Ten Minutes After Death
“What did I do to you?!” He was breathing heavily after the beating he took. The beating I gave him. He was a gangster. A murderer. Everyone knew it. Nobody ever did anything about it.
“It’s not about me”, I said. “But now… I have a choice to make.”
There is no heaven or hell. All we get after we die is ten minutes. Ten minutes of dopamine-induced hallucination, until the brain finally runs out of oxygen. Ten minutes of dreams, which might seem like years in the weird timescale of the brain. Nobody really knows for sure.
“What choice?” The fear was alive in his eyes now.
This guy would have his ten minutes, too. Ten minutes in which he would exist in his false afterlife. Head towards the light, and dream until the last dream is dreamt.
Unless, of course, I shoot him in the head.
“Naw, you don’t fuckin’ deserve it,” I said.
“Deserve wha-” he tried to say, but it was too late.
He won’t be getting his ten minutes after death.