The Prison Sentence

No one really knows what it's like after you die. It's a great mystery that everyone tries to explain, whether through religion or movies or books. But it's never the exact same, there's always details that each author puts in that consumers wonder if that's really what it's like. Pearly gates. Fiery gates. Roads of gold. Circles of darkness. Maybe there isn't one, you simply jump into the next body that gets birthed into the world.

No one really knows until they get there, but then there's no way to communicate it back to the world. No way to prepare those still on Earth for what will happen to them. So everyone just goes in without knowing a thing except clinging to their beliefs.

Miles McClure is a Christian- or, well, was a Christian. When he was alive. He grew up believing in a Heaven and a Hell. Miles had been taught from a very young age that his actions always had consequences, even if no one saw them, because they would lead him to either place when he was gone. It certainly had an effect on him when he was a kid, and he was as good as a kid could be. Then, he grew up. He got friends and he went through things that had him doubting whether or not God was actually a thing, which made him question whether or not Heaven and Hell were a thing. After that, he didn't try as hard to be as good of a person. Especially behind those closed doors. He didn't commit heinous crimes, nor did he steal or cheat or lie excessively. But he could be a bit of a jerk. Miles still did lie. There were those times he swore at people for no good reason, and those other times where he just wasn't a good kid.

If he had known his life wouldn't be as long as he wanted it to be, he probably would've been better. Or is that just another thing people tell themselves when they're dying?

Miles stood before a dark, large figure. He couldn't see the details of the figure, but the shadow behind him was sharp in the light. The light wasn't quite a lot, either, only coming from flames along the rocky and damp walls around him. It was like a cave.

"So, you really do have horns?" Miles asked, slightly disappointed, but not shocked. "I thought that was just a thing kids were told. So they'd be more scared of... you."

The figure shrugged. "I appear however you want me to."

Miles sighed. "All right, let's get on with this. Are there circles? Which one am I going to?"

"No. You will serve your sentence with everyone else on the same 'level'."

"Wait, my- my sentence? What does that mean?"

"Depending on the crimes committed in the life of Miles McClure, you will serve a sentence here in this afterlife."

"And then what?" he asked. "What, I get to come back to life? I don't think that's how the story goes."

The figure turned and started walking, Miles getting the cue to follow behind. "You get a choice, Miles McClure. You may either exit the sentence to your eternal afterlife, or you may be reborn on Earth. It all depends on the book."

Miles was growing tired of answers that left him with more questions. "Seriously? I could go back to Earth or stay dead forever? And what book? How does any of this work?"

They stopped at a desk and the figure glared at Miles, the bright eyes shining through the darkness that covered the figure. "One moment please."

Miles stood and watched the figure open a large, ancient looking book and flip through. He tried to catch a glimpse of what the pages read, but the letters swam around into the alphabet he knew and other shapes, perhaps an alphabet he didn't know. The want to decipher it was strong, but the pain it was causing was even stronger. Miles blinked rapidly and looked away, back at the cave-like walls of this place he ended up in.

"You will be serving fifty-seven years and three months down here. Afterward, you do have the choice to return to Earth and be reborn or you may continue to the rest of your afterlife. The choice will be yours in fifty-seven years and three months."

The figure slammed the book shut, echoing how Miles's heart dropped at the sentence. "That long? Fifty-whatever years and months?! What'd I do to deserve that?!"

The figure faced Miles and he could feel a sense of emptiness radiating from it. "You'll have fifty-seven years and three months to remember. Come."

Once more, the figure led Miles to the next destination. Miles wanted to ask where they were going and what he was supposed to do with his time, but he couldn't wrap his mind around what he had done to cause such a sentence. That many years? He never committed a serious crime that would land him in jail or anything. He just did petty things that didn't matter. Did they all add up? But how did that work? This figure wouldn't offer anything, Miles already knew. He'd have to figure this out.

