I’ve been doing a lot of work on scripts and screenplays and novels lately, so the creative juices are a bit drunk. With that in mind, here’s the opening to a new novel I’m working on. Hope you like it, and I promise a return to our regularly scheduled programming soon.
“Everything changed for me the day I died.
“At first I was upset – I think that’s only natural. I mean, sixteen seems awfully young to die. I know it’s a bit of cliche, ‘she’d only just started to live,’ but I really did feel that to be true. I had a lot of plans for where I would take my life, and suddenly they were all just so many papers in the wind. But then I took a deep breath – well, not a very deep breath, because I was running out of air – and I thought, those poor people. You know, the ones who got it wrong? The ones who delivered the wrong body to the funeral home. The ones who buried a casket in the ground with a live person – (hullo) – inside. I just thought – after all, aren’t they the ones who’ll have to live with it, for the rest of their lives? Sure, I’ll be dead, but that’s pretty much the hardest part over and done with. It’s the business of going through every day afterwards that wears on you.
“That was what was going through my head the moment when I died.
“I won’t describe the gory details, because – well, they’re pretty gory. I think we’ve all seen enough movies to understand the basic biological processes of death, and suffocating isn’t the most pleasant way to go. On the plus side, it gives you a lot of time to contemplate your life – weigh up your successes and your mistakes, decide that you’ve done alright. On the other hand, it gives you a lot of time to contemplate your impending demise, and that can be – a little scary. I mean, it’s one of life’s greatest unknowns, isn’t it.
“I wish I could fill you in on what death’s like. I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject, since I got back. Unfortunately it seems, like so many of life’s greatest questions, that there isn’t just one answer. Everyone who dies, or I guess I should say almost dies, tells a different story. So I can tell you what it was like for me, and you’ll probably find it very interesting, but it doesn’t mean it will have any relevance to your life – to your death, rather.
“But here I go. For me, after the gasping and the dying part got done, I felt a warmth spread through my body. Everything became really light and clear, that kind of white light you hear so many people talking about. It wasn’t like a tunnel, though, it was everywhere, and I wasn’t in it – I was part of it. It was very peaceful, very relaxing. I remember wishing that my mother was there, because I felt like that was part of the bargain, but I wasn’t too upset that she wasn’t. I guess I thought that would come, in good time. I remember taking a deep breath and thinking, ‘that’s so much better.’ Then I took another deep breath and thought ‘actually, that kind of hurts a little.’ And then I heard people screaming and I thought, ‘oh, my eyes are closed,’ and I opened them, and I was lying in a coffin in a graveyard, and there were five people standing around me shrieking. It was a bit of a rude awakening.
“My death was a set of freak circumstances, but my revival was, and I quote, “impossible.” Everyone says you can only survive an hour or two buried alive in a coffin. You might wonder how I got in a coffin in the first place – I wasn’t goofing around or anything. See, I went into the hospital to have my appendix removed. The operation went really well, but on the way to recovery the orderly, who was moving me, left me in the hall, just for half a second. And this other orderly, who was moving a girl around my age who’d just died, left her in the hall, just for a half a second. I think actually the two of them left together, if you know what I mean, just for half a second. Anyway, I guess in the confusion, one of them left the death certificate on my trolley instead of the other trolley, and a guy from the funeral home took me because I had the certificate. You might be surprised that someone could mistake a breathing person for a dead corpse – but apparently he had just had surgery too, or he must have done anyway because he was on heavy-duty painkillers, plus he was in a hurry because he was late, and the funeral was happening that afternoon. Luckily there was no embalming, or I would have really been in trouble. They just wrapped me in a shroud, put me in the coffin, and put the coffin in the ground.
“Then the orderly wheeled the dead girl to my recuperation room, and they realised I was dead, which I’m sure was quite a shock. Then my foster parents came to identify the body and discovered I was – you know, not me. So there was a bunch of panic and running around and people shouting at each other (or so I imagine. Remember, I was suffocating in a coffin at the time), until they finally figured out where I might have ended up. So they hurried out to the cemetery and dug me up.
“They say the longest you could possibly survive in a coffin is four hours, and I was under the earth for five. The weirdest part is, as soon as they opened the lid I gasped and started to breathe again. They didn’t need to resuscitate me or anything – no CPR, no defibrillator. They did bring me back to the hospital, and then my foster parents made them transfer me to a different hospital because, you know, the first one buried me alive and everything.
“I wasn’t going to sue – I mean, accidents happen, you know? – but my foster parents insisted, and since I’m only sixteen there wasn’t much I could do. I was awarded nine million dollars – seven from the hospital and two from the funeral home. It’s in a trust until I turn eighteen – or until this court decides that I should be legally emancipated. Which I hope you will.
“I’m sure you’re concerned about what a sixteen year old might do let loose on the world with nine million dollars and no parents. So I’ve written this draft of my financial goals, so you can see I’ve thought it through very carefully. If you’ll please refer to Article A? I guess you don’t do that in family court… they do it all the time on TV… well, may I approach the bench? Here you go. You’ll see it’s all laid out there. Of course, ten percent will go to charity, and I decided to round that up to a million. One million will go to my current foster parents. They do so much, taking care of so many children, and they never seem to have enough money – they can’t even afford to feed their kids properly – so hopefully this money will help them to be better parents.
“Four million goes into green investment strategies, so I can live off the earnings. You’ll see a detailed list of which companies I’d like to support – I’ve already talked to a financial advisor. One million will go towards purchasing a home, and any balance will go into an account dedicated to the upkeep of that home. The final three million will go towards starting a charitable foundation, which you’ll find will lead to employment for myself – once I’ve graduated from high school and then business school, of course – while also providing a positive change in our society.
“I think you’ll agree I have it all figured out. So I hope you’ll make the right decision, and choose to emancipate me. Thank you.”