Da Dun

Da dun.

Confused, I open my eyes to darkness. I swallow; the sound is the only thing heard.

Da dun.

Well, apart from my heartbeat. The pillow is uncomfortable.

I turn my head. Where am I?

My elbows touch walls on each side of my body. Lying on my back, I am wearing dress shoes—shoes while sleeping?

They’re too tight.

This should terrify me more.

Da dun da dun.

I wiggle my toes, then my fingers.

Why can’t I see anything? My chest thightens. "H-Hello? Anyone there?" Biting my lip, I taste a tinge of blood.

Da dun dun.

A trickle of sweat runs down my neck, cooling my skin. At least I think it’s sweat. In fact, I hope so.

Something soft grazes my fingertips. Velour? Velvet?

I drop my hands beside me—velvet.

I'm surrounded by velvet. What is this?

A dream? A jerk runs through whatever I'm lying in, followed by a thud.

Okay. Not a dream, then. My fingers twist together. My eyes are heavy. I blink. Dizziness takes over.

Another thud.

Maybe not just velvet? Something hard. A box? Am I in a box?

Another droplet hits the fabric below.

I shiver.

Somewhere deep down, the thought — this has to be sweat seems quite insistent. My heart elevates, as the words take me over: be sweat, just be sweat, please be sweat.

Before vanishing in the current vastness of my brain.

I move my left hand up to rub the wetness between my fingers. A quick taste: saltish-sweet. Well. Suppose it’s not a tear, it's sweat. ‘Though tears would be okay, too...’

A loud noise hits my box again.

Da dundadundadun da dun. My heart nearly stumbles.

Again, and again, and again.

Is it cold in here? Another thud rattels the box.

‘Get ready for crossing.’ The reply is short, its depths relaxes my muscles. Didn’t know my thoughts could sound so low. Well, I do like to impersonate voices.

One last loud booming noise. ‘It’s over. Relax. Inhale.’

A relieved sigh escapes, with a warm rush past my lips, as I suddenly feel much lighter. ‘Very good.’ I mumble to myself, turning a little to the side. A blanket would be nice. I breathe in deeply. I fall asleep for a while.

My head lolls slightly to the left as I wake.

Another mantra occupies my brain: Don’t breathe hard, stay relaxed. Don’t breathe hard, stay relaxed.

This one, I recognize from before. Back from when, when... uhm. My mind blanks.

I lick my lips and recognize a slight parch. When was the last time I drank anything?

I shake my head. A curl brushes over my forehead. Wasn’t my hair shorter? Must be another one missed by the barber. Pursing my lips, I reach further.

Smooth wood? No. Another stroke. That’s velvet.

‘Red velvet’.

Why is it so close?

Da dun da dun dun dun. Oh right. Box.

How do I know it is red? My brows furrow.

I stroke alongside the wall next to my body. All velvet, at least as far as I can reach.

If I moved my feet, I’d create a hollow sound at the bottom, stomping it.

Da dun.

And don’t mind me. For whatever reason, knowledge does not escape to tell me: Don’t do it. Don’t stomp.

Don’t stomp. Velvet. Sweat.

I know all this. How?

Da dun Da dun.

I smack my lips. The air tastes normal? I suppose.

‘Would be bad if it didn’t.’ My brain suggests again. At least I think it is my brain.

It would be now, wouldn’t it?

"Hello?"

Gotta make sure there aren’t any others. I grin, which drops fast.

Wait.

Da dun da dun dun Da dun dun dun.

What a silly thought that is. Of course, this is my brain. Whom else would it belong to?

Belong to... wait, no. It’s about the voice, isn’t it? My brain is my brain.

I cross my arms, humming slightly in contemplation.

The air being off would be bad, because… I feel my eyes automatically move in the darkness.

Smell would surely indicate… Something… Something, like a process. I flex my hand. Like... like how the sweat should be sweat. Cause more liquid would cause… moisture. Which creates mold. So, the air not smelling means no mold. Right? Right?

Da dun.

So, clean air, no moisture, and no stomping is good.

I nod. Yes. That must be right.