The figure led him to a large, wide open multi-level space. "You are to stay in here. Trivial things like food and water are not provided as you are already dead. Sleep isn't necessary, but can help pass time."

Miles watched the figure turn and leave out the way they came. There was nothing guarding the exit. "Why isn't there a door? Won't people try to leave."

"You won't."

"But if-"

"You. Won't." The figure's eyes were ablaze again and staring into Miles's soul If that was something he took with him.

Miles didn't say anything else and the figure left. Miles was left all on his own.

For two seconds.

"Ooh, hello! Who are you?" Miles turned and saw another human being standing behind him. The first actual person he'd seen. "I'm Pearl Jackson. I died when the bus I was in crashed. How'd you die? How long do you have down here? I've only got another week and then I'm out!"

Pearl couldn't have been older than 15. Miles cleared his throat and moved himself from the initial shock. "I, uh, I'm Miles. I choked on my sandwich," he answered. "And apparently, I have fifty-seven years and three months? I think that's what the weird guy said."

The girl nodded. "Unfortunate stuff. Well, sorry I won't be able to get to know you all that well. You'll have plenty of other people to socialize with!"

Miles looked around again, noticing how there were different levels. "Didn't the guy say something about there not being levels?" he asked. He turned in a small circle as he took it all in.

"Well, technically there are, but it's not like each level offers a different punishment. It just allows for more space for everyone to roam around. Here! Let me give you some advice." Pearl snatched his arm and pulled Miles along.

He followed her around as she pointed different people and spaces out. "You don't want to talk to him, he's finishing his Earthly prison sentence for murdering his family. He's still got a couple hundred years left," Pearl hurriedly explained as they walked past a guy sitting in a corner. "I don't know if I've ever seen him move."

Miles scoffed. "So even guys like that get another chance at life? Wouldn't that be dangerous?"

Pearl shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know much outside of here, really. Of course I have my theories, as I'm sure everyone does, but no one's gonna know for certain."

"Maybe the weird guy who creepily leads people down here just to abandon them," Miles mumbled.

"Would you rather he sit and stare at all of us all the time?" she asked. It was a fair point.

A week later, Pearl was retrieved by the figure. She had told Miles she was thinking of going back to Earth and getting another shot since her last time around didn't take very long. He thought it made sense.

He still had just under fifty-seven years and three months to figure out what he would do. What would he do? Miles assumed that another life on Earth meant a complete reset. He'd no longer be Miles, he'd become someone else and live that life instead. Which could be fun. But then what happens to his consciousness? Does 'Miles' simply cease to exist all of a sudden? He just... blips from the universe?

He had to stop thinking about this after days of being in existential dread over the thought. Thinking about just no longer existing, conscious and all, was scary.

So, then he wondered about the other option. Live on for eternity in the same body with the same consciousness. Not as terrifying at first, until he wondered about how long that would actually be. Going on forever and ever just in the same mind? Never having an end and always having to exist? He at least hoped there would be more to do there than here. Here, in The Prison, as he's dubbed it, there's nothing but people. Maybe that was because this part is the 'punishment' part of the afterlife. Maybe the next level of the afterlife was all the fun. Miles painted pictures in his mind of the next level. His first thought was it would mirror Earth, maybe, and just be the best version. He also thought that it was like living in a castle, with a village surrounding it with places to go and people to visit. What if everyone had their own castle?

The daydreaming is what kept Miles sane. He thought about his ideal afterlife and hoped it was similar to down here, where what he envisioned is what he got. He'd have a castle, maybe a TV as big as one wall.

Would he know about what was going on on Earth?

Miles, who had laid on the ground with his eyes closed during his daydreaming, shot up with wide eyes. Would he suddenly be cut off from the rest of the world? If he had access to other people, would they be his only source of information? But then... Why would he care? It's not like he'll need to know anything about the world down there, the good, the bad, or the ugly. This final afterlife was a new life, completely disconnected from anyone he used to be and the world he used to know.

