Prologue - This World

In this world you are either gifted or inadequate—though inadequate is just a soft word for useless. The prey get preyed on and the predators sit on top of the world. Unfair you might say. Harsh you might say. But the god of this world is cruel—if there is a god—It would be even more unfair.

To be happy is having the emotions to feel satisfaction, joy, and fulfillment, yet the emotion only lasts for a split second. So what fulfillment are you feeling? What satisfaction do you feel that only lasts for 2 minutes before reaching back to your normal state?

If you have no meaning to live in the first place, why are you able to experience death? If a god had put the weak people on earth why must they also put the elites? Why couldn’t they create a separate world for them?

Anger, hatred, confusion, sadness, horror, and pain were all I felt when I plummeted to my death. Do I get a second chance? I asked myself in hopes that a god truly existed and that he would lend me a hand.

But of course, it was only the world and it’s people that existed. There is no god in this world.

So I layed there, helplessly muttering to myself.

“I hate this world.”

Oh, how annoyed I felt. Oh, how much frustration I felt. Is this truly what your supposed to feel when your at the brink of death?

I wasn’t satisfied.

Weak. I was very weak. So of course I was the target of bullying. I had no friends to have my back. I had no one to lean to. I had no one to complain to. So of course, one day I eventually went insane.

The sky was a hue. The weather was perfect. And my mind? It was racing with emotions. My voice wanted to break. My head wanted to explode. My eyes were dry.

At the edge of the tall building, looking down below, cars moving, birds in a flock, and people walking normally on the sidewalk. It was almost as if I were to fall, right here, right now, everyone would just mind their own business. Not even a single person would care. Or that’s what I would think.

Every time I moved an inch closer my heart would beat faster. I wanted to live. I was dying to live. But there I was dying because my urge to live was too much to bear.

I wondered, would anyone remember me? I wondered, would anyone even care? I wondered, should I have done something instead of being weak?

It wasn’t my choice to be weak, but it was my choice to stay weak—which ended with my death.

I wondered, what does dying feel like? Because I was sure that this didn’t feel like death. It was cold, but then suddenly it was warm. It was loud, but then it got even louder. It was pitch black but then I suddenly saw a city landscape. And before me was a screen saying, “Welcome to The Afterlife Game.”

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