Check-In

“Check-In”

A Short Story

***

“You aren’t a member.”

“Yes, but I should be.”

“That doesn’t mean anything here.”

“It should. After all, I have the necessary attributes to enter your little club.  I’m young enough, a women, with the necessary cleavage, a well-turned ankle, sparkling blue eyes, an elegant hand, a personality that you’ve never come across and a wit to keep you enthralled for hours. I’ve got it all.”

“But we’ve seen all of it.”

“I don’t think you have.”

“Look,” the voice intoned, “we’ve had many a plea from those quite like you who have your qualifications to exit, and even more, but whom we’ve denied permanent ‘leave’ passes, for reasons that I’m not allowed to disclose.”

“Ah, a heavenly shyster, just like your brethren here on Earth.”

“Your name,” the voice intoned.

“Stop with the little afterlife game here.  You know my name.”

“Ah yes, Samantha.”

“Yes…Samantha. A hideous name that my mother bestowed upon me, my life born upon her by a drunkard who inseminated her when she too was drunk to resist.  What, exactly, are the qualifications needed to exit the earthly circus?’

“Well…if you haven’t figured out by now, I’m afraid there is no possible chance for you to leave.”

“Screw you.  Let me list your standards.  Those who can leave the game you set from the beginning must be able to understand it. And few can, for it is a game where the gifted are cast aside. A game where goodness is only rewarded by the innocents you’ve seen fit to banish to the outskirts.

Yours is a system that rewards decadence, filth, depravity, dishonesty, subterfuge, chicanery, lunacy, and insanity. Innocents are expected to rise about all this, without a sliver of knowledge of the game of insanity you’ve advanced for thousands of years. I present myself here now, not just as the specimen of what you’ve advanced throughout the ages, but as a life that has learned to transcend your shit, and actually, I believe I’ve overcome the game.

An alluring smile…I’ve got that. Perfect tits, waistline, long legs, strawberry blonde hair, – a perfect smile, all teeth pearly white…check.

I’ve got the mind, the wit, the ability to learn – the ability to lead, but the world you’ve created has seen fit to demolish that which you gave me upon my birth.

You reward the insidious, the trite, the ludicrous, and are plum with setting me up, and those like me, as a piranha, no matter whether they look like me or are my opposite in the physical.

If I scream the truth, you see fit to cast me and those like me into the sewer.  If I offer beauty, you see fit that it is ignored, with the heinous taking its place. If I take refuge among the introverts – those who know – you ensure we all remain alone.

You’ve created a world where ugliness, strife and idiocy is the standard of each new day. And yet, you allow the preposterous notion to advance that the innocents born here must strive to overcome the demonic entities that you allow to thrive. And I say…eternally…fuck you!”

“You have not yet proven your case,” the voice said. “And as such, you cannot yet advance beyond the sphere.”

Samantha gained what was left of her earthly faculties as she lay on the hospital bed – her body still nearly perfect, but her mind lost in a river of drugs she’d subjected her body and mind to, trying to escape the insanity of the modern day gods.

She pressed the button. More morphine to keep the demons at bay. Two hours later, she gained a morsel of the now, attempting to touch her toes to the floor beneath the hospital bed, for no other reason to feel what earth she could beneath her feet.

The morphine was too strong, and she gave up, lifting her long legs and resting her feet back upon the bed. She pressed the button again for more morphine.

Whether angel, God, or those of her lineage who had passed before her, they took her this night, far away from the insanity of the gods of the era, allowing her to rest, universe’s away from her ills, whether imagined, or real…at peace… at last.

***

Tonight’s musical offering

David Fray – Bach (F-Moll)

Photo by Amanda Dalbjörn on Unsplash

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