggling thought in the back of his mind warned him about casting off possible allies before he had even made sense of where he was, however, and so he paused in his pursuit to glance over his shoulder and speak to the lot of them.

"Ah, I'm William. I was in a car accident, and I suppose I drowned."

How ironic that his fixed fascination in this new place so far was water, then.

"And I'm going to go check out the river," he added as an afterthought, before his eyes dropped back to his feet, to that strange grass and the sparkling water atop it.

Daniel inhaled deeply, and exhaled a heavy breath. As he listened to their stories, the ones who talked about it at least, he realized most were accidents. His sarcastic tone, and fake confidence gave way for a moment, as he ran his hand through his hair, down to his neck, resting it on his chin, resting in deep thought for a moment. He gave them all a sad looking, but genuine smile, muttering the word sorry to them.

His anxiety kicked in. His mind began to race again. He was already getting lost in his own thoughts. 'I can't tell them how I died... They don't know me... Why the fuck am I so insecure... I was a drunken idiot and drove off a cliff... Why I was drunk? Well my life wasn't exactly good... But it wasn't bad? I don't know... I miss it. Or am I scared of this uncertainty? Is any of this real? Are they my imagination? No...this is real... Oh man... I wonder if anyone gave a shit I was dead? Probably not.... Who knows? I would like to think who cares... But for some reason I do... Not that it would matter due to me being dead and all? But I feel amazing... Is this really death?' These were all of his thoughts in the moments after Zephyr mentioned to take a breath. He still had not revealed to the group how he died, but he was sure they could put two and two together, and figure that he indeed did pass away on Earth, and ended up with the rest of them. 'Why... ' He looked at this motley crew. A couple of them hadn't even said a word yet, noting the two other guys there, one looked like an average guy, while the other had a tie, and vest on. Then there was a guy with a pretty standard suit, and an ugly butterfly tie. But his tone indicated one of intelligence at least. There was an Asian girl there, who seemed entirely dry, and sarcastic, somewhat like himself in that sense. He wondered if that was a defense, a wall she put up. Then there was Zephyr, who seemed to have herself together, and when she spoke, she had a calming tone, which was nice to hear. Genuine even. Then there was another guy, who seemed a little older than the rest, worldly even. His was the voice he heard after Zephyrs when he awoke. Three more women, one in a nice black jacket, who seemed extremely calm. All them were somewhat calm actually. 'We all just fucking died for Christ's sake...' One of the others, wearing a nice yellow dress. She seemed really well spoken. High class even, 'I wonder what happened there... Usually the rich stay living...' He thought, as he looked over to the last woman, in a purple jacket and black jeans. When she eventually spoke, he realized she was French.

A few of them began to introduce themselves, which was good for Daniel, as he could put a name to their faces, as it appeared they would all be around one another for a bit. 'Zephyr, Wen, Vincent, hey that's my cousins name... Anais, Ophelia'. Daniel watched as the worldly looking guy stared off, at the most intense purple flowers he had ever seen, and introduced himself as William, and watched as he headed towards a river.

Daniel looked around again. This place that was so calming, serene, and beautiful. Turning away from the group, looking out towards the rolling hills that lay before him, their green and blue hues shining in this sun. The floating castles are what got him the most. 'Shit... Maybe we should go to one of those? Maybe someone can explain where we are....' He thought as he followed the lay of the land again. His eyes trailed up, gazing into the sky. Such beautiful colors, hues mixing even, into colors he couldn't even imagine existed. It was all very surreal. Transfixed, he took note that while yes, it seemed to be daytime, stars were twinkling still. He had always been a star gazer, 'If were remotely anywhere near home... Then...constellations should be visible.' He thought as though he had forgotten he was with the group. He didn't mean to, he just happened to be begging, looking for a sign to know where he was. 'Beautiful... But nothing...'

He turned toward the group, minus William now, and spoke, "My name is Daniel James Acosta." He said, as he gave them a whole hearted smile. He didn't know these people one bit. But it looked as though they would be around each other for a while, so might as well be friendly. "Obviously..." He said as the smile faded, and a lost look and tone came over his voice. He still didn't wanna talk about how he died. "Obviously I died." He said, still remembering that night vividly. His whole life crashing down on him. Heart broken, life broken. His friends had abandoned him, his brother didn't speak to him, and his parents were dead. 'My... Parents... I wonder if they're around...' If this was the place we came to after death, maybe he would be lucky enough to see them here. 'Probably not.'

