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In the Palm of Your Hands

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Never in a million years, you would expect the walls of reality to crash around you.


It was Monday, and while they weren't the greatest of days, it started out fine. School, friends, copious amount of homework you did not want to do and would avoid until last minute. The only horrible part of the day was the fact that you had missed lunch because you lost your wallet, only to find it in your jacket pocket of all places.

So why, during a trip to the bathroom, did everything have to change? Why did the mirror ripple as an arm reached through? It made no sense at all and in an effort to leave, you were left panicked when the doors refused to open and no one had answered your calls.

"This is fucking insanity," you mumbled to yourself. The hand proceeded to reach forward as if searching for something. You attempted to look around, to distract yourself for only a moment, but your efforts were met in vain. And then it happened.


At some point during these events, the world had slowly started to melt and fade, blurring until the only things left were you and that one, dirty bathroom mirror. It got harder and harder to look away and soon, you felt yourself reaching forward. The hand was incredibly warm, almost burning yours as you felt a chill run down your spine. It gripped you back and you screamed, regretting immediately your actions as you were pulled forward through the mirror, the rippling reminding you of molten aluminum rather than glass. Your mouth slams shut in fear of the substance entering your mouth as you pass through. Moments later you're gasping for air, panic fading with each breath and you open your eyes slowly in relief. Nothing went into your mouth. You're still you, but you don't know for how long. The thought alone is sickening, but you push the idea out of your mind and instead focus on the sensation of floating, hair lifted weightless around you as you are slowly pulled forward by the hand, attached to an arm that seemingly goes on forever. And then you notice it. Head on, the world appeared black and empty, but in your peripheral vision, you can see colours moving slowly, blobs of yellows and blues, purples and greens and everything in between dancing, blending, changing. It's welcoming, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter day, though you can't help but notice something's off. They move towards you and you feel warm, eyes lulling shut, vision fading until–



Your eyes snap open.


Red everywhere.

The source is unknown, but that's the least of your worries right now. Everything here is confusing and, oh, shit. You can't move. Your body is left frozen in fear as it covers you, holding tight as you grow cold. Metal clanks, and you roll your eyes towards the source.

You're laying on the ground, and next to you lies a blade sitting in a pool of red.. Your hair, draped around your face, is dripping red as you move and you soon realize your arms and legs are too. Your jacket is gone, discarded among the mess and you finally notice where you are.



Your brain is sluggish as it tries to piece together what has been happening. You're...  home, somehow, on the ground, cold but covered in something warm and red. There is no sound besides your laboured breathing. Your chest hurts as everything comes to perspective.

Yelling, arms and words flying, both with enough force to send you into the walls. At school, jacket on even though the weather is too warm for it. Your friends smiling and laughing, calling you over until they see your face, expressions falling as they take in your bruises and red eyes. You smile, telling them it's nothing as you hurry them to class, claiming you'll be late and wanted to avoid detention again. They laugh to lighten the mood, recalling the handful of times you have gotten into trouble with the two of them. Gotten in trouble because of the two of them. You remember going to class, getting reprimanded by the teacher for yet again forgetting your homework as some classmates and friends snicker. Getting looks, comments from people about your appearance, your friends not doing anything to help. Going to lunch and acting like you forgot your wallet so no one could tell you couldn't afford a meal, not like you wanted one anyway.


Heading to gym, hiding in the bathroom stall to change."Girl problems," you had said as an excuse to avoid everyone and their watchful, judgemental eyes.

Faking an injury to go to the nurse, just to hang out in the east hall bathroom, old and lesser maintained with an unconventional lock on the main door so it was mostly avoided by students and able to deter the few who do venture here. Trying to relax, to catch your breath as the panic and anxiety take over, fingers assaulting your thighs as you scratch and claw in a desperate attempt to get a grip on yourself. The anxiety fades, leaving you shaking and empty. Splashing your face and washing your hands, thankful for dark clothes as you grab your backpack and unlock the door, making the long journey to your final class as you scratch at your wrist, hidden inside of your jacket to ease your nerves.

You remember feeling emptier than before during the last hour of school, taking notes robotically as the clock ticks slowly. Of walking out the school gates towards your house, panic subsiding as you find yourself alone, taking the opportunity to lock yourself in your room as you turn on your laptop and begin watching a show that has always made you smile.

"Plus Ultra..." You whisper along, barely able to utter the words as the episode ends and you make your way to the bathroom. Door locked, cabinet opened, searching for some things. Taking medicine for your headache that you just noticed you had. How many did it say to take? How many did you take?


