The Life And Deaths Of Theodore Platt

The Life and Deaths of Theodore Platt

By Sebastian H. Alive

Published by Sebastian H. Alive

License Notes

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2015 Sebastian H. Alive

Chapter 1

…Theodore Platt wasn’t dead, or at least he thought he wasn’t.

He found himself walking aimlessly down a narrow white corridor wondering where it was leading and how he had gotten here in the first place.  The walls of the corridor were covered in fine, white plaster and he ran his finger against the smooth surface as he moved slowly down the tight, empty hallway.

Bright tubes of fluorescence shone down on him from above, reflecting against the white linoleum floor. Squinting uncomfortably against the glare, he turned a sharp corner that forked left and saw that he was facing a similar corridor.  He walked a little further, and then looked back in the direction in which he came, but there was nothing there, just a straight, blank white hallway.

For the life of him he couldn't remember how he had got here and what he was doing right before this moment.

Hello, he said to nothingness as his voice echoed off the walls back to him.

There was no reply, nothing, and he snapped his mouth shut with an audible click and blinked a few times.

Hello?' he said again, this time trying to add an air of rugged self-assertion into his voice.  Is anyone there?'

Theodore paused for a moment and again he tried hard to think of how he had gotten here, but despite his best efforts he just couldn't remember. All he knew was his name and nothing else and the feeling this left him was particularly unpleasant.

My name is Theodore Platt, he said loudly as he scratched his head. I think I’m uhm…kinda’ lost here,

But the truth was he didn’t actually know if he was lost. He only knew one thing about himself, but hearing his name offered him a little reassurance. Theodore stood there for a while; trying to figure out what he was doing here as he stared at his surroundings with a puzzled look on his face.

After a few long minutes he gave up and sighed, trudging on aimlessly down the seemingly never-ending corridor, occasionally looking behind him as if expecting some kind of indicator as to his reason for being here.

Theodore continued along until he finally reached the very end of the hallway and found himself confronting a large white door adorned with a small sign. Stepping forward he licked his dry, nervous lips and rapped at the wooden frame of the door with his knuckles, and then cleared his throat expectantly.

Do you see a sign on the door? barked a disembodied angry voice from beyond the door.

Theodore leant in close to the door and peered at the sign mounted there and mouthed the words as he read them. It stated:

Please ring the reception bell.

Do not knock loudly and violently or ring the bell continuously.

…and below that in smaller writing.

Wireless internet available in reception area free of charge

Sorry, muttered Theodore ringing the bell swiftly.

A hollow tinkle was heard and after a long pause he heard a muffled voice from beyond the door.

Come in,

He looked down for a door handle but there wasn't one and for a long time he just stood there, looking down at the door, unsure what to do.

Uhmmm...., said Theodore pushing the door with the palms of his hands, but it didn’t budge like he expected.

Come in, repeated the voice again, this time much louder and with a hint of annoyance.

How do I get in? yelled Theodore, taking a few steps back and looking at the door.

There was a muffled curse from beyond and he looked down again and saw that there was now a door handle.

Frowning, he pulled the handle down and stepped into a spacious reception area featuring a big wooden desk, deep plush white carpets and a seating area with sofas and coffee tables for guests to relax. Sat at the desk was a small figure of a man, bent almost double and writing furiously on some paper. He didn’t bother to look up as he approached quietly.

Hello, said Theodore rather amiably.

The man looked up at him without replying, and then glanced quickly at his watch, noting the time before returning to scribbling frantically on his papers.

He was either extremely short or the desk he was sitting at was ridiculously huge, and his face wore deep lines indicating a sense of responsibility traced by years of work and self-discipline.  He wore delicate horn-rimmed spectacles and was virtually bald on top, saved only by a delightful comb-over that consisted of a few strands of hair hanging limply in sympathy over his shiny pink scalp.

It thinned terribly in my early twenties and never regained its thickness, grunted the man looking up, his eyes meeting Theodore’s.

Theodore shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze from the man and stared over his shoulder at the closed white door behind the desk.

Theodore Platt, I presume? muttered the man ticking something on his papers with a flick of his wrist.

Yes, that's me. Who are you? asked Theodore, craning his neck to peer at the documents.

The man cradled the papers away from his prying eyes and looked him up and down, then returned to fumbling through his papers, muttering under his breath as he did so.

I’m Rupert, replied the man curtly without looking up.

Are you real? questioned Theodore, looking puzzled as he turned round scratching his head.

It felt like he was in some kind of weird dream state and Theodore was in awe of how utterly real and lucid everything felt.

Rupert’s mouth trembled slightly, and then adjusted into a smile that stretched from ear to ear, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was the kind of smile that a hungry feral cat made before ripping the mouse to shreds.

Do you think I’m real?

You sure seem real, said Theodore, leaning forward across the desk suddenly and pinching Rupert’s cheek roughly.

Can you please not touch my face! scowled Rupert.

Reaching under the table he snatched a moist towelette and dabbed at his skin gently.

Hate it when they do that! he growled.

Where am I? asked Theodore looking around the room.

You are in Purgatory,

Purgatory?

You heard what I said, snapped Rupert. You’re in a place of temporal punishment until you have been instructed how to be purified of your sins,

My sins?

Yes, Theodore. Until you are clean and purged, you’re in limbo, much to my delight,

Are you supposed to be like God or something? asked Theodore suspiciously.

