• Everybody says that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. That you can see Death come, skull-faced and scythe-bearing, and motion for you to follow. This might be true. But when it’s an accident, when you’re truly not meant to die, none of this happens. You’re vividly aware of every last second. You feel the pain of your bones cracking like glass, your heart pumping rapidly, your breath leaving your lungs... You feel strong, warm arms pick you up out of your body, tell you it’s not your time. You feel serene and perfect, but you’re suddenly thrust into the black abyss of mortal life as the voice whispers after you, “It’s not your time...”

    “Ashly..?! Ash? Are you ok?!” my best friend, Matt, called. His voice was far away, and everything was black. I couldn’t feel my body. “Somebody call 911!” a girl shrieked somewhere. “Ashly, please wake up!” Matt cried, his fading in and out. “...And there’s a lot of blood...” the girl was on the phone. I stopped paying attention. I didn’t want to know what happened.

    The ambulance came, wailing, and Matt’s voice cried out for me, called for me, demanded for me to stay. So I did, I held on to the frayed edges of my life for all it was worth, my slippery soul-fingers grasping its fragile perimeter, the warm arms of Death wrapping around me, trying to coax me away. The Afterlife was pleasant and beautiful. It was inevitable. I didn’t care; I scrambled to hold on. Vague shadows and flashing lights blurred around me. I felt a sharp jolt in my heart. Wait, I had a heart! I could finally find it! A cold, fresh rush of air rushed through my windpipe, my lungs contracting and expanding. My body was suddenly THERE. Relief and happiness overwhelmed me. I’m alive!

    Ecstasy was replaced by torture. All of my organs were on fire; my pulse stuttered and sputtered, wet blood leaking out of my wounds. I tried to scream, I tried to open my eyes; I couldn’t. Darkness enveloped me once again and I sank into pure fear. What is happening? Am I dying?!

    Minutes passed, or perhaps they were hours, or they might have even been days... But they passed, nevertheless. I could hear Matt crying, calling for me to wake up. I heard the doctors usher him away. I heard the faltering heartbeat that was my own. My body had, once again, grown numb, and I began listing to the doctors’ conversations.

    “She’s not going to make it! She’s lost too much blood!” The message was clear: I was going to die. So why should I fight? Why should I put up with this crimson-stained torture when I can jump happily into Death’s arms and be carried to Heaven? “Don’t stop fighting, Ash!” Matt’s muffled voice called. I wasn’t sure whether I heard it or imagined it, but I was certain he’d said it. Don’t worry Matty, I’ll try just for you....

    Time continued to pass on the outside world, but I remained frozen. I could see nothing but darkness. I could hear nothing but my own pathetic heartbeat. “Don’t give up, Ash!” Matt’s voice called, “Keep trying!” I am. I am trying, Matt! “Don’t go, Ashly! You’re stronger than this!” I won’t... I won’t go!

    Alas, it turned out I lied. I sank into darkness just seconds after, and Death cradled me once more.


    Excerpt from The Boston Times:

    “Sixteen-year-old Ashly Cooper was killed on October sixth, 2001, in a ‘hit-and-run’ attempt made by Anthoney Lockhart (age thirty-six.) The man was driving a crimson-colored Chevy truck at nearly 80 mph. He hit Ashly while she was crossing the street to her high school, and he continued to drive. Eyewitnesses reported him, and he was brought in for trial. Ashly died of blood loss forty-three minutes later. May she rest in peace.”