Purgatory: ReLife Chapter 01

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Purgatory: Relife

Chapter 1

by Aurum

Copyright © 2016 Aurum
All Rights Reserved.

I would like to give a shout-out to Gwen Brown and CHERYLB for taking the time to review this chapter. Their feedback allowed me to edit this chapter for formatting and quality. Much thanks!

“Where am I?” I asked, my panic showing. My fear came not from my confusion, the drugs in college made me used to ‘coming to’ in random places. No it was how strange this place was, in particular how bright the light was, and no matter where I looked it was blinding. That is, except for right in front of me where a short man sat. Surrounding him was a bright halo, which caused him to appear as little more than a silhouette.

He only sat there, studying me as I shifted in my seat while I waited for my vision to clear. “Why’s it so bright?” I asked, trying to convince him to speak with me. Instead of answering me he was flipping through some pages and taking notes. “Who are you?” I was beginning to worry about this silent person. I asked, “am I in a hospital, where’s the doctor?” Like he’d done thrice before, he ignored me completely.

I gave up on speaking with him until he was ready since he obviously wouldn’t answer any of my questions. Instead I decided to try wandering around to escape the overwhelming brightness that wasn’t clearing up. “Why can’t I move!?” I screamed at him, it didn’t feel like I was bound. No, it felt like I had no body at all, I couldn’t remember even the most exotic of drugs causing this. “Am I…” my voice trailed off as I thought about living as a quadriplegic. My distress was overwhelming, but instead of my heartrate rising or my blood pressure increasing, I felt nothing. This further fueled my fear as I continued to not feel the physical responses I expected, which resulted in a vicious cycle that got so bad I’m sure I’d be gasping for air in a panic attack if my body would react.

“Soon, I need to review your file. Do not worry you’re not paralyzed.” I thought about protesting for answers, but decided that I didn’t need to anger this mysterious man. As I waited I tried to remember how I ended up here, but I was unable to recount anything before this room. ‘It’s a shitty nightmare!’ I thought to myself, realizing that the setting was ridiculous and instead of having weird hands I had none at all. Furthermore, the lack of a physical response to my extreme panic could only be explained by a dream.

I tried taking control of the dream by closing my eyes and imagining a new setting. I thought about being on a creek in the woods, although not perfect I figured it’d be darker and serene. When I reopened my eyes I was still in the blinding room, which agitated me. “Give me clarity!” I demanded, startling the man.

“Are you that disrespectful and impatient?” he replied calmly.

“What… no, I just… why can’t I control this dream.” I paused before continuing. “I’m tired of being blinded in this shitty room.”

“Really?” was all he said before quickly scribbling a few more notes. “First, let me assure you that this is not a dream. Second, you are not paralyzed. Third, this ‘shitty room’ is not a sketchy hospital, but the gates of heaven.”

I could only laugh silently, “Then where’s the pearly gates and all that.”

“There are no pearly gates, that’s just a mistranslation, but I am St. Peter.”

This was absurd, I didn’t believe in any of that, I mean it was so illogical. How were Jesus’ miracles less documented than even the obscure emperors of Rome. Why would a perfect God be so incapable of forgiveness or controlling his anger? Unfortunately, when I heard the man claim himself to be St. Peter all these thoughts and more rushed through my mind in a split-second. I realized this was a mistake when he took a few more notes and sighed.

“Well that’s unfortunate, some people can’t believe it even when it’s right in front of them. You weren’t even close to making it into Heaven, but”

“I’m going to Hell? You’re going to torture me forever because I didn’t believe a stupid set of dogmas. I was a good person, I treated everyone with respect. Sure I wasn’t perfect, but I don’t deserve to be tortured.” I said interrupting him.

“No, but please do not interrupt me again, it’s very annoying.” He said staring me in the eyes until I looked away. It was rare I broke eye contact during power plays, but his gaze was so forceful. It was like he could see everything by looking me in the eyes. Satisfied, he continued, “Do you know what the possible outcomes of me judging you are?”

“Heaven, Hell, and I guess purgatory.”

“Exactly, but did you know there’s actually three forms of purgatory?” I shook my head without saying anything so he continued, “You can think of purgatory as similar to the Buddhist reincarnation, which means that you can be reborn into a better life or a worse life.”

“You said there were three?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

“The third is to relive your own life.”

“But that’s stupid, wouldn’t I remake all the same mistakes and just end up here with the same evaluation.”

“If life were deterministic, then you’d be right. However, your life is guided by four basic forces: your thoughts, your emotions, your intuition, and finally chance.”

“So what’ll be different, will I have better luck or something.” I said sarcastically.

“Tell me where you think each force stems from.”

“You’re probably going to tell me that God affects chance, but the other three are based on my experiences. If I’m reborn in the same life then I’ll have the same experiences, so unless God is going to change my luck it’ll be the exact same.”

“You’re close, chance is determined by God and the other three are determined by your experiences. However, in this life God will change the outcome of chance and you’ll change the outcome of your intuition. Have you never felt that little voice in the back of your mind telling you to do something, did you not notice how it is almost right?”

“Yea, so what?”

