Great Reads by Suki

  I hate to burst your bubble, but heaven is just a small town with familiar faces, arrays, old people, young people, farmer’s markets, a sky, cafes, the weather. It feels like another small Mid-Western town that is yet to be ridden over by civilization but is almost there. I’m glad I died in the fall and the town was covered in tanned and dry autumn leaves here and there. Once I got here, I envied the dead. Those who had died earlier and I envied the living as well. I always dreamt of a forever and the fact that I was immortal now I almost felt doomed than, angelic. I felt lonely. Lonelier than I had ever felt my whole life on earth. In death, I was not supposed to feel, or so I thought. The feelings of the people I left behind, they haunted me every single minute. It almost felt like a knife was permanently gorged in my chest and every once in a while, someone would push it deeper and deeper and I was just waiting to die all over again. I could hear awful whispers every now and t...

I died when I was 17. I did not have anything as fanciful as a eulogy, or even the least, a funeral. When you die a death like mine, you barely get a final resting place or the roses placed around your place of final rest. Your grave smells of moss and other things that begin to grow. Some that I had never experienced in any of my 17 years of existence. A premature end, no one present to piece the stories together or to narrate the life and times if any. Comfortably in my grave, sitting there for the last couple of years, I decided to script a story of my own. Of the things I loved and the things I lived for. Of the things that hurt and those that brought a ton of joy. As I await judgment, I jolt down my eulogy, who would know, Mortui Vivos Docent, they say. A perfect narration of all my archetypes those that were seen and those that I only knew. Those that I role-played and those that actually existed. A beautiful coming to age, illustration of a dead girl's persons, shadows, anim...