I

Meeting the Maker

  Matvei Andreivich Stolovsky stood there, eyes glaring, completely slack-jawed; his entire being unable to absorb the reality of the event he'd just witnessed. 'It couldn't happen. Impossible.' he thought to himself, unable to speak. He'd seen the flash from across the street and almost instantly, he felt himself choking on a ******'s seven millimeter bullet.
He felt the sticky warmth slither down his neck; his hands began to tremble. Next, it was his knees. Less than a half second later, the tunnel vision came. Finally, the darkness of oblivion took complete possession of him.
  His limp body crashed into a tangled pile next to the American made leather chair he'd spent so many evenings in, planning, plotting, scheming, scraping, scratching, clawing, losing sleep at night, wondering if he'd done everything within his power to avoid this very occurrence. Now, here it was, the end. One by one, each of Stolovsky's hopes, dreams, and aspirations flowed freely from his body, exiting through the **** left by the ******'s bullet. All was lost; all of his work and worry, in vain; or, so it seemed.
  'I, I'm not...,' the words spun through his dying mind. He ceased to notice reality; he no longer felt the choking sensation in his throat; instead reality became the written words, 'I, I'm not...,' actually spinning inside his mind; which, at the present time, for an unknown reason, was colored as a cloud would be, with a pinkish-orange haze. These words, currently soaring effortlessly through Stolovsky's perception of consciousness, were balloon like in appearance, each and every color represented in some way, shape, or form; each pixel doing it's part to reproduce the amazingly beautiful, but horrifying images, revealing the true nature of humanity against the infinite pinkish-orange haze that never began, and never ends.
  I, I'm, the two commas, not, and even the ellipsis, who was there as well, shot up and down, spinning and swirling in every direction, flashing and snapping as they traversed the endless expanse of Stolovsky's new found purgatory.
  A few moments later, Stolovsky realized he was actually viewing this spectacle, the inside of his mind, as we've chosen to call it, in the third person. He watched what appeared to be himself floating through space towards his current vantage point. Matvei squinted his dark brown eyes to try and get a better look. 'Is that me?' he asked himself. 'I can't be in a good way there,' he continued; 'that is almost certainly bad.'
  As he made his observations, a cold northern wind began blowing violently, chilling what would've been his nose. 'Is it there?' Stolovsky thought to himself, startled. 'Could it be? Here and there, all at once?'
Then, without warning, the pinkish-orange haze oozed a deep, dreary red; and the written words, that so violently shared the truth of mans nature with Matvei, transmuted into a pack of ravenous dogs; howling and wailing, foaming at the mouth, as they began to tear each other to shreds. The flesh and blood flew in all directions; painful yelps, angry, threatening growls, and the sound of tissue being torn from the bone filled the air.
  The violence of the atrocity dripped from the mouths of the dead dogs and ran flowing across the expanse; the river of life unleashed, meandering through the empty vacuum until it began to swirl and pool at the feet of Matvei's double.
Stolovsky felt the sickness of the act wash over him, striking his presence in much same way as an angry ocean wave, bitter from it's long journey, unleashes it's pent up fury on the piling of an unfortunate fishing pier.
  Matvei's double was bound by his hands and feet; he was bleeding from the corner of his right eye. Stolovsky noticed how the double's crows feet dispersed a briskly flowing river of la sangre into thin streams of liquid ruby; some of them traveled over and into his ear, others ran flowing down his cheek before becoming nutrient, consumed by the roots of his tangled black beard. His shirt was tattered; the gaping holes revealed hideous wounds, partially obscured by the ***** blue linen still loosely draped around the double's upper-body. It was a nice sweater once, but no longer.
  The double screamed frantically, wrestling his wrists in a futile effort to free his hands of the burdensome chains fastened tightly around them. Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, Stolovsky's twin began laughing the laugh of a mad child; a child who has just seen something that no one else could ever know. Matvei felt the scent of freshly cut lilac drift through him; then, as suddenly as all it began, everything stopped.

  A woman's voice filled the air from every direction.

  “Well, now you've gone and done it, haven't you?” she spat. The voice was surprisingly present, though there was no apparent source. “Haven't you, you fool?” she continued.
Neither Stolovsky felt compelled to answer, so both remained silent. The auditory assault continued, “Answer me while you still have the pleasure of a tongue, Matvei!” The venomous sounds came as an echo, rippling up Stolovsky's spine in thunderous waves that seemed to penetrate to his very core, making what would've been the tiny black hairs on what would have been his thin, serpent-like neck, stand on edge.He knew not what to say to this invisible creature, so he maintained his silent vigil, hoping no further harm would come to him; his double followed suit.
  Stolovsky watched as his twin continued wrestling with his chains, apparently completely befuddled by all that he was experiencing. Who could blame him for being confused? This wasn't the type of situation folks typically find themselves in.
  The silence prevailed for a few more moments, until Matvei felt the smooth, cool, silk of her flowing robe as it danced on the cold wind of the north, lashing out every so often to lick him behind the ear or slither across the back of his neck. The vibration of the silk flowing through crisp, cool, air sent shivers bounding outwards across the landscape, causing poor Stolovsky to feel as though the very particles holding him together were being stretched to point of separation, then snapped back into place with a brutality that simply can't be captured with words.
  Matvei was petrified by these goings-on, and refused to even consider what unwholesome outcome may transpire should he turn to face this unholy presence; instead, he focused his attention to his double, who was staring back towards the image. Matvei struggled to read himself; his double appeared dumbstruck, like a man who has just realized that his whole heart belongs to an evil that terrifies him, yet simultaneously, it fills him with an unshakable love; the unrequited love that an unfortunate slave feels for it's tyrant.

