ENTRY #21

During life, I once had a rather cynical thought: that every event, if followed long enough, ultimately ends in either sadness, disappointment, or despair.

This place seems to thrive on that philosophy.

ENTRY #20

I'm not sure when I lost my sense of humor, but it was during my lifetime, long before I arrived here. I think it was shortly after I went to Chicago and saw the slaughter houses. Even though I've no sense of smell in this place, I can still recall the reek of death and decay. Just looking around here constantly reminds me of that smell.

ENTRY #19

What is life if this is the afterlife? Why go through the struggles of that existence only to end up here? This defies most known religious doctrines that I have encountered.

Of course, I'm encountering new doctrines daily. In the wake of disillusionment, new myths are formed; new religions created from the ashes of the old. Perhaps the worst of these is that of the Pain People.

Their beliefs are fairly simple: we were created to suffer. And if we were created to suffer then suffer we must -- to the best of our ability!

While this certainly mimics the first Noble Truth of Buddhism, unlike Buddhism there is no Eightfold Path to Nirvana.

Their conversion tool is the paranid, or pain worm. Once the worm attaches itself, it creates a feeling of intense agony. I've found no way to detach the worm without obliterating its host at the same time.

Of course, I've noticed the pain worms are forced upon most of their "worshippers." I guess it doesn't matter to them. Why should it? Did it matter to the Inquisition?

ENTRY #18

I overheard a legless boy talking to a priest. The boy said, "My father told me I would be reunited with my leg when I reached heaven. Where's my leg? Have you seen it?"

The priest looked down at the boy with pity and sighed, "You poor dumb bastard. Does this look like heaven to you?"

ENTRY #17

When I came in today, I found someone reading my journal. For a moment, it disturbed me. I know I have no expectation of privacy. That is impossible here. But sometimes I forget.

Fortunately, I have no secrets. Only questions. Questions to which I may never know the answers to. Such as why do the demons throw people into the void? Why do they suck the life out of them? Why do they burrow? Amongst hundreds of millions of dead, why was I chosen?

Mercutio doesn't concern himself with such matters. He has a job to do and he gets it done. That's what I like about him.

ENTRY #16

If there is a god, I hope I can someday meet him, her, or it so I can ask what the point of this horrible existence is.

ENTRY #15

There was a particularly fierce battle today. Usually Mercutio and I can handle the demons, but this time we needed help. Fortunately, it came in the form of Ching Shih. There wasn't time to talk, so I didn't get a chance to learn anything about her, but she was quite adept at her job. I wonder how long she's been here.

ENTRY #14

I'm surprised newcomers are surprised by religion in the Afterlife. What is religion but a salve to misery? If religion is a salve, then this place needs all the religion it can get.

ENTRY #13

I try not to let my emotions interfere, but there are times when I can't help but hate this place. Were there a way to permanently destroy it, I think I would, even though it would take all of humanity with it.

ENTRY #12

I witnessed a rare moment of happiness. A brother and sister reunited. Upon seeing each other, they embraced and wept for joy.

A moment later, a quake sent everyone running for safety. It was only a minor tremor, but one never knows how the surface will react. Afterwards, I heard the woman calling out for her brother. He didn't answer.

I witnessed a rare moment of happiness. It was followed by disappointment.

ENTRY #11

How did I become a Guardian? Someone just asked me that question while I was on my way here. Actually, they asked how they could become a Guardian. I don't know the answer; to either question. It's not as if I applied for the position, I was simply... grabbed. Or maybe I was chosen. I don't know. I only know it was a horrifying experience. It began and I thought it would never end. Then it ended and I never felt more relieved -- until my first demon attack.

ENTRY #10

Mercutio's spirit never ceases to amaze me. Despite the time he's already served here, he still strives to find his lost love from life, Arrabella. I can't help but think how incredibly futile and pointless his quest is, yet he approaches it without futility or despair. In fact, he's one of the most positive people I've encountered here. I hope we continue to work together.

ENTRY #9

Many people can't deal with the reality of the afterlife. I've seen a strange man who, as people walk past, makes a claw like gesture with his hand and shouts, "Hex! Green monkey disease on you." I've seen many horrific people here, but judging from his wounds, this man's exit from the mortal world was exceedingly unpleasant.

ENTRY #8

Gallows humor abounds. I just heard one of the most common retorts people give each other while talking about their demise:

ARMLESS MAN: What happened to you? You look awful.
DISEASED WOMAN: That's cuz I'm dead, dummy!

ENTRY #7

For no particular reason, I decided to tour the portals and watch the new arrivals. I wanted to see if there was any difference in their reactions to this place. I probably watched more than 500 people as they left behind their former life. Their reactions usually fell into one of three categories:

1. Horrified

2. Shocked

3. Grim resignation

I think the latter group expected to wind up in some kind of hell and aren't surprised when they arrive here. But is this hell? I don't think so. Though we do have our fair share of demons.

ENTRY #6

I find myself consistently working with another guardian named Mercutio. Though he is unpleasant to look upon, his spirit seems stronger than most of those I've encountered.

ENTRY #5

There are many things I don't understand.

Unlike most of the others consigned here, I am some sort of guardian. My skin is covered in what I would describe as armor made from the same material as this place.

I have powers no else has.

And I'm expected to use these powers to serve the people. To help them. To save them from horrors I never imagined.

I have to stop the demonic hordes from destroying this place.

ENTRY #4

I am having second thoughts. Perhaps I shouldn't keep this journal after all. It seems cruel, but how else can I record my thoughts?

No, I must. It is the only way.

ENTRY #3

I've no idea how long I've been here. It’s impossible to track time in a timeless place. Winter does not become Spring, night does not become day; there’s nothing but the inky black sky above. Perhaps it’s been days, weeks, months or even years. I don’t think I’ve been here that long, but it already feels like an eternity. Time stretches infinitely longer when there is no sleep to break up the ennui of each day. Is death nothing more than the worst case of insomnia imaginable?

Except for the constant night, there seems to be no consistency to this place. Nothing remains the same. The faces, the people, even the landscape continuously change.

Who dreamed up this madness?

ENTRY #2

The problem with beginning any journal is where to begin? I find myself overwhelmed with the notion. I'm hoping this will aid in the organization of my thoughts.

For now, perhaps I'll simply begin with observations:

I am dead. But where am I? Clearly, this isn't heaven. But is it hell? Purgatory? Something else entirely?

Why does everyone here look like they did in the moment of their death?

Is this physical manifestation of my soul? I never believed in the soul before, but now I'm having my doubts. Of course, I see people from every part of the world here. I shall have to talk to others and get their opinions.

ENTRY #1

I am haunted by the memory of my life.

Though it does me no good, I cannot help but remember my last moments. They replay over and over again in my mind along with the question... What could I have done differently?

However, that doesn't matter now. None of it does. The past, my life, my death, it's all meaningless in this place. I must focus on the present.

I don't know how long I'll keep this journal, but I see no reason not to.

Because I cannot date these entries, I will simply number them.

Perhaps it will help focus my thoughts. Perhaps it will be nothing more than a diversion.

Perhaps it will keep me sane.