The Third Door [NaNoWriMo 2014]

"I died. Now I live. But I live within the boundaries of my head. What happens on the outside is beyond my control." Constructive criticism is very welcome on this. I will be updating in small sections, but I will probably republish this with proper chapter splits when I finish it. © 2014 Parsavagely


1. Prologue


Such a final word.

For as long as humanity has lived, they have seen death and been afraid.

Across the world, they have concocted myths and tales of afterlives and heavens. All different but all with the same message: We do not want to die.

These legends and beliefs were all created to try and make sense of a time after our own consciousness is gone. To try and understand that, inevitably, time will continue without us. They are all figments of an imagination, desperate to cling on, desperate for hope, desperate for comfort. When the dark contains no light, you have to take some with you. So the mind creates its own light, with stories and promises of new life, survival and even better times ahead.

But does anyone truly believe that?

If paradise is such a wonderful place, why do we keep holding on to life? Why would we want to survive if we knew there was an infinity of no suffering to come? As our society grows and learns more about the world we live in, it seems that these fantasies are being forgotten. It seems these idealistic views are being shot down, slowly dying out. Cultures built on the ideas of one man over two thousand years ago now ridicule those who still follow him. Nations built on views of an all-loving God now use him as an excuse to execute and discriminate. Communities once full of praise and gratitude now seek only to destroy and cause fear. Perhaps those who never believed in a life after death were the wisest.

Or maybe they saw it for what it truly is.

There is life after death, I’m not going to argue with that, how could I? But it is not paradise. It is not heaven. There are no angels, no feasts and no forgiveness. The next question, of course, is that of God.

Does God exist?

That question is always found in the same breath as the question of the afterlife. But as far as I know, if he does exist, he has nothing to do with my survival of death. The mechanics of our reality are set in stone.

I died.

Now I live.

But I live within the boundaries of my head.

What happens on the outside is beyond my control.

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