Cripple in a wheelchair

'I've always felt alone my whole life. I don't know if I like or if its because I'm used to it, but I know this'

Being alone your whole life, changes you.

The wheelchair creaked as Larian's grip tensed for a moment. He sighed in the inevitability of his situation and removed the plastic bag that had stuck to his face.

A kid a few meters away had thrown it haphazardly and it accidentally blew onto Larian's face.

The surge of anger at the unjust mistake welled up to his throat but remained there. No words escaped.

Crushing the bag into a ball and tossing it into a nearby bin, Larian pushed his wheelchair forward. He was heading home this afternoon.

*Creak ... *creak .... *creak....

The wheelchair's rhythmic noise eventually faded as thoughts and imagination slowly clouded his mind with each push.

Within Larians emotion he held onto his hatred of the earlier coincidence.

'Today he is going to face an unjust scenario.' Larian spoke in his head

As his thoughts concentrated on something concrete he realized he had reached his house. He instinctively reached for his keys, mind still in thought as he opened the door and entered.

Larian continued to his room, the chatter of the television in the living room could almost be silent in his ears.

"Back, son?"

A voice from the couch in front of the television broke Larians thoughts.

"Yes, Dad. From the hospital"

The conversation made Larian pause. It was like an awkward silence if this situation wasn't a common theme in the household.

Larian was considered antisocial even before something had happened to his legs. He always had trouble speaking his mind in fear of what he would say.

And whenever he would speak, he would find himself deliberating on the things he said

'The conversation wouldn't have been awkward if I said something like this instead' Larian always told himself.

But this social isolation was not entirely unfounded. 6 years ago when he was 20, he got in an accident involving a driver who suffered a stroke on the road.

The driver died in the crash while Larian had his knee rammed and smashed against the wall. His legs were forever handicapped after the incident.

It was not the entire cause of his isolation, but for someone like Larian who was already struggling as he is, the misery encapsulated in this accident did him no favors.

In the school that he had already dropped out of, barely anyone talked to him, no one had asked him about the incident. It might have been his awkward conversations or gloomy expression, but it seemed like no one would talk to Larian.

It was almost as if the world was avoiding him.

Larian had already grown accustomed to the single-sentence conversation and stayed quiet while he entered his room, shutting the door behind him.

His room was dark and bland. There would have been sunlight if not for Larian's preferences on dim lighting when he writes. The only source of light he allows is a small lamp that only illuminates the desk.

On the desk lay a manuscript which he has been working on. It told the story of a farmer boy who grew up meeting a girl. She was the daughter of an adventurer who happened to stay by his village.

The girl dreaming of greatness decided to enroll into a prestigious school in hopes of becoming an adventurer like her father.

The farm boy who fell in love with the girl decided to leave with the girl to help accomplish her dream and enter the academy as inseparable lovers.

Larian lifted his pen and continued writing the story, his thoughts focused and clear.

Borrowing the emotions he reserved earlier, he poured his imagination onto the paper.

'An unjust situation… The world turns hostile towards him, his girlfriend despises him, friends turn against him and his classmates start to bully him.'

In such a bleak setting Larian finally puts down his pen for a rest, his chest feels light all of a sudden and he can't explain why.

He stares out the only window in the room. The curtains were drawn so the room was dark and there was not much to look at.

But from the gaps of the curtain, even a glimmer of light would piece through no matter how small.

This put Larian in thought. Finally he grew some inspiration and continued working on the book.

'When the world treats him so harshly, there is always hope. Just not in the academy, through constant suffering he finally found his goal through an unusual teacher in the forest.'

With a slightly better ending Larian finally felt tranquil. An emotion he had trouble finding in the hotbed of depression in his life.

A sudden headache caused Larian to flinch.

'I stayed up too late this time. It's already 3am in the morning.'

Massaging his head, Larian got himself ready for bed.

That night a strange dream manifested, he seemed to retain his lucidity this time.

'Is this a lucid dream? I've never experienced something like this before.'

In the dream a dark environment stretched all around, a thin layer of fog seemed to fill the ground.

Lucian tried to imagine different images or will out any objects but nothing seemed to change the environment.

Suddenly a deep and low voice resounded the empty space

"Welcome, Larian."

From the depths on the fog, a figure rose. The figure had a undescribable frame, he or she was wearing a grey hooded robe with no features. Even peculiarly it seemed there was nobody in it!

'Who is this? An invisible man in robes?'

"I am nobody important. The voice of the afterlife, the grey robe living in fog. My identity is not important, what I can offer you is."

Larian almost jumped in fright if he could, but his disability seemed to carry on in the dream world. He couldn't jump.

'You heard what i said? In my head? Wait, do you hear this too?'

The self proclaimed 'nobody' chuckled, his grey robe fluttered as he replied:

"Yes in this place most thoughts are laid bare, including mine. There is no need to mask your emotions here, for there are no secrets hidden in the face of God."

Larian mind stuck on one key word the figure said

'God? And you talking about afterlife? It's all real?'

The figure appeared to stay motionless giving a machine reply in a monotonous tone, as if it answered this question many times before.

"There is much to be sceptical of in this world, so it is no longer a surprise to learn of how little people believe in anything. Though I am not god. It is by God's will that you are sent here."

Slightly panicked, Larian almost raised his voice if his thoughts earlier were considered speaking.

