Chapter : Waking Up Dead. Part-1

『𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺. 𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵. 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘍𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵... 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘈𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵... 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴' 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘬.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵... 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘖𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸, 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵?

𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦? 𝘕𝘰. 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.』

                                      ☯︎

When Mifa woke up, she had no idea where she was or how she got there.

Mifa found herself in some kind of waiting room. Disoriented and mildly panicked, she realized she didn't recognize the room and could not recall how or why she was there. Feeling a sense of '𝕯𝖊𝖏𝖆 𝖛𝖚'.  Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find something familiar to lock on to. Neither the décor nor the people in the waiting room with her were familiar. Subconsciously, Mifa reached for her phone. Her unease grew when she discovered it was not there, and as she moved she couldn't feel the weight of her phone or anything.

The chair Mifa had been in wobbled backward, threatening to topple over as she leaped to her feet. She looked around again, trying to calm herself, and took in more details of those around her. The others in the room were all of different shapes and sizes, all of different ages and ethnicities. There was a middle-aged black man clad in a utility worker's uniform. Beside him sat a young woman in a grocery store uniform. An older man sat off in a corner wearing a hunting outfit, humming some random tune. They all seemed to have the same expression on their face, their eyes glassy and their muscles relaxed as if they weren't really there. None of them were reacting to Mifa or even looking at her.

Mifa reminded herself to stay calm. She was not going to let panic rule her. Someone had to know where they were right?

Mifa moved a couple of chairs down and took a seat next to the utility worker. Getting a solid grip on her emotions, she tried for congeniality as she greeted him.

"Hey, how's it going?" Mifa asked. He didn't respond. He didn't even twitch. The man gave no sign that he had heard her.

"Hello?" She asks again and waves her hand in front of his face.

Mifa then looked around to see if anyone looked as if they heard her. She waved her hands at them. No one looked her way. They all just kept staring straight ahead, their eyes glazed over and vacant. The older man in the corner just kept humming his tune.

The black-haired teenager got up and crossed the room to the wall, running her hands through her dark hair as she walked.

'This had to be a dream, right? A place I don't recognize, no memory of how I got there, and nothing with me other than the clothes I wore. It absolutely had to be a dream.'

Mifa leans against the wall, refusing to sit back down with the vacant people; they give her the creeps. This had to be the most ridiculous, pointless dream she ever had; nothing was happening in it. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. 

The strangest things had happened in dreams before. So the black-haired teenager keeps on fuming at her subconscious for keeping her here.

A door suddenly opened in the wall, which was remarkable because there hadn't been a door in the room at all. Mifa stood straighter, eager to see what would happen. A girl around her age emerged. She was one of those people who seemed ageless; she looked like she could be around 18 years old. She had black hair and a black face mask covering half her face, and her crimson eyes seemed like they could see everything.

'Why does she look so familiar?' 

A file folder was open in her hand. "Hello,  my name is Ayana," she introduced herself. 

She spent a moment intently reading the description of the person she was there to retrieve. A young girl of 17 years old, average height. Black hair and hazel eyes completed the list of things she needed to search out. She closed the file and looked at those waiting then spotted Mifa standing by the wall.

"You wouldn't happen to be Miftahul Zannah by any chance, would you?" Ayana asks, her accent marking her as an Englishwoman but her name is Japanese. 

At last, her subconscious had decided to do something. The black-haired teenager pushes off from the wall and takes a step forward. "I am."

"Oh good." She sighed and visibly relaxed. "You woke up earlier than expected. I was afraid I'd lost you. That wouldn't do now would it?"

"Um, I guess not," Mifa said and shrugged. she waves her hand, beckoning Mifa to follow her and she does. Once the door closed behind them, it once again disappeared into the wall. The black-haired teenager looks at her, trying to figure out her age, or anything else about her other than her obvious heritage. While not as physically imposing as some, she seems to be someone who kept fit as you know her.

 "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"As I said earlier I am Ayana. A pleasure to meet you," she replied, offering her hand to shake. 

Mifa took the offered hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, but you didn't answer my second question. And where are we?"

"Ah, yes. Well, why don't you come with me? I'll answer all your questions in my office."

Mifa arches a skeptical eyebrow but follows. Through rows of desks, they went, passing by people who sat with headphones on and computer screens in front of them. The black-haired teenager could see different things on the screens, but couldn't really make out what was being done on them. following Ayana through the area to one of the many doors on the far side of the room. she opened the door, letting them into a room that, though it lacked windows, felt oddly familiar.

The walls were a kind of pale cream or beige, the usual colour designers choose when trying to stay neutral, but not go with white. There were two desks, facing each other. One was obviously her, with files and papers on it. The other was clear and didn't seem to belong to anyone. Ayana gestured toward the empty desk as she closed the door. "Have a seat." As Ayana settled into her, she looked up at the black-haired teenager. 

 "uh...thanks. So...where is this place?" Mifa is aware that she is dreaming, but hey, she might as well find out what her subconscious is up for her this time.

"I suppose limbo might be the most proper term," she said and shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Limbo? So I'm what? Waiting to come out of a coma or something?" 

That made sense as to why Mifa is dreaming at any rate though she doesn't recall being injured. Her brows furrow as she realise that the more she thinks about it, the harder it seems for her to recall anything specific about the recent days.

"Not quite," Ayana said and leaned forward, her crimson eyes searching the teenager's hazel ones. " Miss Zannah, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you're dead."

Mifa sat there for a moment in stunned silence, then shook her head and laughed. "Nice joke, is this some kind of trick the guys put together?" The black-haired teenager momentarily forgot that this was supposed to be a dream and began to look around for cameras or people peeking in, getting their laugh out of it. She was a bit discomfited to find no evidence of any of that...

"No, no joke I'm afraid," Ayana said, "you've died. This is a place for processing, of sorts. An organisation called ESS, THE ETERNAL SANCTUARY SECTION."

"Processing? For what? Heaven? Hell?"

"Well, to be honest. I don't want to get into theological discussions about the existence of Heaven or Hell or what they are. All I can do is present you with the choice you now have. You can end; go into whatever kind of heaven or hell your own personal ideology and conscience create for you. Or you can stay here and help out."

Once again Mifa tried looking for cameras or snickering people. 'This had to be a joke.' 

She started opening drawers, in the vain hopes of finding some kind of recording device. The closing of the drawers became successively harder until she was yanking them open and slamming them shut.

"This is a dream. This is a joke," Mifa keeps on muttering to herself, over and over again.

"Miss Zannah, I can understand you're upset, but really —"

"You can understand?" The black-haired teenager yells, jumping up to loom over Ayana as she sits in her chair. "Well, I'm so happy that you can understand. That makes me feel so much better."

"Neither sarcasm nor temper tantrums will help or change the situation."

"I don't care. I'm not dead." Mifa crossed her arms over and glared down at Ayana as she remained standing, Mifa's expression daring Ayana to again say her.

Ayana opens the top file on her desk. "You fell do-" she began.

"I am not dead! I don't care what that damned file says!" The black-haired teenager protests, interrupting her.

"You fell down from your balcony and plunged four stories to your death."

"I didn't die!" She yelled again. "This is just a dream, some stupid dream I'm having while I wait to wake up in the hospital with probably a few broken bones and a headache."