The light at the end of the tunnel

I always believed that there was no afterlife, that after death we would simply stop existing. The whole phenomenon of "the light at the end of the tunnel" was absurd to me. I considered the people exclaiming "I saw the light" after waking up in cold sweat fools.

Yet here I stand, corrected of my notions, slowly gravitating towards the glaring light. The last thing I remember was me resting in my room in the barracks when i felt a burning pain at my neck and my vision slowly descending.

Not a surprise that someone would want me dead, after all working as his right hand man, one makes many enemies.

 'So, if heaven and hell does exist shouldn't there be flames and screaming awaiting me at the end?' I thought to myself. I knew for sure I was not a saint, after the amount of killing I had done hell was the only destination for me.

It seems like fate has other plans however. When I reached the end I was greeted with blurred browns and reds and muffled noises. Another presence beside made itself known by issuing a weak cry. I tried to speak but the only noise which came out was a similar cry.

"Congratulations Sir and Madam, they are healthy twin boys." Excuse me what? Normally people would think 'have I just been reborn' , but what I thought was 'Does this means I have to survive puberty and school again?'. I also noticed that I understood the language which gave me some form of relief.

After regaining my vision I scanned my surroundings expecting to be in the white room of hospitals, instead I saw a dimly lit room that looked that it came out of a satanic ritual. Noticing my doctor I saw a face riddled with wrinkles and greying facial and head hair with glasses thick enough to stop bullets.

I looked around and spotted my apparent parents, my father had a sharp and clean shaven face with ashen hair and blue eyes and V shaped eyebrows. However his idiotic grin and teary eyes ruined my assumption of him being stern.

My mother on the other hand radiated a motherly warmth and beauty, she had a gentle face, perky nose ,distinct auburn hair and brown eyes.

" Hi little Art , little Fay, I'm your daddy. Can you say dada?" said my father. I deadpanned at the sheer idiocy of him, hoping it is due to the emotions of having children. I saw the doctor roll his eyes and my mother scoff at the edge of my vision. "Honey, they were just born" my mother said.

"Hmm, they aren't crying. Doctor I thought newborns were supposed to cry when they were born" my mother asked. By the time i finished observing my immediate surroundings I heard the doctor lazily replying, "There are cases where the infant does not cry. Please continue resting for a couple of days Mrs. Leywin, and let me know if anything happens to the boys, Mr. Leywin."

The following couple of weeks after was a new kind of hell for me. I had little to no motor control over my limbs nor over my excretion. I also learned that babies don't grab your finger because they like you, its a reflex that causes them to grab it.

On the bright side I had an excuse to be lazy and relax. Oddly enough my brother wasn't like the typical baby. I also found out that my name was Fayden Leywin and my brother's , Arthur Leywin.

I also found out we were born in our parents room. I hoped that this was my world in a time without electricity, in the forgotten past. However all my hopes were obliterated when one day our mother healed my brothers leg from a scratch he got after our father recklessly swung him around. It was not a motherly bandage-and-kiss type of heal no it was a full blown green light emitting from my mothers hand, which led me to wonder 'Where the hell am I and why am I here?'