Death Count

Caleb never cared about life after death. Until he died.

For the more than this competition

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1. Prologue

Keston was a concrete city with stone pavements, slabbed with old gum and decomposing litter. The old buildings, once built never changed, had an aura of business and monotony. A vague sense of abnormality swept the minds of its inhabitance, overcome with the pointlessness of life to the point of giving it up all together. A couple of people jumped off the Keston Tower every month, it wasn't uncommon and in some ways, helped keep the population down. Eventually you would come to a point in your life when you realise that you were born in Keston and that's where you would die. Not because you couldn't leave, you could. The point was that no one could be bothered to leave. So accustomed to the unmoving life on continuity and the idea that this was all there ever would be, it was thought that it was the same everywhere else, when in fact...it wasn't. I often asked people:

Haven’t you ever felt like there has to be more? Like there’s more out there somewhere, just beyond your grasp, if you could only get to it?

And they all said they wondered occasionally but their souls were so burnt out, the capacity to try and leave was physically impossible. And sometimes I wondered if these people ever did leave, would they be able to emotionally handle the change in lifestyle? Or would they die out like fish who had been introduced to the land? I wondered this all my life. Up until the day I died.

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