"There are a great many people in this world who don't know how to live.
They are so caught up in their false pleasantries that the true meaning of life and all it contains is beyond them.
Strikingly fewer, are those who don't know how to die." - Dr. Lawrence Labelle, Labelle Funeral & Cremation Services
The last thing I really remember was their blinding headlights as they made a beeline towards the driver side of my Pontiac. That monstrous machine, commercial in design, collided with me instantaneously. I barely had time to notice that it had a pitbull decal right above the grill before it smashed me between itself and a wrought-iron guardrail. The pain of my body being irreversibly crushed like an ant under the foot of an unaware pedestrian did not even register before everything simply faded to black. There were no screams. There were no broken bones. There were no hemorrhages. There were no flashbacks. All there was, was me falling away from it all, into an endless expanse of black nothingness.
Eventually, the falling stopped. My momentum ceased. I could not feel my body. I could not move my arms, my legs, or my neck. It felt as if I had nothing to move at all. I could only stare around me, unblinking. It was quiet. I couldn't even hear the ringing of my tinnitus anymore. I could smell nothing. Taste nothing. I simply didn't exist anymore, and if I did, I could not sense that existence with my own body.
I don't know how long I floated in that void. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. It seemed impossible to tell. I was nowhere and yet seemingly everywhere at the same time. I kept floating until I heard a voice, directly in front of me, speaking in a strangely calm tone. It sounded like an older gentleman, nearing senility, and yet his tone was loud and clear enough that I could hear it as if I were directly in front of him.
"…Well. Are you going to stand there for an eon, or are you going to join me for a game?"
What?
I blinked, or, rather, I would have blinked, if I still had eyes. Except, I did have eyes. I hadn't had them a moment ago, but I had them now. I had eyes. And a nose. And a mouth from which to speak from. I had a body, complete with all my necessary extremities yet again. Whatever force was permitting all of this even set me up with a nice, collared shirt and blue jeans. It wouldn't have been my choice of afterlife attire, but nevertheless, it was better than nothing. Once I realized I existed again, I saw that another man existed, too. The man with the old voice. He sat at a shiny wooden table before me, dressed in a basic business suit and tie. I couldn't really make out his facial features, since they kept changing. One minute, his hair hung down to his shoulders, and he had a long nose and bushy eyebrows. The next, his eyebrows were gone, and so was his hair. I tried not to pay too much attention to it. Before him on the table was a chessboard complete with two sets of pieces carved from black and white marble, respectively. There were two chairs with beige cushions, one of which he was occupying, and another across from him that was still open.
With my returned eyes, I gazed up and met his own. He had this cold, uncaring look about him, neutral and empty in nature. He didn't seem angry or malicious or anything like that. More like he's just been through this a million times already and doesn't have the energy to pretend like he's interested anymore. Respectable, really.
After a moment or so of contemplation, I finally decided that I didn't really have much to lose, given that I had nowhere else to go in this otherwise empty space. So, I took a few steps forward and arrived at his table. I then eased myself down into my chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. Even after I took my seat, the man said nothing. He didn't blink, didn't raise an eyebrow, didn't do anything of note. He just waited for me, as the player with the white pieces, to make the first move. I had always been complete shit at chess, so I knew that this wasn't going to end in my favor. But at least now, I had some way to pass the time. I pondered my first move, looking over the pawns, the knights, the bishops, the king. I at least knew what all of the pieces did, so I had that going for me. Strategy was regrettably nonexistent. I eventually chose a pawn and moved it forward two spaces. Immediately, as I did so, the man spoke again, sounding like a narrator from one of those old-timey movies.
"You started out flawlessly," he began, as my fingers left the pawn. "You had everything you could have ever needed. A mother, a father, a rather comfortable childhood home and steady upper-middle class income. Your every need was met and catered to. You had no complaints, no arguments, no desires beyond that which any child wishes for." As he spoke these words, his own hand reached down and clasped a black pawn, lifting it forwards two spaces. The stoney clunk of his piece hitting the board was somehow louder than mine, despite him moving it so delicately. After his turn was over, he went silent again, waiting for me to make another move. It didn't take long for me to understand what was going on now. I stared down at the two pieces, his words ringing in my head. I didn't understand how he knew that, but I figured I wasn't really in a place to ask questions.
I still had no idea what the hell I was doing. That being said, I made what I thought was a pretty dumb decision. Just like before, the man started speaking right as I did so. I grasped my queen and slid her up to the top right at a somewhat cautious pace. "You made great strides," he said. "You excelled in school and were mere fractions away from becoming the valedictorian. You were the shining star of your football team. You obtained your driver's license on your first try. You truly had it all."
After my move, he let the silence hang in the air. What, really, was the point of this, I asked myself. Was he just going to win, and then I'd get thrown into whatever fiery pit my soul was destined for? Was he going to go on some cliche spiel about how life is just a game, and that I had lost it? It just seems like a waste of time. Finally, he made his own move, after giving me much too long to contemplate all of this. I saw his hand grip his king and move it one space towards me. But that didn't make any sense. I knew enough to know that he just threw the game for me. I looked between his king and his emotionless gaze, debating if I should take the bait and see what happens. A suspicious look formed over my face, squinting at him like a cartoon character. Finally, I took hold of my queen and slid her over to take his pawn. His king was checkmated as he spoke yet again.
"You conquered every obstacle. You overcame every challenge. You became a shining star for all to see, emerging victorious. And yet…" I waited for him to continue speaking, until he did not. At first, I thought nothing else happened. But then, I noticed it. The pieces themselves started to dissolve, crumbling at the top and assuming the texture of freshly ground pepper. Turning into nothing but dust, they fell, leaving a mess of black and white residue all over the polished chess board. It took no moves for the man to keep speaking this time, his gaze boring into mine. "…You ended up here. Struck down by an intoxicated truck driver, who escaped from the scene with nary a scratch. A man with so much potential, so much passion, so much drive and confidence, eliminated instantaneously. A pity, really."
I blinked as he monologued. He spoke as if he had been there, standing on the side of the road, having watched the Peterbilt crush me like a beer can. As if he'd heard the crunching of my bones as they fell victim to the might of a fifteen-thousand-pound self-propelled death machine. He spoke as if he had been there through it all, from birth until death. As if he'd seen this coming before I even understood what it meant to die. Eventually, the dust caking the chessboard blew away thanks to some invisible, undetectable wind. Then, too, did the chessboard disappear, along with the table. The man himself then stood, brushing flecks of marble dust from his suit jacket. He spoke a few final words to me, then, as even his form began to dissolve in much the same way.
"Like that game, people can receive do-overs. There are second chances. There are rematches. One must simply ensure to keep making the right moves."
I blinked. A rush of air forced its way into my lungs, expanding them like a brand-new balloon. Cold, dry air, but air, nonetheless. Blinding lights flooded my eyes yet again, but these were no headlights. They were those stupid fluorescent lights they have in office spaces, libraries… and hospitals. The beeping of a heart monitor is suddenly audible. I feel someone touching my hand, warm, soft, and affectionate. My heart thumped in my chest.
"Welcome back, you lucky son of a bitch!" I heard from the other side of the room.