Sudden Death

“A dream is an opportunity, and change is a goal.”

In an era where the population grew denser by the day, the relentless pace of life swept most people along a hurried current, their existence intertwined with towering skyscrapers. Some yearned for greatness, their ambitions reaching for the clouds, while others sought the quiet comfort of a simple, easy life. Despite the diversity in their mindsets, all were tethered by a single, unifying concept: purpose. Human effort was driven by this purpose, culminating in the pursuit of victory, however small or large. Yet, the paths to achieving this varied dramatically, and for Shen, his was different from all the rest.

Shen, a young man in his early twenties, was a lone island in a sea of humanity. He had neither family nor acquaintances. For many, solitude was a heavy burden, but for Shen, it was a treasure—a canvas on which he could craft his own rules, living as he pleased: carefree and indifferent. He had never idolized anyone, his detached nature perhaps molded by the pervasive apathy he had encountered in the world. Regardless, it was his choice, and unlike the striving masses, Shen had no grand purpose. Comfort and solitude were his only priorities. He believed this state of existence would last forever—until something utterly unforeseen occurred.

A Sudden Death

The truck's horn blared, a desperate, final warning slicing through the rain-soaked street. Shen froze, his body locking up as the twin headlights bore down on him. The metallic crush of impact was deafening, a sickening symphony of twisting steel, followed by the gruesome crack of bone. Blood painted the pavement, a crimson tide mingling with the relentless downpour. Shen’s vision blurred, the world spinning in a vortex of pain and chaos as his body lay broken and still.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The rain halted mid-air, droplets hanging like frozen tears, suspended in an ethereal tableau. Shen’s shallow breaths echoed in his ears, a desperate rhythm against the sudden, profound silence that followed. The world grew eerily still, and from the depths of this unnatural quiet, a voice spoke.

“Shen.”

The sound was neither male nor female—neither comforting nor cruel. It simply existed, a resonant hum that reverberated within his mind like an ancient, undeniable truth. His chest tightened, a desperate, silent struggle to speak.

“Who’s there?” Shen croaked, the words a strained effort as blood dripped from his lips.

“Your time has come sooner than it should have.”

As the voice spoke, the rain shimmered, forming fleeting shapes that dissolved as quickly as they appeared. Shen’s eyes darted to the sky, where faint, spectral shadows of chains and fire flickered against the gray. His body felt as if it were being dragged toward an unseen abyss, an inevitable descent into the unknown.

“Do you understand the weight of your life, Shen?”

“I don’t—” Shen coughed, his words faltering, a wet gurgle in his throat. “What are you? Why is this happening?”

“I am not here to answer your questions. I am here to ask you one: what purpose did your life serve?”

Shen's mind raced, grasping for an answer, but found nothing but a hollow emptiness. His life had been devoid of grand purpose—just a series of empty days and selfish comfort. The realization was a bitter pill.

The voice continued, its tone steady and unwavering, yet filled with something profound and ancient. “You are not the first to stand on the edge of eternity with nothing to hold onto. Many lives blur the line between virtue and sin. Consider the woman who lied her way through life, not for gain, but for survival. Each truth she told was buried beneath the crushing weight of fear until she could no longer see the difference herself. Do you judge her?”

Shen’s lips parted, but no sound came forth. The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered.

“Or the man who lived among devils, forced to kill, lie, and sin to expose their truths to the world. His journey was one of profound contradictions—a life spent despising the very actions he was forced to commit. Do you blame him?”

Flashes of other lives filled Shen’s vision: a doctor who failed to save a life, a general who took countless lives to spare a nation from war, people whose choices were shaped by forces far beyond their control. The rain around him seemed to carry their stories, each droplet heavy with unseen burdens and whispered regrets.

“Whom can you blame for their actions when it is all they can do to survive?” said the voice, its tone a gentle yet firm pronouncement. “Judgment is not simple, Shen. Nor is life. Every soul carries its truth, its lies, its sins, and its hope. Even you.”

“I—I don’t know,” Shen whispered, tears mixing with blood on his face. “I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know if I deserve another chance.” The words were a fragile, desperate confession.

The voice grew softer, a balm to his tormented soul. “Perhaps you do not. But your death was not meant to come today. And so, a second chance is yours to take. Use it wisely, for the world will judge you again, and next time, there will be no reprieve.”

The rain began to move again, falling faster now, a return to the natural order of things. Shen felt himself slipping, his body growing heavier, the pull of reality reasserting itself. As the voice faded, spectral chains wrapped briefly around his wrists, burning his skin with an ethereal cold before vanishing completely.

The world shattered into brilliant, blinding light, and Shen awoke gasping for air atop a cloud-like surface in a tranquil void. Life surged back into his chest, his heart pounding with the overwhelming weight of the chance he had been granted.