Don’t know about the stomping, though.

I roll my head on the pillow-like thing below me.

Before I run my hands over the soft texture on both sides.

Mhm.

‘Could have made that one larger.’

That one. BRAIN! Which one? The box?

Silence.

I sigh again, louder this time.

For all the times my brain went haywire in the past, it seems uncharacteristically silent now. A contrast to the usual: overthinking. Tends to make me miss major keys on occasion. You know, like that one time, in 8th grade. A laugh bubbles in my chest. I swear, changing my essay had made total sense to me.

Well, da dun, until my teacher graded it. Had to read it out loud to my classmates on return. In human nature, garbage collectors usually do not, in fact, bite dogs. Conscious thoughts, my teacher had doubted mine.

Teenage years. Funny how life runs quicker after.

Back then, my brain had forgotten to recheck the beginning of the sentence. Just jumped it. Straight to the middle. I swore to never do that again.

Where was I? Don't stomp velvet. I nod.

‘Don’t stomp in the darkness.’

I blink, ah, yeah, right. Cause that makes noise. Noise is bad cause… da dun.

I hum again, longer this time. Noise. I kinda would like to check that. Does darkness make sound?

‘Don’t.’

Blinking repeatedly, I feel myself pout. "Why?" Da dun.

‘Might scare someone; against the rules.’

Scare someone? Why? Is someone outside my box?! I jerk up, only to instantly hit my forehead. Ow. I pout.

Against the rules. Okay. Mhm.

So, don’t blink. Well no. Not that. Blinking does not work, cause you won’t see anyway. Makes more sense, now, doesn’t it? I clap my hands. Noise!

Okay, that’s rule number one.

I lick my lips. Oh, I am parched. Huh. Did I say that before? Anyway.

Don’t sweat. Nah. ‘Better be sweat’.

Don’t create other moisture, though tears would be okay. I nod. Moving my body a little to lie more comfortably on the velvet.

Stretching myself, I reach over my head. Wood. No. Velvet clads the box I am lying in.

Why do I keep thinking this is wood?

‘Cause it is.’

I look to the left, then to the right. That sounded like an answer. "Hello?"

Nothing.

"Okay, so it is wood," I mumble.

‘No.’

"You just said it was!" I cannot help but raise my voice a little. Dadu dadun dadun da.

‘Wood.’

"AHHHHHHH!" Frustrated, I hit the side of the box. Ouch. Huh. I shake out my hand. Seems to be wood underneath the velvet. I freeze. That totally was a dialogue. "Say something!"

Silence.

Trying to find a comfortable position in here is not easy. Nearly like an itch. I scratch my thigh. Sighing once more, when it stops. Maybe it’s the wood.

Okay. So,... a box made of wood, clad in velvet. Please be sweat. Da dun.

Sweat running down my neck. Should be sweat. Nothing else. Anything else would be bad.

Why?

Tap, tap, tap. My finger hits my torso repeatedly. Tap.

That’s not a hoodie. I grasp the cool material. This is a dress shirt.

When do I ever wear dress shirts willingly?

Mhm. I’m thirsty. But here, 'moisture would roughen the chances.' Da da dun.

My annoyance spikes once more. "Which chances?"

‘Of traveling smoothly. Don’t stomp your feet.’

The pain of resisting the reflexive pull of my muscles brings me back to focus a little.

"What kind of travel?! And why am I in a freaking box?!"

‘Casket.’

My eyes widen. "You’re not my brain!"

Laughter rings through my head. Or is it the box? Hell, I am parched.

‘You’re not headed to hell,’ is that a drawl?

"Gee, thanks, did not think so!" My mind seems lacking. I gulp air. ‘Don’t breathe hard, stay relaxed.’ The mantra is back. No, the voice.

"Wait!" The word casket pings like a limelight through the fog inside my head. "Why casket?!"

A clicking sound.

The lid opens as a cloaked, hooded figure peeks inside. Blue sky above blinds me for a second.

"Well, they didn’t burn you."

Gobsmacked, I stare upwards once my eyes have cleared. "I thought you had a scythe." Da-da dun.