Although he was in emotional pain, his face seemed to not show, he appeared to look as though he just had a headache. He headed in the direction William went as well, making his way towards the river. He passed by many exotic looking plants. All were beautiful, all were unique. He heard the rushing water get closer with each step he took. It was a calming sound to him, but then again... Everything here seemed to be calming. He had most track of William, as he made it to the river. The water was rushing at a decent pace, and it was so crystal clear. Even the water, something as simple as water, was beautiful here. He looked down river, and noticed the summit of a small mountain. The water was flowing up the mountain. "Well... Shits different here I guess..." He thought aloud as he jumped onto a rock a good few feet into the river, and sat down. 'This place is truly beautiful... But is it all it seems to be? I've noticed no life... The physics here are a different as well' he thought, as he sat down, and leaned to his side, putting his hand in the water. 'Cool to the touch, such a nice feeling.' He said splashing a bit, watching the water float for a second before going back. He smiled, and shook his head. 'I hope night time is as pleasant here as the day'. He brought some water up in his hand, and splashed his face. 'The water feels so nice...' He thought, as he wiped his face, making sure there was none in his beard. 'Such a nice place... But I can't help but wonder what the hell its hiding... No way is this place this nice all the time...'

Its funny, to him at least. He's sitting there wondering about this place, but in the back of his mind, he thought of home. Sure, it wasn't the best place, and of course he was going through some stuff, but he did miss it. His love, had broken him, sending him spiraling down, all the way down, off of a cliff. Literally. But after all of that, he couldn't help but still feel alone. Sure, there were these people around him, but he felt as though he were an island in the middle of the ocean. Sitting there, he put his elbows to his knees, and hung his head in his hands. "The fuck am I gonna do..." He thought aloud.

Death... It seemed like everybody that was here had died. A few were rather taciturn about it, and the lady in the fancy dress even said she didn't remember what had happened, but from the awkward way she held herself, Zach assumed that she just didn't want to talk about it. That could've just been his bad habit of looking into things too deeply, though, and even if he was right, he could understand why she might've been uncomfortable. Some deaths could be rather... grisly, he imagined.

So, he was dead. Somehow, the thought hadn't quite registered with him, yet, but confronted with these people talking about how they died, well, he couldn't exactly ignore the fact, now. What was he gonna do...? Thinking about it, he hadn't really accomplished much while he was alive; he got good grades in school, but what the hell were grades compared to actually doing something with your life? There were so many things he could've done, and now he couldn't.

And then there was his brother. Yeah, his parents would probably be sad, too, but he was more worried about how this would affect little Omi. Zach didn't like to admit it to himself, but he was something of a role model to his little brother, and that wasn't just him looking into things too deeply. He could see the younger version of himself picking up certain habits from him everyday, like walking up to the fridge just to see what was inside and swearing like a sailor when playing online games (though it was thankfully still limited to things like 'fudge' - he really needed to cut back on the vulgar language...). It was bad enough seeing how disappointed Omi got when he had to tell him he was busy; how about now, when he was dead?

"No," he thought, silently berating himself, "Just because I'm here now doesn't mean I can't go back."

Did it, though? Had he really died, or was he just in some sort of coma? He supposed he wouldn't find out by just standing here. However, as much as he wanted to run off and find some answers for himself, it was still probably best to stick with the group he found himself in, now, mostly because he had no idea what was out there. If castles here could float in the sky, who's to say there weren't things like dragons and stuff, as well? He looked up from his reverie as the round of introductions being made circled round to him, and he lightly cleared his throat as he began to speak.

"Zach. I got hit by a car," he said, simply, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible. There was a whole new world out there to explore, and nothing was gonna happen until they got this out of the way. Thinking on it, though, he probably should've been paying attention to their names... Whoops. He looked through the group, trying to at least give them some temporary nicknames so he could organize them in his head.

"Let's see... the lady who started this is Glasses. Then there's Vest guy, Dress lady, Professor..." he went on, his gaze wandering over to where two of their number had gone to examine the river.

"There's Mr. Curious, over there... Let's call him George. Plus Blondie..."

This continued for while, with him labeling them by their most striking feature. Galaxy (for her radical shirt), Frenchie (at least, he believed it was french she was speaking), Asia (nothing else really came to mind). Good enough for now, he supposed; he didn't talk much, so he figured their names would come up before he had to speak with them, personally. Now, there was just this thing about being on some alien planet...