Taking more just to be sure because God, your head was killing you.


You found something else among the items and you remember taking more time using it as your arms and legs begin hurting and then numb as you slowly lower yourself to the ground. You blink and find yourself flat on your back, shivering as you get more wet, metallic smell in the air. You see something moving out of the corner of your eye, black spots forming until–


You're in front of the bathroom mirrors, blinking as fingers begin moving through the glass.


And you wake with a start, sputtering and crying on a couch. The room is white and smells of disinfectant, like that of a hospital. Two objects of colour stand out, a deep mahogany desk and a man dressed in a navy suit seated behind.

"Hello,” he greets.“Nice to finally see you awake. Well, depending on your view of ‘awake,’ given the events." His laugh is deep and it takes you another minute before you can even think. Eyes trained on him, you open your mouth to speak, voice shaking.

"Aren't I dead? Why am I in a hospital?" He blinks at you and looks around as if surveying his office for the first time.

"I hadn't realized this was a hospital. As you said, yes, you are dead. Rather sad for your age, wouldn't you think? So young, so much potential , and I find you here in front of me?” He shakes his head, sighing. “As for this being a hospital, this is only a figment of your imagination, best suited to put you at ease to help your mind cope best to your situation. With all the people I see, I've stopped noticing my surroundings. Do forgive me for my surprise." He looks at you with a warm smile and stands, offering out his hand. Gingerly you reach to him, lips pulled back into a  tentative smile.

"I'm what your kind refers to as 'Death' or ‘The Grim Reaper’, although I would much rather go by my overall term as this 'God' although please, feel free to call me whatever you'd like." At the announcement of his name your eyes widen.

Death? The taker of souls, guider of spirits? And God? The almighty dude who could smite me?

"Um, okay then, uh... Death? Grim? God? Can I just call you sir for now…? Because I'm gonna need more of an explanation." You respond in confusion.

"Sure thing (y/n). I am what you're world calls 'God.' See all hear all, stuff like that. While I can bring back the dead, end diseases, create everything from nothing, I chose to not interfere as it can mess with the balance of the world. Everything has a purpose and a reason, so I mainly use my time guiding people once they die. I ease their minds, inform them of their passing and help them move on to live their afterlife. The whole concept of Heaven and Hell are not entirely true as the afterlife is merely one place, though most religions hold some fact, my favourite being reincarnation." With that word he grins at you, standing from his chair and walking around the desk to be closer to you. "I am here to offer you the chance at life anew. I hate to say it, but you did not live that good of a life before coming here."

That earned a bitter laugh from you. "No shit Sherlock." You responded back. He muttered to himself about humans and their vocabulary before turning back to you.

"Life is not fair, and sometimes the cards are dealt wrong. This world was cruel to you, and I wanted to give you another shot to live life. So, and don't get upset, I went through your memories, took what made you happiest and I think I've found the perfect thing.


See, there are many different worlds and parallels in existence. In one world, your life may just be a movie whereas to you, in this parallel on this planet, it is your life. Understand?"


Brows furrowed you nodded. While his long speeches were beginning to confuse you, you felt a good enough understanding on what he was saying.


Alive in one world, a character in the next. Real and fake.


As if reading your thoughts he nods, smile still on his face.


"Exactly. If you accept, I can give you a life in another reality. While you may no longer be (y/n) (l/n), you will be alive in a better environment than before. "


I'm dead. Not much left to lose. Yolo.  The thought struck you as funny. The use of such an old term and after everything that just happened caused a small giggle escaped your lips. How could anyone tell you-you lived once if God was just going to give you another one.


Level up!


Death the God Reaper man stuck his arm out again.


"By shaking my hand you agree to this new life. While you may be reborn, it will not be as an infant. This life will be new to you but old for those around you. It will take time for previous 'memories' to come to you but this world should be familiar enough that you won't need them right away."


His words stuck to you as you reached out. A logical explanation to not knowing where or who you are, but wouldn't people be suspicious if you completely forgot your entire existence in just one day?


As your fingers connected your vision turned black. God's grip tightened on you as everything melted away and you were keenly aware that your body felt weak again. The headache you had previously returned tenfold and you cried out as sounds appeared, deafening you. A bright flash of light and the hand pulled tighter as a voice called out-

"Have no Fear, for I am here!"

And this time when blackness fell upon you, you faded with it.