Chapter Three - The Thousand Smiles I Have Seen

The absence of sound made every step resound like thunder on the white marble floor. It was drawing me north; every cell of my body moved as if I were possessed.

Gigantic columns with flames made of clouds reaching skyward stood to my left and right. With every ten steps, one passed me and was left behind. With each column, a new passage unfolded.

Each passing flooded my brain with a new thought, scene, and emotion. I saw Mr. Hawthorn raising his hand. The yellow ruler, which had numbers from one to forty centimeters, towered over my head before it came swooping down.

Whack!

The black-haired boy, whose skin shone bright red, let out a miserable plea.

"Maybe if you had just worked harder!"

A column passed, replacing the etching pain on my hand with a soft fragrance. Pink petals wavered to the floor, entangling in the perfect blonde hair of a goddess.

"Oh my, Kelly!" A girl with the same red-and-white striped skirt came running. "Have you had your hair done?"

"Whatever do you mean~" Kelly's voice sounded like the song of an angel.

They were giggling, headed straight, without looking back. Their backs grew further away as the distance between us became greater.

Another column passed, and with that, the memory of my first puppy love ended.

On my path, I remembered the sad feeling of losing my parents, the uneasiness of being put into an orphanage, the joy of graduating, and the thrill of playing my favorite video game.

It was as if my life had been recorded on a filmstrip, on which I was walking down. Each frame held a moment filled with sadness, happiness, or addiction. It showed the good and the bad, the hard and the easy times, as well as the mundane and the special times.

Like the flash of a camera, my life was running before my eyes like a movie. It felt so real: every cried tear, every one of the thousands of smiles I had seen, and every struggle I had experienced. It was me; it was what made up myself—a normal modern-day human.

After a while, the moments began to last longer and feel more vivid, fresh, and recent.

The shown memories became the last years, then the past weeks, and then the final few days.

"Wow." This was marvelous in its very own right.

At the end of the many columns, there was a staircase made of white limestone. Up and up, I stepped.

"Man, I really wasn't made for sports!" I huffed, taking the last steps and wiping sweat from my forehead.

"You say that, but do you mean it?"

"For God's sake! YES!" Before I could realize that someone—and there was no other person present—had just voiced something out to me, the reply slipped out of my mouth.

"Very well."

Only now did I realize that there was someone speaking.

"Uhm?" My stupor rendered me speechless. "Who?"

I looked down, but there was nothing but the staircase. In front of me was only an altar with a starlet on top. And everything else was shrouded in clouds.

"Over here." It echoed through the space.

I raised my hand and pointed at the starlet. "You?"

"Huh!" The starlet flickered in an almost red light but quickly returned to its undyed state. "Haven't you been taught that it is deemed rude to point your finger at people?"

"Uhm… Sorry?"

I tilted my head, walking closer to the starlet. Like a strong magnet, it drew me in, my hand reaching for it and—

"Touching not allowed!"

I snapped out of it. Instantly back to my senses, as far as this would count as "logical" by modern-day standards.

"Uhm…" I paused. "Sure."

"So, am I correct to assume that you know why you are here?"

"Uhm…" I paused again. "No?"

"You have died."

"Ah." I paused. "Yes… I have died—"

Then there was silence.