The first thing he noticed was that there really weren't all that many of them here. Even in the short amount of time they'd been here, if this was where everyone went when they died, then they'd be counting in the hundreds, at least. So maybe they weren't really dead, after all, or there were other places people went when they kicked the bucket. But then that brought up the question of how it was decided, whether by some higher power or random distribution... he decided not to think about it too hard, yet.

So then, what about their bodies? Were they real? He could feel the grass tickling between his toes (there was something weird about it, but he couldn't quite say what), so there was that. Did he still need to breath? To eat? He tried holding his breath for a minute or two, but once he felt the burning in his lungs, he concluded that yes, he still needed oxygen. Or, was it oxygen, here?

"Overthinking things, again," he berated himself, once more. There really wasn't any certain way he could tell if he was 'alive', he supposed; all things considered, him still being alive defied any sort of conventional logic he could come up with. Still, the curiosity burned within him. How did he know he was really dead?

...How did he know if he could ever go back? So many questions...

A woman with chocolate colored hair introduced herself as Wen and was quick to elaborate that her death had been due to a fire. Zephyr recalled hearing that was one of the worst ways to die and her heart went out to the woman. Wen then scooted a bit closer to her and Zephyr offered her a comforting smile, reaching up to briefly rest a hand on Wen's back before she dropped it to listen to the next soul to speak up who was named Vincent and the in the most calm eloquent manner, said he had killed himself. He said he had been a Philosopher at Yale and she couldn't help but wonder why he might find reality so futile that he needed to leave it all behind in such a manner.

Her conflicted expression tried to find a balance between a neutral expression and one of pain and heartache. Though Zephyr didn't know anyone personally, she was quick to emphasize with them as she considered their own lives and burdens. Then a female approach the group but the girl with the black glasses had some trouble really understanding her and she was worried the barrier of communication would be an issue and might slow people down. It seemed Wen and the other girl knew how to handle her so Zephyr looked to the next man who seemed a bit incoherent or at the least, a bit disjointed with his thoughts. That was to be expected though and the other men introduced themselves and began to ponder their own situation.

After she repeated their names in her head, 'Zach, Ophelia, William, Wen, Vincent, Anais and Daniel.' She thought to herself as she looked to try and make a visual trigger with their name. She then looked to the girls who seemed connected with French and then headed down to see what William was up to. Daniel had gone in pursuit of William too and she met up with him as she looked over her shoulder at the others behind them. As much as she wanted to say something to him to get him more comfortable, she hadn't much to go on and from what she recalled from his small introduction, he didn't feel like talking. Or perhaps he was still in shock. "This place may or may not be the Afterlife, I can't say I ever believed in such a thing but I'd rather be alive somewhere than cease to exist." She said and then realized her words may have done the exact opposite of making him a friend or at least less tense.

"Sorry." She apologized.

Up ahead she saw William by the river. A small patch of brown soil was between them but as she looked over her shoulder again, Zephyr began to feel less anxious. They could still see the others and in a sense, they were still connected, regardless of distance. She ran up to William and crouched down by the small river. It was a light blue color and smelled like jasmine and honey. The woman reached out and felt the water with her finger tips. It was warm! She expecting it to be cool to the touch but instead it was the perfect temperature of tea, or hot chocolate. She looked to the boys and arched a brow. "This is so weird." Evidently the more they explored, the more weird things appeared. And yet Zephyr was getting more and more interested in their surroundings.

She got up and slipped her pointer fingertip into her mouth and tasted it. Much to her surprise it was now cool and refreshing, as opposed to warm and soothing. Was she imaging things? Looking up, she saw that a ledge wasn't too far from them. It was tall and coated in green moss as it fed water into the river. "This whole place is...amazing. Unbelievable." She smiled. and wiped her hand on her pants and let out a sigh. Up in the sky she saw something floating towards them. It was a small yellow orb and following it was a slightly smaller purple orb. Well now she had seen it all. She looked to the guys, "I'm...not imagining that am I?" She asked them, pointing to where the two balls of light tumble around the sky as they bobbed towards them.

"I think we better go see the others about this..." Zephyr said. She didn't sense anything dangerous but she figured it was still something important and they needed to be together if new information was finally going to be presented to them. "Come on." She tapped William on the shoulder and turned around to jog back up the small hill toward the others who were still around. As she turned around while jogging, now doing it backwards, she saw the orbs of light following her back. Clearly this was important. She turned back around quickly and made her way back to the others. "Hey! That river is really something, and look!" She pointed up to the small orbs of light which were floating in the air. Though she wasn't sure what they wanted or meant, it was the only possibly lead they had, somehow.

