Dave & Death

Dave & Death

CH. 1

On May 19th, David Fischer died. Big deal, right? People die everyday. It’s so easy most people don’t even do it on purpose. There’s nothing particularly special about David Fischer’s death, other than the fact that it didn’t take. David would be one of the few people who would die more than once. This wasn’t some half-assed clinical death where an EMT doesn’t find a heartbeat and makes a very presumptive declaration. No, David would be full on, soul leaves the body dead. He’d also be alive; it was complicated. Thankfully, David had some company for his time as both dead and alive.

The Pale Man sat on a bench waiting. That was most of his job. Waiting. To a degree, everyone was waiting until they met him. Just killing time until the inevitable moment of introduction. The light in front of him turned green, yellow, then red. Wasn’t that the pattern of it all? They all start going as fast as they could, then are forced to slow down. One day it all stops. Some stop quietly, that’s the ideal. Others stop abruptly. One day everything would stop. “Won’t that be grand?”, he thought. “But one day at a time.” Green, yellow, then red. He saw her coming. She was in a hurry. They usually were when it happened like this. Green. She’s too far, but she doesn’t know that. Shame. Yellow. She’s speeding up. He wondered why she was in such a hurry, he further wondered if she would say it was worth it if it asked. Yellow. He took out a cigarette. It would be quick. At that velocity, a seatbelt wouldn’t help. Red. She sped up. Big mistake. Maybe if it was a split second more, everything would be different. But it wasn’t. It never was. He took a drag as they collided. He walked over to the wreckage and pulled her out. He pointed to the horizon. She understood. He liked this one; they normally asked so many questions. He took another drag, waiting to sense where he would go next. “Oh.”, he thought as it came to him. “That’s new.”

David Fischer woke up, and felt the desire that everyone has upon waking up, to go back to sleep. It was a powerful desire, and might just be fulfilled. He checked his phone, one minute to the alarm. Damn. He groggily got up to pee. When finished, he reluctantly began to get dressed. It was Friday, unofficially casual day at the office. Good, he could wear jeans. Something about dressing well was unappealing to him. In his mind how you were dressed was irrelevant, as long as the job got done. He’d been deliberately told to dress better by several coworkers, close friends, and random strangers on the street. He’d consider it, maybe. Possibly. Not really. At least on more formal occasions. This train of thought was the reason David was passing through his cramped home, and not noticing his own corpse was lying by his couch. He stepped over it twice.

David began searching for his shoes. Why didn’t he just keep them in one place? Because it was easier to just take them off wherever he pleased and leave them. A perfect system if ever there was one. There! Under his bed! He put his shoes on. Sneakers. Another element of comfort. He did walk quite a bit across campus, it certainly made sense. No one had made a point of bringing up his footwear, or at least we’re polite enough not to say it to his face. They were a bit ratty. Might need to replace them soon. Even he had standards. How long were shoes supposed to last anyway? A few years he imagined. He’d had these, what? Ten years? That can’t be right. He left that question for another time and did a quick mental rundown of his day. Work, study, maybe see Alice. They hadn’t hung out in some time. Finals were brutal for her major. Should have picked something easier. Like communication. Lots you can do with a communications degree. Nothing immediately came to mind but a quick google search would remedy that. Work was set in stone, but studying could be shunted down the priority list. Then again he’d already moved it back several times and the test was….when was it again? Not a good sign, probably best to study today while he could. He’d need to see if he could combine work and study, make Alice a priority for later in the day. Work was the only thing pressing at the moment, and being late would likely mean interacting with Ira. He shuddered at the thought. Could he at least risk breakfast before heading out? David checked his phone; still a little time. He reached for the box of corn flakes and shook it. A small rattle, enough for one more meal. He found a bowl, not a clean one but the clock was ticking, and opened the fridge. Now where was the…

“You’re out of milk.”

There is a certain sense of security one gets when they are alone in their own home. The walls become part of a mental fortress where everything feels just right. Every time someone enters that fortress, a slight adjustment is required to acclimate them to the feeling of safety. If that feeling was even remotely threatened, the offending presence was usually asked to leave with the time honored phrase “well, it’s getting late”. That feeling, in an instant, lay utterly broken inside David Fischer. That was what he had to process before turning around seeing himself, lying dead in front of his couch. On the couch, sat a very sallow looking man in a suit, casually smoking a cigarette. All of this was more than enough to create an untenable sense of terror, the kind that forces your mind to scream “RUN!”, while your legs stand resolutely where they are. Yet even with all this, a stranger in his home, a corpse that appeared to be his own, the stranger openly flouting his landlord’s strict no smoking policy, what made David sure that he was in danger was the man’s eyes. They were as black as a void.