(The following content was inspired by the Riley Bloom series.)

~ Heavy breaths. Gasps. A trickle of blood ~

Azalea Thatcher jolted upright, her eyes blinded by the sunlight who's beam was as bright as a flashlight. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her forehead scrunched up in worry. Where was she? Everything around her was white - the ground, although Azalea couldn’t feel it, was white. The simple emptiness around her was white. Azalea looked down at her dress - it was white.

Except for the… the stains. Bloodstains covered her dress from top to toe. Azalea hastily got up, and looked down at her dress once more. Panic and tension filled her body, and she clenched her fists, terror written all over her face.

“Hello?” She tried calling out, to, seemingly, no one and nothingness. Her voice echoed, but there were no walls. Or was there? Was she in a room or another dimension altogether?..

Azalea absentmindedly touched a fragile finger to her temple, and stood there, lost for words. Or, rather, lost for thoughts.

Then it hit her.

Flashbacks.

“Race you to that tree!” Kacey called over her shoulder. Azalea rushed over to her bigger sister, determined to beat her.

Their family was camping on a mountain, right next to a ravine. Their dad had suggested it, saying that it was a lot more fun than just camping in a boring place where plain grass stretched out to the horizon. They had ignored the DANGER signs that bordered the ravine. Well, their dad had.

“It’s just to scare them cowards off,” Dad had been telling Mum. “There’s nothing too dangerous about this place. Plus, the kids aren’t that idiotic enough to jump right into the depths of the ravine.”

Azalea pushed away the thoughts of potential peril and sprinted towards a tree near the edge of the ravine. She wouldn’t fall in - all she had to do was touch the tree and yell in triumph at her bigger sister.

Kacey was perfect. Perfect in every way. She was top of class and the school sports league. Not only that, but everyone loved her. How could they not? She was witty, yet gentle, kind and firm. Azalea envied her. She envied the way others looked at her. She envied the way her hair flowed behind her like a river of brown. But Azalea also looked up to her. Although jealousy threatened to suffocate her, she could not find the heart to hate her perfect sister. After all, her best memories were with Kacey.

If Azalea beat Kacey at her own little game, she would be proud. She would smile. She would beam. She would tell 13 year old Azalea how she would grow up to be exactly like Kacey - perfect, in every way. Azalea craved this praise, this reassurance that she, one day, will grow to be perfect.

Azalea reached out her hand, about to brush it against the rough bark of the tree, when she heard her sister’s voice, ringing as clear as church bells -

“AZALEA, STOP! I WASN’T TALKING ABOUT THAT TREE -”

But disaster struck, as quick as lightning. Azalea lost her footing and stumbled. Her hand desperately caught a blade of grass on the ground, but she ripped it away with her. And

then

she

fell

into the deep, dark depths of the ravine.

Azalea blinked, her eyes watery from the flashback. She felt scared, and trapped, although there was a strange scent of freedom surrounding her.

Suddenly, a full-grown man stepped out of thin air towards her.

Azalea opened her mouth to scream, but was swiftly shushed.

“Welcome to the Afterlife,” he began in a calm yet clear voice. “I am -”

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Azalea shrieked.

The bald man blinked owlishly, taken aback by this girl’s rudeness but underneath the mask, terror. After quickly recovering from the initial shock he replied. “All you need to know is that I am the vice president of the Everlasting Council, and am here to guide you through the wonders of Heaven.”

“Through the wonders of WHAT?!” Azalea shrieked again, almost eagle-like . Her heart pounded like a hammer. At least. Hold on. It should be..

Wait. Azalea couldn’t feel a pulse anywhere. She pressed a hand against her chest. No pumping. No steady beat, like a clock’s tick. No nothing.

“Wait,” Azalea said to the man, who arched an eyebrow at her. “What… what’s happened to me?”

“Don’t you know?” He asked quietly to her, his face suddenly becoming more serious and sombre.

“Know what?” Azalea asked, dreading the answer, detesting the pity on the man's face, foreseeing the truth before it came…

“Azalea Thatcher… you are dead.”

Written by: Hazel Antler
Edited by: Hazel Black
Proofread by: Ross Geary