“I had a plan for you, my dear;” her whisper ruthlessly pounded at Matvei's overwhelmed senses. His entire environment shifted and trailed off; his vision useless, a muddy smokescreen of shapes and colors bleeding into and breathing out of one another.

“A glorious plan, indeed,” she continued, her whisper becoming the hiss of a rattle snake, then slowly shifting pitch, going through every mode, until it was in perfect tune with the deep resounding purr of a well pleased kitten. Which, as fate would have it, was exactly the creature that had taken a seat in front of Matvei's double. The double, still suspended in mid-air, continued wrestling with his chains and screaming madly at the swirling pool of blood at his feet; the vision of the dogs violence still dominating his feeble mind.

Being so occupied, Matvei's double took no notice of the small black kitten as it lapped at the blood between its long and bassy purrs.

“You're without that precious body of yours these days, Sweet Matvei!” The woman explained.

“Or, maybe you've yet to notice that as well? You thick headed pig!”

Stolovsky's vision returned; he was back inside his body. He was the double.

“How's that, dear? Better?” the blood stained kitten at the edge of the swirling pool purred sweetly.

Stolovsky didn't respond and turned his gaze upward. He saw her for the first time; she was beautiful, ungodly so.

“Clean your head up, you animal! How dare you think of me that way!” she laughed.

Her voice returned to what one would expect from such a beautiful creature; the sweet vibrations of a woman, flirtatious and soothing to the ear of any man.

“I'm flattered, really, but we hardly know each other. At least, you hardly know me. Though, sometimes it is best that way, I admit!” she mused, finishing the thought.

“But, on to business then, shall we?”

“I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?” the words escaped Stolovsky's lips as though they were not set free by choice, but of necessity, by reflex alone.

“No. By the looks of it, you really don't, do you?” the spirit retorted.

“Who are you!?” Stolovsky screamed, unsure if he wanted an answer.

“I wouldn't raise my voice to her if I were you, dearie.” purred the kitten, as if it were attempting to instigate some sort of violent reaction from the spirit.

Those kittens, one must always be wary of a blood stained kitten! It is a thing to avoid, afterlife or otherwise. Be that as it may, the kitten's attempt at being the provocateur seemed to have quite the opposite effect.

“My name is not important.” she sang, her voice continuing to astound Matvei's senses, the sweetest evil you'd ever want to hear.

“You can call me Jehovah if you'd like!” she laughed as she spoke.

“Right now, you are my child, my sovereign property. I can do with you whatever I wish!” she paused for a moment, to allow Stolovsky the opportunity to recognize the gravity of the situation.

He did not.

She continued on, her voice shifting again,

“And let me tell you, boy, you've been a great disappointment! Did you know that?”

The rumbling of her tone, the changes in her pitch, were beginning to drive Matvei mad; he'd never heard anything like it! It was absolutely nauseating.

He attempted to gather himself; this was all so confusing. After all, wasn't he dead? Should he fear this, this, whatever it was? He controlled his anxiety enough to ask,

“What are you?”

“She's your new master, Matvei! And a wonderful master, indeed. You are very fortunate!” chirped the blood stained kitten.

“I believe he was asking me, X. Away with you, you ***** kitten!” Immediately, X vanished into thin air. Stolovsky stared downward, mesmerized, as his double was, by the pool of blood swirling beneath him.

“Am I dead?” he asked the goddess.

“You don't even know what that means, you idiot! Besides, you'll be worse off than whatever you think you are now if you keep asking silly questions. Now shut up and listen to me!” she replied.

“There is someone I'd like you to meet.”

As she said this, it appeared to Stolovsky as though the layer of existence that he had, until this very moment, believed himself to be in full occupation of, swelled outward at an amazing speed. It was as if he'd become as tiny as a quark and yet, he continued to become tinier still. He could see nothing recognizable; the sheer brilliance of giant photons zapping through space was enough to blind him. Even as he noticed this, they became infinitely larger, like suns themselves.

Stolovsky felt as though he were falling through it all, becoming smaller and smaller; or, was everything else growing larger and larger? He struggled to reposition his body. The intense pressure of the experience was becoming unbearable.

He could feel his rib cage sinking, his heart struggling, his lungs collapsing as he desperately clung to whatever consciousness this was that he was currently experiencing. X, the blood stained kitten, appeared to him just as she had been moments before.

“It feels strange doesn't it?” she asked.

“What is happening to me?” Stolovsky replied, struggling with the words.

“You're dying the Second Death. Don't worry, it'll only take a minute.”

Before the kitten could finish the sentence, Stolovsky's eyeballs popped, hurling frozen droplets of organic material in all directions.

The frozen droplets would continue to fly on for many years, some straight through into eternity. A few would be so fortunate as to crash into other, much larger, groups of particles and give rise to some very interesting lifeforms. Who, as fate would have it, would go on to destroy one another, along with one-third of their known universe, trillions of smaller universes, and something that may amount to a shoelace being vaporized in my level of existence, in a great war a few hundred billion years later. But alas, a story for another time.

“Oh, wow. That was much quicker than expected, Old Boy!” purred the kitten, pleased at this unforeseen turn of events. "Dr. Orville will be so pleased to learn of our improvement! I must tell the Master straight away!"

And once again, that silly blood stained kitten disappeared. Things were about to get very interesting for Mr. Stolovsky. The Third Life awaits.