Hello anyone who may or may not be reading this. I guess this will be an online autobiography of sorts. So let’s start:
My name is Olivia. I’m fourteen, in eighth grade. Well, going into ninth, but still. I was an average kid…until… Well I’ll get to that later. But I have a reason for writing this. I’m indeed another random kid writing about her life (or in my case death). But my life was drastically changed in a month.
At the beginning of October, something strange happened. Like, really strange. I died. That’s right. I don’t know either. I was going to the movies with my friends, and I guess during the movie, I just died. Wow, whoever you are reading this right now, you must be so weirded out. I would be too…
Well, I woke up in a cushy box. Yeah, you (probably) guessed it. A coffin. At least it was open. I was wearing a very nice, formal black dress, and the silver necklace that my mom gave me when I won my first dance competition. I was in the decorated room for the wake. My wake. There were a bunch of vases of white roses with cards with my name on them.
Now, I’ve been to enough wakes to know what this was, but I was still extremely… Confused? I’m not sure what the exact word is… Whatever. But really. Imagine waking up in a freaking coffin. The feelings you think you’d feel come nothing close to my emotions.
I sat up and looked around. There were still people decorating, and one of them spotted me, yelling, “Holy SHIT!” before collapsing. That was pretty much the most comical part of my experience. But it went downhill from there.
I escaped from the funeral home, and took a taxi back home, the whole ride trying to find out exactly what had happened. The last thing I remembered was that there was this girl kneeling on the floor and crying. Not as eerie as you might be thinking. She was in the movie I was seeing with two of my friends.
I guess I just died in the seat at the theatre.
Anyways, when I got home, I stood in front of the door, knocking, because it was locked. After thirty or so seconds, my aunt came to the door, looking extremely schocked. She brought me inside, and told me a bunch of stuff, crying the whole time. She told me how I had been dead for a week, and that my wake was the next day. That changed things.
She called into the funeral service people, and told them that I had not really died, and that they could no longer have a funeral. That seems to make sense to me... She also brought me to the hospital, which wasn't fun. I had to attempt to answer questions that I couldn't dream of ever finding answers to.
And now, I'm just sitting here, typing this first blog entry. And I'm living.
~~Olivia