“That voice, your intuition, is the experiences of your soul. In your purgatory, your soul will be wiser from this. So even if you were reborn into the same life, you would have different experiences, and not just through a change in chance.”

We talked for some time about the nuances of these forces. He told me that although initially I would have the same thoughts and emotions, my change in intuition and chance would cause me to have different experiences. These different experiences would change my thoughts and emotions, how much depended on me. He explained this cycle at length, but it felt like no time had passed. Rather it was his sharp wisdom or his ability to seemingly read thoughts, our conversation continued with the ease of talking to an old friend. At least until he brought it up, something I wouldn’t be prepared to talk about with people I trusted, at least not honestly, and he expected me to share with him.

“You have 37,521 regrets, of which, four are class A and 12 are class B.” He said in an impartial tone.

“No, I don’t have that many.” I said, really wanting to be done with this.

“You may not realize it since these can be as small as what color toothbrush you bought to oversleeping on the weekend.”

“Well how do you expect me to remember those?”

“I don’t, since they’re not the kind of regrets you bring here with you. But class B’s are the ones you carry through life. Although not debilitating whenever you think about them you wish you’d done something different.”

“And class A’s?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I was trying to keep from thinking about them since I knew he’d know. Actually, he probably already did, but I couldn’t give him confirmation. I’d had a lifetime of keeping them bottled up so that’d I’d have plausible deniability.

“They’re the ones that are too painful to think about. The ones that always gave you a brief suicidal thought whenever you reflected on them.” He sounded very sympathetic now, like I’d always wished my friends and family had been. Actually, he seemed more concerned for me than even my therapists were. “You need to share them, I won’t reject you.”

“Well I’ve always regretted what major I picked in college. I couldn’t find a job for years, and with it being a business degree I never expected that.” I knew that wasn’t the regrets he was wanting to talk about, but that did always bother me. I felt like a leech on my parents as they supported me, which made me even more depressed, so I spent even less time looking for jobs. It was a vicious cycle that didn’t end until a childhood friend gave me an offer.

St. Peter gave me advice on how to deal with this regret, and how I should have accepted my perceived failure. Although, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t read in a self-help book, it was nice hearing it from such a credible source.

I named off many of my other regrets, from not learning an instrument or foreign language to other regrets I had from my college days. We even discussed the ex I regretted breaking up with. Each time he would support me with good advice on what I could have done differently prior and after the mistake. After we’d discussed 10 of my 12 class B’s, and I was unable to think of the other two, he attempted to bring the conversation to the main topic.

“So don’t you think it’s time we discussed what you really hate. The mistakes that destroyed your happiness.”

“I don’t get why it’s so important to talk about. I’ve already reflected on these more than you can imagine.”

“But I can.” He paused before continuing, “Do you really want to know why it’s imperative we address these?” I nodded my head as he asked. “Because you can’t get into Heaven if you have even one class A regret. Those are like demons that make it impossible for you to enter. They’re the reason you are still blinded before me.”

I sighed, staring off into the bright void to his left. I’d always counted on death bringing me respite from this pain. Rather it was reincarnation, Hell, or even just turning into dust, they were all preferable to the suffering they had caused me.

“Because I let my dad talk me out of becoming a girl when I was four.” I felt defeated at having admitted it. I felt like I was acknowledging that not only was I a failure as a son, but I didn’t even have the courage to be a daughter. My breaths became shallow as my thoughts raced, I was on edge, wired by the remorse and the fear my admission caused. I was ready for even St. Peter to be repulsed and ship me to Hell.

“That wasn’t your fault, your respect for you dad was beyond compare.” He tried consoling me.

“You think I don’t know that. Like I haven’t thought that nearly every time I think about this shit!” I was growing hysterical. He tried backtracking, discussing what sort of standard I placed on a four year old. That disobeying ones parents, especially when they felt so loved was an impossible demand.

Surprisingly his way of looking at it helped. It’s not like the regret went away, but the rage subsided. After I calmed down, he spent a lot of time telling me what I could have done differently to not carry that burden with me. Yet, he offered little in the way of solutions to not repeat the mistake.

“For not taking drastic action when I was 12 to make my parents realize.” This one was easier to share after the last one. This time he walked me through the strategies to avoid the mistake, but didn’t give me much advice to cope if I didn’t

The next two only took a few moments to cover, since really all four of these regrets were the same. “For not having the courage to be myself when I was 19 and for not going to a college that would support the real me.” Like the first two he gave more feedback, focusing on my lack of motivation when applying to colleges. Really, that complacent attitude stemmed from my despondence formed during my teen years as puberty conspired to make my body betray me.

“With that we’re done. As you can probably guess you just barely scored below what is allowed for an easier life. Therefore, you will have to relive your life. All of your memories will be erased and the only thing you will carry with you is a keen intuition from this experience.”

Before I could ask for more information or protest his decision the room went from blinding light to complete darkness.


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Behind the Scenes

Aurum's picture

This story is fiction, but plays on real events in my life. If you read my story Eternal Despair you will get a nonfiction account of the events this story will touch on. However, since its what I'd like to imagine my life would have been if I'd made ideal decisions, this story will diverge fairly quickly.