Once more, Miles had to stop thinking so hard. If there were things to do around The Prison, he wouldn't be trapped in his own mind of what was next and what he'd do with himself. It also would help if there was a way of tracking time. Miles realized at some point he had no idea how long he'd been in The Prison. There was no sun to track the days, no clocks of any kind. Miles realized he didn't even have a watch on him. Everyone kept to themselves, too, so he didn't dare ask them if they knew. He didn't think they'd care all that much about his sentence when they had their own to worry about. Besides, he didn't want to run into any murderers finishing off multi-centennial sentences.

After some time, he began to learn how to think of these things without going into a dreadful existential crisis. He began to imagine either path after his sentence, how it might go. What if he became a girl this time? Or lived in a different country on a different continent? Maybe this time, he'd be born into an extremely wealthy family and never have to want anything. Or he could be born into a family on the brink of poverty and have to want everything. No matter what he got, Miles would have to be satisfied. He wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He wouldn't even know anything about his old life. He wouldn't know that he had an old life. He wouldn't know anything about this, and would go through this whole thing once again on a different day in the future.

For a brief moment, Miles found relief in that thought. There was no particular reason why. It was simply a nice thought, knowing this wouldn't be his last time going through this. Then, he wondered about all the past lives that have done this before him. How many people had chosen the one path that led to his existence. Maybe he should continue the chain. Unless there were people waiting for him on the other path without realizing they were waiting for him. His family members who had gone through this before him. Miles wondered how many generations of his family had chosen to continue into the afterlife, and he was curious about what he could learn. At this point, Miles was curious about many things. It was his curiosity that kept him afloat during his sentence.

He figured out why he had such a long sentence. In his mind, he was a few years in. That's when it hit. He stopped calling his family. He wasn't a great boyfriend and was probably the reason why his girlfriend left him. He lied almost all the time at work when it came to deadlines and why something wasn't done. He took a lot of credit, too, credit he never deserved.

Without realizing it in time, Miles had become an extremely selfish and self-centered person. It hurt that this was what made him find out. If he could, he'd go back up there and do it all over again. That 'good person' he once was wouldn't have disappeared. Sure, his faith slipped, but he never should have become so... so mean.

That was his next time waster: what he would have done differently. The list was an unfortunate length and spanned from silly little things that probably don't mean much, to big things he knew were wrong but did anyway. Miles thought about the times he blatantly ignored his girlfriends' subtle hints. One had been a step short of begging for flowers. That's all she wanted, was a beautiful bouquet of flowers from her sweet boyfriend. Miles didn't think they were that big of a deal and didn't want to deal with throwing them out. Another girlfriend got him the most thoughtful gifts and Miles had never given a crap, just got gift cards and things that didn't actually fit her vibe.

He also thought about how he started to ignore the texts and calls from his family members. They tried to reach out to him, start small conversations or even invite him to things, but he would ignore them for nearly a week before finally responding. It was always a 'no,' too. Every time.

Regret was Miles' newest constant. Oh, the things he wishes he'd done instead.

After a while, possibly a few more years, who really knows, Miles had started to entertain himself outside of his thoughts. He would sit and watch other people and create hilariously outrageous stories about their lives. He never really spoke to them because they never spoke to him. Everyone just did their best to coexist while waiting for the day they got out of this place. It would always make Miles sad to see children in The Prison, but they were almost never there for long. At least that was a relief to him. After a bit, Miles started to wonder if the children saw the same shadowy figure that he did. He hoped they didn't. Maybe they saw someone closer to a fairy godmother or some other kind creature. What if a dog led them to The Prison?

For a few of the later years, Miles found himself constantly sleeping and dreaming. Most of those dreams were about the things he'd been thinking about: what comes next, what he wished he'd done, who he could become. They were mostly pleasant or interesting dreams, only every now and then he'd get a dream that would leave him with a wet face when he finally awoke. Then he'd remember Pearl and wondered how she was wherever she was. He could've been better at being kind to the new people joining The Prison. He just didn't want to interact with anyone and preferred to be by himself at this point.

