Preview “Death, Death and More Death

Death, Death and More Death

“Hello, my name is Jana` Chantel and I am addicted to death.”

“Hello Jana`!” Although I can’t see them, I can still feel their presence. I guess I’m at something like Deaths Anonymous.

“I-I just can’t help it. I really don’t be meaning to. I just end up thinking about it.”

“Are you thinking about it now?” an authoritative voice asks me. And although the voice has some demand to it, there is still some sweetness and kindness behind it. So I can only assume that the voice is God and the others must be angels, former human beings whose mind had once been occupied with death.

“Yes,” I confess. Of course I have to be cliché and envision myself lying down on a black leather couch, pouring my heart and soul to my therapist, who is God.

“And how do you see yourself dying now?”

“I’m being stabbed to death.” I can feel the piercing stabs of a knife as it penetrates through my body. My stomach. My back. My neck. My chest. I heave and I try to catch my breath as I pull myself out of that vision. God just waits patiently as I gather myself together.

“What do you see?” he asks.

“I see a silhouette of a person. Maybe it’s a man. Maybe it’s a woman. The person breaks into my home and greets me in the kitchen as I am doing the dishes. They grab me by the neck. Two stabs to the stomach. One stab to the chest. A slit of the throat. I can feel the blood oozing out of me as my body drops to the floor.” I again begin to calm myself down.

“I see.”

There is silence between us for awhile. God is allowing me to collect my thoughts.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Maybe you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Maybe you aren’t,” God contradicts.

Silence.

“I just can’t help it. If someone else was in my situation, I’m sure they would be thinking about death too.”

“And by your “situation” you mean your mother being killed?”

“Yes.”

“And your father dying from cancer?”

“Yes.”

“And you getting shot?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

God laughs. “My child, I created you. I am the one who put you in this “situation”,” he laughs again. “Of course I see, more clearly than you can.”

I sigh. “You’re right.”

Silence.

“I feel like I am going crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Thank-you.”

“You’re just not normal,” God assures me.

“How could I be?” I say a little offended. “Nothing I’ve been through was normal.”

“You’re right.”

“And besides, no one is normal.”

“You’re right about that too.”

“And what is normal anyways?”

“That is a good question.”

I sigh. “Hello, my name is Jana` Chantel and I am addicted to death.”

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