"I thought you would be dead. Guess we both have questions." The voice is deeper than it should be. Death.

Dead. dead. dead. Da dun da dun da dun.

Great. A new mantra. Not the point, my brain supplies.

"I am not?"

"Your heart’s still beating. Unless you were undead, that typically infers you’re still alive."

Da dun dun dun dun dun dun dun.

"UNDEAD?!"

The figure tilts its head. "As I said, you’re not."

"No, you said unless!" I point at Death with my finger.

Silence. Da dun.

"I could make you."

"What?!" I squeak. Air brushes softly at my cheeks.

"Make you die." My breath catches with death’s words. "I mean, you are not undead. You don’t have a bite. And to be honest. I mean, we kinda are far up now anyway." Pointing around with a bony hand, death refers to the sky.

Dad dad dad dundundun dun.

"You want to kill me?!"

Death tks at me. "Kiddo, if I were to bring you back down now, you’d already have suffocated. Humans need air; you’re six feet under. Well, your body is."

"I am buried?!"

A nod. Taking out a list, death nods once more before flipping a page. "Yeah. Roughly six hours ago."

"Why?!"

"Because you’re essentially dead. Hit your head. Buddy."

"Stop talking to me as if I were a child!" I sit up. Bad idea. Everything is swaying. A small scream escapes me as I look past the walls of the casket. We are hundreds of meters above the ground and rising.

Dadun dadun dadun dadun.

"You are to me." Death pats my knee. "And you’re what, twenty-five? Not that old. Young. A youngling." The cloak sways in the wind. "With a head injury. Didn’t you feel a trickle?"

I swallow. "You’re saying I am dead."

"Your body is mostly."

"How?! How can I be buried in a casket when I am still alive?!" My breath runs faster.

Death perches itself on the edge of my box. Pardon. Casket.

"Humans make mistakes all the time. In your case, your pulse was really weak."

Da dun da dun da dun.

"It is strong now!"

"It is to you. To me. To awake humans? Not so much. You see, death makes you lighter. Makes pulse weigh more."

I blink. "So, I am dead."

Death marks something on his list. "As good as."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" I sit up on my knees, closer to Death. The pendant of a necklace sways in the wind around its neck. "Why am I here? Why are we talking!?” Da dun.

Death crosses its legs. "You cannot enter with a heartbeat, so we’re waiting for it to stop." A pocket watch materializes for a second. Death glances at it before snapping it shut.

"Enter where?!"

"The place you go after death. Aka me. So, buddy, I can make this easier, as I said. Crossing over can be quick." Its black eyes focus on me. "You’re currently building up to taking a while."

“I cannot go back down?” I grasp my hair. Is it longer than it was before?

"You can. That’s the longest way of crossing. Waiting till the air runs out. Sucks." Death pats my knee once more. "You seem like a nice kid. Don’t do that. Besides, I would pick you up anyway." Another pat.

Death leans in a little. "You can’t get out of your box. There’s earth above you." Did its voice become lighter?

"You’d need air. Besides. Your body is a little weak at the moment." A slight tingle dances in the surrounding wind.

"Why?! I am strong! I can hold my breath, I could get out!" My voice becomes stronger with every word as I rear back, my hair flying around my face.

"You hit your head because you were sick, buddy. Shortness of breath, dizziness, sweating, and your brain’s all muddled from the impact." Death straightens up again.

"I am totally thinking straight!"

Death pats my head. What’s with all the patting?

Da.

"What if I don’t wanna go?" The next breath is easier.

Death pauses. "Want is relative." The list rustles. "You were asleep for a while before entering the casket. Deeply asleep." Wind tousles my hair.

Why do I feel warmer? D-un.

Sunlight tickles my face as the air tastes lighter. "Don’t close the lid, please." Calmness fills me. We’re even higher now. Flying miles above ground.

"Well, I suppose your heartbeat is gone now, isn’t it?" Death lets go of the lid for a second, holding out a hand for me.

I freeze, looking at my chest. Waiting for another beat.

Nothing.

I look up.

Death looks weirdly alive now, all grinning. "Welcome."