(A story for Halloween.)
Warren lay in the hospital bed. He couldn’t move but he could hear.
“We’re sorry, but he’s clinically dead. When you’ve said your goodbyes, the machine will be turned off.”
Don’t pull the plug! Don’t pull the plug! screamed Warren inside. I’m still alive!
“Thank you, doctor. We would like to switch the machine off ourselves. Goodbye, Warren.”
Warren heard the switch click. He knew they were wheeling him to the morgue. He heard the mortician complain about the amount of fluid in his system.
“It must’ve been one hell of a gigantic cyst. Look at all that stuff draining off.”
He heard them injecting him with embalming fluid. He felt it. It was excruciating. He heard his funeral; every word. He heard them lowering the coffin into the grave.
I’m not dead! I’m not dead!
He heard the clunk of the dirt falling.
He heard his body rot; bit by bit; piece by piece. Decaying bones take centuries.
He was dead, but this was Hell.