"Hello!" The purple orb said happily. "My name is Lyx."

"I'm Qyx." The yellow orb said, giggling as they began to revolve around in a circle as if playing tag with one another.

"And welcome to Thera!" They said simultaneously and stopped and lowered their altitude so they were now only a foot above the recently deceased lot. "We're here to help you find your way!" They said.

"So if you've got any questions-" Qyx began to say.

"ask away!" Lyx cut her off.

Zephyr looked to the others, certain they all had questions and all wanted to blurt them out so she decided to stay quiet for now, opting to observe and see what happened and what questions the others had for the two spheres of light who seemed rather excited to have company, despite the dark underlying circumstances.

Listening intently as the others began to say their cause of deaths and names, Wen imagined how they perished. The man named Vincent with the large glasses and worrisome sparkle in his eyes as he casually strolled off the edge of a building, air whooshing by him as he pondered what would become of him after. The curious mind of a philosopher made them do strange things, she supposed. The next woman, Anaïs, a French speaker as well as a shaky English speaker arriving at a new planet after dying slowing from cardiac arrest, maybe by herself or maybe with people to witness her last breath.

She would be able to picture it all in her head. Or not, as the woman in the yellow dress claimed she couldn't remember. Wen couldn't imagine the high-class woman's last moments if she wouldn't even divulge her secrets. Perhaps Ophelia (it was a very pretty name, maybe she died in a not so pretty way) was murdered. She seemed to be wealthy, from what Wen knew of the upper class, they tended to die very personally, from someone apathetic, or not at all. The choices were limited, Ophelia didn't try to tell them (a group of strangers, why would she even want to tell them) and Wen could only think of murder or theft.

The man named William who sneaked away earlier to the stream, only to briefly mention his name and drowning to go back to what killed him on Earth. There had been no fire yet, but Wen wondered how she would react to it if she did; she doubt she could approach her killer with the intent to study it like him. Daniel James Acosta was a helluva name for a guy who looked like he was in some deep emotional pain. He hadn't elaborated on his death as the rest of them had (why, why did she tell them how she died), and he was another blank.

And the last one, Zach with the absent-minded look about him, died from a car crash. She could just see a car careening into his immobile self in the road and his body being flung over the hood. The car would be white, to put the spots of his blood on it into sharp focus. If it was the driver's fault he died, she would have to move the mental picture of him on to the sidewalk; if it was his own fault he was hit, Wen wanted to imagine it was because he ran into the middle of the road to save someone. Yes, she almost grinned, he seemed to be a martyr and a Gryffindor and a self sacrificial death would be perfect for him.

Feeling her lips begin to quirk up, Wen wondered what was wrong with her and wiped all traces of the morbid grin from her face. Strangers in a strange place after her death, it was only natural there would be some effect of it all on her head. It was unfortunate that it brought to the surface latent homicidal intent she hadn't been aware she had.
Hands shoved into her pockets, she wandered away from the group. She had to get their deaths out of her head. Where had the beginnings of a psychopathic killer stemmed from? She strained her neck, searching for somewhere of suitable interest without the social interaction. Not the river, William and Zephyr were there, the group of people she had just left, and there was a possibility that approaching Daniel would result in her laughing in his face if he told her anything about him that hinted at his death.

Spotting the stone pillars a ways off, Wen figured they would be her best bet. Jogging towards the towering outcrop, she skidded to a stop in front of it. Panting lightly, she inspected the grass which shouldn't have had the possibility to make her slip on them until she almost flung herself headfirst at a rock. Alien grass was probably different from Earth grass, she supposed.

She tipped her head back as it was the only way to take in the entire height of the tower. Even at its shortest the pillar was at least three feet above her head. There was nothing peculiar about it at first glance. Not even its height was that interesting. Goddamn it, she ran all the way over for a shitty piece of rock. She leaned against it, catching her breath. Instead of a solid wall, her back sank into the surface. Wide-eyed, Wen slammed her hand against it and it smacked against the rock. When she only applied light pressure to it, imprints of her hands were left on the rock. She amended her thoughts, it wasn't so shitty. Impulsively she grasped a jagged edge jutting out and lightly pulled. As she expected, the rock-turned-putty was squeezed off.