Also, I intend to make this story lead into another story idea I have, so it will be a connected universe. To do this I will allow certain events to happen that, although grounded in reality (given the ReLife premise) would not have happened even if I'd made better choices.

A good start.

A good start.

This is setting up to be an interesting story that can go many different ways. Lots of possible outcomes, will s/he be forced to relive his/her life over again until s/he reaches the correct choice that the man upstairs wants him/her to take? Will s/he have unintended consequences that are going to impact others?

I'm told STFU more times in a day than most people get told in a lifetime

:)

Aurum's picture

I'm really glad you like the start. Also I'd love to thank you for the inspiration! I knew that I could tell about 3 versions of this story, but while I was replying to your comment I realized that it'd also make a perfect pick-your-path (pyp) book. What I'll probably do is tell the main version of the story since it leads into another book I'd like to write. Afterwards, I may try and write a pyp, if its not too challenging. As for your second question, I love the butterfly effect concept so there will be intended consequences and far-reaching unintended consequences.

Hugs
-Aurum

good I died back in the 70s

good I died back in the 70s yes there is an after life. I think that why I do and live as I do

Seconds chances

A great start and I really like how this is beginning to develop

We the willing, led by the unsure. Have been doing so much with so little for so long,
We are now qualified to do anything with nothing.

Glad you liked it

Aurum's picture

I really appreciate your positive feedback. Hopefully I can keep it interesting for you. I'm goig to post chapter 2 later today. I'd written it yesterday, but I prefer to make the final edit the following day with fresh eyes.

-Aurum

P.S. That's an interesting signature, is it from something or did you come up with it yourself?

An interesting take on purgatory

And st peter was very nice, not condemning doctrinal or religious choice at all.

Xx
Amy

Agreed

Aurum's picture

I've always thought that if there were a purgatory then it'd just be Earth. This is a place with some of the greatest kindnesses and worst evils. Plus, there's no need for St. Peter to be difficult, why would a saint be ruder than a college admissions person? Hope you like the story, I'm going to post chapter 2 later today.

-Aurum

He knows more than we do ...

Most people, especially those of faith don't understand that we don't know it all. The one who will judge us has followed us through life, watching quietly.

Very nice start.

Thank you

Aurum's picture

Thank you for your feedback on this chapter, its what gave me the confidence to post this version. I believe that was a great decision since I'm already in the middle of chapter 3. Unfortunately, I can't get the outline to work correctly, but you can read chapter 2 HERE.

Stimulus Response

Writing is setting up stimulus response chains.

https://books.google.com/books?id=wzUo-KvpA2UC&pg=PA92&lpg=P...

You could tighten up your dialogue by making sure each phrase leads to a response that changes it a stimulus for the next response.

Readers like to guess what will happen next -- how each character will react to what is said or done. If they guess right they feel good about your story. If they guess wrong they want you to have given them a fair chance to have guessed right.

At least, that's what I think.

Your story is interesting. I understand this is set up, but I still am getting a little impatient waiting for action.

I like to include internal dialogue. Some good writers never use internal dialogue. It's a matter of style.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Good advice

Aurum's picture

Dialogue was something I used to hate writing entirely, which caused me to ignore it and focus on the narrative. I appreciate your pointers and the link, I will try to implement them going forward. I'm always looking to improve and your advice should help me achieve that goal.

As for your impatience, I completely understand since this chapter is heavy in exposition (bad, I know but it lets me get to the heart of the matter quicker, which is important in this community). However, it starts to pick up in chapter 2 and takes off in chapter 3.

Thank you,
-Aurum

Neat story idea

Jamie Lee's picture

"If only" can be the first two words thought or spoken when memories flood to the forefront. But memories are of events which have occurred and can't be altered, yet they have a way of still controlling out life.

Would it be good to go back and change things, get rid of "if only" by doing things differently? Perhaps, perhaps not. What if an "if only" was bad for you but good for someone else? And their good prompted good in others? This good would not be known by you since you never knew good happened. Going back to make changes in your life could cause unhappiness in another's.

But the person isn't given the choice to return or not return to his former life. He's going, period. Only question concerns his listening to his intuition this time around. Without any memories it's the only guiding light he'll have. Perhaps this time when it's his time, he'll have no regrets.

Others have feelings too.

If only

Aurum's picture

I'm glad that you pointed out all the questions I'm hoping to answer. In reality, isn't the point of life to learn to live in a way without regrets? Is it better to cause unhappiness for someone if it results in more happiness for all? What if the only effect is the absence of effect?

I like how you worded "he's going, period." Hopefully this time he can use his intuition instead of repeating the "cycle"

Hoping no regrets
-Aurum

Interesting concept of

Interesting concept of purgatory. I look forward to he next chapter or 7 regarding this story.
I recall a TV western movie a few years back that was called "Purgatory", where people went to correct their lives before they met their final justice. It dealt with how people corrected what they did in their actual life that had affected them to be placed in purgatory to fix the problem.

Opps..But he's(?) only

Opps..But he's(?) only lightly affected.

alissa