With a flick, the shovel handle flew into the sky. Gracefully she leaped backwards and up, smiling all the while. All I could do was shimmy the rest of the way out of the coffin.

“You chose.” Her words were as cold as I was assuming the air was. Almost as an afterthought she added, “You all choose.”

Words swirled through my head, something about willingness in the transformation. Other feelings flooded my body, animal urges and electric surges. Whatever I was, I’d never felt more alive.

Pushing an orchestra of new sensations aside, I shot at her, “You lie.” Again came the condescending little clucking noise, and she began to walk away. With surprising ease I bounded out of the hole and followed with another, “You lie. I wouldn’t…he wouldn’t…”

She kept walking but cast back, “He did. You did. You all do.” Stopping and turning she continued, “Why? Because this…whatever this is, is a far better fate than what you all fear so damn much. In the end, you’re all afraid to die. To be dead.”