"Where is this? Heaven or hell ? But I haven't died!"

Larian looked down at himself, his body seemingly pristine. His pyjamas and physic bore no wounds.

'I couldn't have been murdered in my sleep could I? There's no way I died!'

The figure had no expressions but the earlier chuckle gave the impression that he was still smiling as he spoke.

"Your wild imagination is commendable. We all have doubts just like many before you. But look back to your last memory, think on it and look in your heart, it will be for the best."

Slightly bewildered, Larian took the figure's response to heart and thought about his last night.

Larian pondered: 'I was alone in my room at home, it was dark. I closed the door to not get interrupted in my writing. Even my window was closed. The room was… stuffy to say the least, but the isolation was what gave me comfort to write."

"Stuffy… But I was sure the AC was always on which should have provided ventilation. A malfunction? Did I die in my sleep while suffocating because the AC broke? '

The figure finally nodded.

"Yes, you're right. Under normal circumstances such a death is not possible. But fate has never been kind to mankind, especially not to you. You have my sympathy."

Larian, mind blank, stared at the figure. He couldn't believe it. He died after all he's been through?

'The loneliness, the accident, the misfortune. 26 Years of hell on earth and this is what I get? No rewards after hardship, no brighter days, no reconciliation. Just sympathy from the reaper of the afterlife.'

Larian thoughts were in scrambles. The Figure stayed silent for Larian to collect his thoughts.

"This can't be it right? I toiled away all my life enduring all this hardship and bad luck to die like this. Please… There has to be something else!"

The Figure finally replied: "I am not a reaper. Just a stranger on your road to the afterlife, nothing more, nothing less."

"But I understand your pea, for many of us the road is a difficult one, but the path is always there for us to follow. It is clear that you fell as many before you, but in habit you have stayed still never continued walking along your path"

Larian felt a burst of anger, in normal circumstances he would never blurted out his thoughts. But here, all thoughts here were exposed.

'But look at me, the world turned its back against me! This miserable state of being trapped in a wheelchair for the rest of my damn life. I thought I could control my emotions, contain it, just to prove the world wrong, but I was just too weak. Whenever I found strength to break the shackles I let it slip through my fingers. It's a losing fight from the start!'

Tears were flowing down Larians cheeks, but there was no wetness, only emptiness as the droplets faded before they dripped down from his face.

"I pray for the well-being of all good people on Earth, but we can't expect God to do all the work. Your misfortune is indeed the worst among most men, but it happens."

"This purgatory is a place of repentance. A place of purification or punishment before one fully passes on. I would usually console those unfortunate enough before handing them over."

"However, I would like to offer you a choice."

The figure held out his right hand: "First, I take your memories and pass you on to the river below. This way you reincarnate in peace, no suffering, no trauma , nothing will bind you in your new life."

He continued and lifted his left arm this time: "Or I preserve all your memories, the suffering, the setbacks and all your depression will stay with you as you wake in the new world."

Larian gulped, but there was no sensation in his throat. Was his life worth clinging onto?

'I lived till an age of 26 there were barely any life experiences worth mentioning. I have gotten used to loneliness and lived my life as a cripple. I was broken, defective and full of emotional problems. My mind was always stuck in a never ending loop of anxiety, depression and despair.'

Larian looked down, beneath the fog was a river. In the reflection he saw his face. As if examining himself he saw the rough exterior of his skin, his eyelids were heavy, his natural face was starting to form a frown, this gloomy expression told the tale of his internal struggles every night.

'Fond memories or things worth holding on to? My friends looked right past me after the accident, the rest of my family abandoned me. Nobody wants a cripple, especially one that would need your help, my Dad who lets me live with him could be the only one worth mentioning.'

'Dad… He always spoke so little and his expression was hard to read since he made none. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I passed without a proper goodbye. To live with the fact that your child has died before you of older age must be hard to swallow, but maybe then I can finally see a change in his expression. I only hope he mourns for me.'

Larian blinked, finally making him mind.

"I wish to forget everything. All this pain, all this suffering. If I remember this past, it will only hold me back in my next life. I don't wish for the same suffering ever again."

The Figure was silent as it starred, or seemed to stare at Larian for a good minute.

He finally gave out a sigh as he turned around, his robes swirling as he slowly shifted away

"I see… so be it, God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his heart the breath of life so I shall respect your wishes as I God's Willing."

As the figure seemed to descend down into the fog in steps, Larian called out.

"Wait, before you go! …My novel, it was recommended by my doctor and it was for my therapy but it ended up as a story. I wished for it a happy ending unlike how I turned out. If possible, would you be able to give it one before I go?"

The figure, already halfway through the ground, turned his head and peered for a moment.

"Is this your most sincerest wish?"

Larian, seemingly excited at the prospect of having at least one final wish granted, replied in a hurry.

"Yes, I wish the story would have a happy closure. If not for me then at least for my Dad and doctor who actually gave their best to help."

The figure gave a nod and continued his descent, this time uninterrupted.

Larian finally sensing his time, laid upon the fog floor. His body seemed to descent as he entered the river.

'I guess this is it. This is my conclusion, this is my end.'

He closed his eyes as he remembered his upbringing, he remembered his Dad, he remembered the nurses and doctor, he remembered everyone who has tried to help him.

'I'm sorry, I wish all of you the best, farewell everyone.'