There was one day, Miles decided to go for a walk and get out of that little corner he'd been sleeping in, and he saw someone new was standing near the exit. He looked to be around the same age as Miles was when he died, maybe a year or two younger. The guy was dressed in his pajamas, perhaps he went in his sleep. He looked around, understandably confused, until he saw Miles. The newcomer came up to Miles with urgency.

"Hey, dude, what's going on?" he asked.

Miles smiled. "Hey, man, I'm Miles. You are in the first part of the afterlife. I'm sure the weird figure who brought you here wasn't very forthcoming."

The newcomer shook his head. "He- he looked exactly like the d- wait. Did you say afterlife? As in I'm dead?? Like, this isn't some freaky dream?!" Suddenly, the newcomer was panicking. Yep, he definitely went in his sleep.

"Hey, hey, calm down, man," Miles said, bringing his hands up to try and stop the newcomer from pacing around. "Yeah, unfortunately you're dead. You'll have time to think about it and about all the things you could have done differently. I know I have."

The newcomer looked at Miles with slowing breaths. "How long have you been here?"

Miles shrugged. "I don't really remember. I know my sentence was supposed to be fifty-seven years and three months. After a couple days, I stopped being able to keep track."

"What the hell did you do to get that long?"

"I stopped being a good person and let myself do a lot of smaller scale things, from lying to ignoring my family, to being a pretty crappy coworker. I've had time to think all about it and what I would've done differently," Miles explained. He didn't know where this side of him was coming from.

The newcomer seemed to have calmed down. "I got seventy years. I still don't know why. I guess I'll have some time to figure it all out." Then, he held out a hand. "I'm Richard, but people used to call me Rich."

Miles took the hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Rich. You want a tour?"

For the next bit of time, maybe an hour or two, Miles showed Rich around the place. He remembered Pearl and emulated her style of tour guide. Miles told him all about the different people, though he couldn't remember exact sentences anymore, and talked about how the different levels were just different places to hang around.

They got back to where they started. "Well, there you go. That's the place."

Rich nodded. "So, you probably don't have much longer. What will you do? Go back to Earth or continue on to the forever afterlife?"

Miles thought for a second. "You know, I've had all this time and yet... I still don't know. Both have benefits, both have drawbacks. I've really thought through each option like crazy, and yet... I don't know."

Nodding, Rich responded, "Fair, man. It'd probably be weird going back to a different Earth, but it could be boring being yourself after a while."

They chuckled. "That is very true," Miles sighed.

Rich went to open his mouth, to say something, but closed it and thought for a second. He didn't get a second try.

"Miles McClure." The two men looked in the direction of the voice. Miles saw the figure, the one who brought him here, standing within the exit. "Your time has come."

The two men looked at each other. Miles put his hand out and they shook hands once. "Good luck," Miles said with a small nod.

Rich took in a deep breath, grappling with the fact that he was on his own now for the next seventy years. "Yeah, you too, man."

They let go and Miles made his way back over to the figure. "So, it's already been fifty-seven years and three months?" It came out almost like a joke.

As expected, the figure did not laugh or smile, but it also didn't berate Miles. The figure turned, and Miles wordlessly followed along. They went a slightly different way than when Miles was brought to The Prison. This time, their destination was a large chamber.

"Where shall you go, Miles McClure?"

Miles thought once more. Spend eternity being himself? Go back to Earth with no idea what had happened as a brand new human being? Get the chance to see his passed away family members? Get a second chance at being a better person?

Finally, Miles landed on something. "Good." The figure didn't need to hear it out loud. "Close your eyes."

Miles did so, and felt the ground disappear from below his feet and the stuffiness of the chamber fade away.

He opened his eyes.

- JG

A/n: I wrote this for my university's literary journal and submitted it today, so I wanted to share it with you guys as well! It's just a short little dude, but I like to post my writing so ta da