Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Warning: Contains allusions to death and suicide as well as unspecified religious beliefs.

Page 613 of 2012

My first recognition of consciousness coincided with the last gasping breath of the first human to walk this earth. 

In the millisecond difference between my moment of consciousness and the time it took for the human to open its eyes, I had already acquired the life of every person who would ever walk this earth. I remember how he woke clutching his chest, long matted hair covering his wide nose and lips, red berry juice staining outside his mouth. The grunts he had made did not reflect a language pattern, only primal noises of fear and adrenaline filling the empty square room around us, safe for one door. When the man's eyes looked up to reach me the noises quieted and his breathing slowed. I felt the need to gesture toward the door to my right, the man left with no other choice had walked, opened the door, and stepped into the glowing light waiting to welcome him. 

More of these humans appeared in front of me, dying in increasingly strange ways. Each one opened their eyes and found the door as their only option, aside from talking to me. I do not know how I appeared to the humans, all I know is that my presence seemed to calm them, and when I gestured to the door they obliged with little hesitation. I watched with curiosity as the humans developed their languages, formed cultures, and created a world. When they appeared to me some began to talk and time compacted just so I could listen to each one willing to speak to me. By the end of our conversations though, they returned to the door. The door became a captivation of mine, and as the humans talked to me I began to understand what it was to them. 

When some of the humans spoke to me, they spoke of what happened after they died. Some spun tales of all-knowing entities deciding their fate, of living again, of living in eternal bliss, the other side, the glowing light. They would get bits and pieces of the truth right and each time they did so I wondered how they had acquired the knowledge, and seemingly each time this question was ready to be asked, the humans would turn toward the door and let the cool white light embrace them. The door and the light consequently, were their end. When they stepped through the doorway they would return to their mortal earth as the energy that created them. This is another thing that human knowledge explains. Matter can not be created or destroyed, their energy of living does not go away. The bones will rot and the ground will cover the body they inhabited but the energy of consciousness will fall back onto the earth, ready to start the creation of life anew. And as this thought had filled my mind another one occupied my being. The only thing different from me to the humans was my ability to choose. The door was an option to me as well, a deep knowing brought this thought to me, but, I could choose to turn the handle, the humans did not have this choice, this was simply the last thing to them, the end. This is how I chose my name, Will, my free will is the only thing marking me as different in this room, aside from whatever being I am seen as to the humans. 

I viewed my position as a gift, I would listen to the stories of the dead, and their lives filled my being. The grey came with such joy to them, they told me stories of their children, of all the happy moments that befell them as the years passed, and they told me secrets that had never seen the earth. When the young came to me I felt sorrow for the life they would not be able to tell me about, for the joy they did not feel. When the wars started the room would fill with the cries of humans that had only seen hate as they died. I would take special time for these entities of grief, comforted only by the fact that the pain would stop as they walked to the door. The rationale behind these deaths did not fall dead on my being, the hate that encompassed this world was overcoming the joy most felt as a calling. 

As the number of people grew in the mortal realm my knowledge also grew. I had begun to realize that my collection of time did not match that of the humans. As they came to me they spoke of years passing and this seemed obscure to me. All the people who came to me existed at the same time, so as I met with the first man to die I also spoke with the last woman to live.

Her name was Evelyn and she came barefooted and burned, but she was greyed and loud. She acknowledged the door when her eyes opened but made no effort to move toward it, instead turning toward my figure and beginning her life. She spoke fast and rich in her experiences. There was no negativity in her words as her childhood, marriage, and death flowed from her head. There was no knowledge I could share with this woman, she was the last woman on earth for over seven years, and her ability to communicate had no limits. 

The burned had come to me in large numbers years ago, but I did not notice the absence of death until I was faced with the last human. They spoke of war and hate, the deaths they faced did not weigh out the justification. 

Evelyn did not die to the god of metal, her burns were purposeful. Her hair she told me was once fiery and red in her youth and she thought it poetic to die by the same color the world first saw her as. She spoke for as long as her voice would allow her, Evelyn was still mortal after all. When I gestured to the door she spoke for the last time. 

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.”

Could the humans feel the calling of what would occur once they entered the door? Or possibly would they feel the calling of peace, of returning to the start? This question ached my being while Evelyn walked to her end and as the door shut mechanically behind her I felt my choice made.

This is when the journal appeared behind me and the knowledge of the past surfaced to my presence.

I write now to this journal, 613 pages from the start, 612 times I have done this before. This journal contains 2012 pages and once they run out I know the door will move on, a higher purpose to receive. I make the choice now to walk toward the door, I make the choice now to return to dust and try again.

Will holds the journal as his being moves to the door. The room around him is blackening as his dread grows for the humans. Will believes in his humans and their ability to change. He is lost in the pursuit of hope for the 614th page. The door opens for Will, and as he moves to the light the mortal earth he had come to care for falls into darkness. The energy of his dust falls with the darkness, knowledge of his presence, and purpose covering every crevice of the new earth, awaiting the human's arrival. 

The journal falls at the very same time, opening to the 614th page as the door shuts after Evelyn, falling behind Will as he stares to the door at the end of the long white hall.