Tossing her mineral sample from hand to hand, she ambled back towards Zephyr who had headed away from the river. The bespectacled woman was gesturing towards what seemed to be glowing orbs in the sky. Eyebrows raised and disbelief not fully set in, Wen got there quick enough to hear the sentient orbs introduce themselves as Qyx and Lyx as well as having them title the planet they were on. Thera was a pretty enough name for the place, even if it sounded Greek and not as otherworldly as she would have assumed.

And the orbs were even their tour guides. How kind of them to be willing to answer all their questions. Getting her question in first, she blurted out, “I died,” she flung her arms in the group's others, “and they died too.” It wasn't so much of a question now that she mulled over it over in her head.

“Why are we here? It's an amazing place, don't misunderstand me. I'd just like to know if there's a reason for being here.” Wen stared directly at Lyx, the purple orb. Qyx made her wary and yellow was never her color.

As the others in the group began to introduce themselves, Vincent listened intently memorizing their names as they spoke them. He had to admit it was quite a shame to see so many who still had things to live for, here, wherever here may be. None of the others had done anything like he had, none of them had opted out, or at least none of them said they had, though whether or not they had mattered not. While yes it appeared that each individual had died none appeared to share any other characteristics beside that. This to him was the strangest part of waking up here, not the beautiful sky, that appeared to him to look almost hand painted in the way it filled the sky, not the soft breeze that carried a soothing, yet anonymous scent to them, nor was it the large floating sections of land in the sky on which perched castles. No, it was the fact that out of all of this seeming perfectly constructed landscape, stood eight apparently deceased people. None, of who appeared to have any idea of where they were, and maybe even worse all seemed to take it in stride. Perhaps if one broke down in denial, sadness, anger, whatever it may be, maybe something would happen. Mayhap someone would step into view and yell for them to quiet, or maybe the world would shatter and this dream would dissolve, leaving only fragmented memories of this land in the head of the one awoken in the middle of the night by their odd dream.

Noticing that introductions were done and out of the way, and some of the group had already dispersed Vincent took the moment to inhale deeply through his nose. Whatever was in the air was almost addictive in scent. Turning in a circle he appraised this new world. Nowhere did he see any other people beside them, rather odd in his opinion. After all if this was apparently were the deceased came after life on Earth then why were there so few of them. Even if they had all died at the exact same time there should be more. Hmmm. Same time, now there was something. Glancing back at everyone it was obvious they were all from the same time period, but now he was curious as to how close each person was time of death wise. Though perhaps they were linked in another way, or maybe there was no connection at all maybe they were all together simply because they belonged with no one else. There was the possibility that other dead people ended up somewhere else, or maybe they woke up first and moved along, possibly died again and went somewhere else. Vincent had to wonder if this whole dying and waking on another planet, plane of existence, or whatever, happened everytime that you died, maybe if one died enough they could cycle through back to Earth.

By this time he had already sunken down to the ground and was laying down with his eyes fixed on the beautifully crafted sky, while running his fingers through the strange alien grass. Closing his eyes Vincent spoke, whether or not anyone was still around to listen he knew not, "Just going to share some thoughts here, but does anyone else wonder why only us eight are here, or whether this whole death, and awaking on a new planet thing continues on indefinitely?" Sighing quietly Vincent was quiet for a moment, before he chuckled quietly to himself. "On the bright side maybe we don't age anymore."

Before he could continue to blather away stating almost any observation that manifested itself in his head, a voice calling for them to look at something or other interrupted his thoughts. Opening his eyes Vincent glanced towards the source of the call to find Zephyr if he remembered correctly, pointing towards a pair of floating balls of light one yellow and another purple. The lights appeared to be making their way towards the general area in which the group began, and where he was currently laying. Sitting up he kept his gazed fixed upon the strange gaseous looking balls, until suddenly one spoke. Blinking a few times Vincent shook his head, he himself was rather shocked by it's capability for speech.

The two floating lights introduced themselves, how without a mouth, Vincent wasn't sure. With no hesitation the two seemingly excited orbs offered up a name for this strange new place. Thera. Vincent found himself thinking how odd it was that this two alien entities could speak English, and even how this place shared the name of a Greek island. It was then that the two creatures told them they could ask any questions if they had them. Gathering his thoughts to speak Vincent was beat to the punch by the young woman had died in the fire, Wen. After letting her ask her question the now former professor debated whether or not he needed to add anymore. Deciding to try satiate his curiosity he looked towards the pair of sentient lights and inquired, "I would very much like to know how you speak English? Are we not the first to have come here?"