SHORT STORY: A Death Study

Here's a short story from Jordan Ozubko, I'll post the first segement as a teaser and then a link to the rest since it's relatively long for the blog.

I

It was on that damp Parisian night that I died. I awoke the following morning to find that little in my setting had changed. The sun rose, the people were out, and I was in my room. In fact, nothing had changed.

Initially, I was utterly shocked and repulsed by the lies I was fed throughout my mortal life. In death, I was not condemned to hell, but instead I remained in my meek settings, pondering the circumstances of my death.I began smoking a cigarette, while watching the smoke dance off of the burning cherry at the end, it came to me. It must have come at some point after I drunkenly left the café and walked to my room. However, I see little benefits in dwelling on what cannot be changed, prevented, or altered. After all, what is the point of loathing and lamenting on your death after you spend decades loathing and lamenting your life? The purpose of these entries is to explain how I died one day and arose the next day .

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