Tell me Theodore, when you were a little boy, and you had this picture in your head of what God looked like, did the image tell you that the supreme ruler of the universe, the all-knowing, all-powerful omnipresence and source of all, was a balding, farsighted Cherub with a growth hormone deficiency? So in answer to your question, no Theodore, I’m not God,

You’re a Cherub? queried Theodore, narrowing his eyes. Aren’t Cherub’s meant to be like beautiful rosy-cheeked children with wings playing the harp?

Yes, that’s right! growled Rupert returning to his papers. But I play the harp badly and only perform for private engagements,

After a few minutes of being immersed and oblivious to Theodore’s discomfort, he handed him a thin wedge of documents.

What’s this?

Rupert leant back in his chair and lifted his horn-rimmed spectacles, rubbed his eyes tiredly then steepled his fingers together, before fixing Theodore with the look of a man who had been asked the same question many, many times over.

That, Theodore Platt, is your life and death contract. Sorry it’s not bound, I ran out of paperclips,

Theodore’s eyes scanned the front cover of the wedge, his lips mouthing the words. It read simply:

The Life & Death of Theodore Platt

Snorting he quickly skimmed through the first few pages, and then raised his eyebrows at Rupert questioningly.

My life? What…….like in a book or something?

Yes…something like that, said Rupert nonchalantly.

It’s not very thick, and the wording is rather small,

It’s a part of our heavenly obligation to reduce our carbon footprint by the end of the year so we’re trying to move to a paperless office. If you have a problem with that, please write a letter to my complaints department, put in an envelope with a nice big shiny stamp, fold it up real nice and then shove it up your ass,

Do you always answer so rudely to people? asked Theodore.

Yes, of course, it’s an obsession of mine but thanks for asking. It’s the job; it makes me an angry person inside. Front-of-desk is tremendously underpaid and terribly menial given the interactions with simpletons like you. I really, really wish I could crack a smile for you but I fear it would fade almost instantly when I remember that I’m nothing more than a glorified receptionist,

You’re a bit of a jerk really, aren’t you? said Theodore angrily.

Let me let you into a little well known secret up here, Theodore. I’m not a nice guy, I’m not everybody’s friend, I don’t say nice things and I try my best to offend people at every opportunity. If it helps, consider the fact that your anger directed at me is actually a precious gift to me. One that I will, in all honesty, cherish until the moment your backside leaves my office,

Theodore blinked a couple of times and looked back down at the papers in his hand then back up to Rupert and cleared his throat.

You sign on page 52. It's three pages before the last page, snapped Rupert, smoothing a hand over his disheveled comb-over and patting it gently.

But I’m not dead! replied Theodore. I’m just in some kind of weird dream or something,

Of course you’re dead, why else would you be here? This is why you’re going to sign that document with no trouble at all!

But I can’t be dead! I’m still here,

Rupert folded his arms across his chest and fixed him with an offensively condescending look.

Look around you Theodore, does this feel normal to you? Go on look around. I can tell you’re confused; people are always confused when they come to me. Tell me, do you know how many people have died from head trauma because they slipped and fell in the bath?

Is that how you think I died?

It’s how I know you died. Turn to page 51, paragraph 3; it’s near the end….obviously!

Theodore quickly found the page and read the words out aloud.

Today, as I stepped into the bath, I slipped and fell over the edge of the tub, he said turning to the next page, then frowning. Is that it?

It was your time Theodore and when it's your time, well it’s your time, answered Rupert looking up at him through his spectacles. Stupid people who do stupid things die stupidly. But I have some advice they don’t teach you down there. Want to hear it?

What? errrrr…..Sure,

Please invest in a non-slip bath mat of some sort. Sound advice,

This is so strange I can’t remember a thing, mumbled Theodore, flipping through the pages nonplussed.

Let me explain that. At birth you have no memory or evidence of life beyond birth and it’s the same after death, except we preserve the smallest recollection of your life, your name, so you can confirm to me your identity. Details, Theodore Platt, are very important you see,

 So I don’t get it then, why am I not in heaven?

Rupert sighed, glanced over his shoulder at the door, then leaned forward in his chair lacing his pudgy fingers together and closing his eyes briefly.

Your sins Theodore, I’m afraid. If you read your contract it goes into more detail and lists why your application was unsuccessful,

But I’ve never sinned….. said Theodore frowning.

Rupert raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Theodore you won’t remember this but you masturbated 7646 times in 18 years. It’s on page 36. I underlined that bit for you,

Is that a sin? asked Theodore not bothering to look for the page.

Is that a sin? mimicked Rupert sarcastically. Yes Theodore, it is. Even the smallest sin is deeply offensive to Him. See, I would love to wave you through that door behind me, but you have to be punished accordingly.

What is the punishment?

The particulars of your punishment are detailed in your contract,

What happens if I refuse to accept my punishment?

Then you shall never know peace…..ever! What you need to know is that time up here means nothing. It just goes on and on and on, and you will be condemned to walk these corridors for eternity as nothing more than a wandering, restless spirit and believe me it gets boring real, real fast. So pay attention to your directions or get your comfy walking shoes on. Tell me; do those walls outside need a splash of color?

Theodore shook his head and fanned through the documents again, squinting hard at the small words.

Page 12,

He looked up at Rupert then jumped to the page and scanned the words.

I hope it’s a good one, said Rupert chuckling.

It says that I, the sinfully damned, have to kill myself every day at precisely 3:00pm until otherwise stated, and only when God is satisfied that I have been purified of my venial sins will I be considered for glorious entry into heaven,

A little harsh, admitted Rupert. But then God is a cantankerous old bastard,

It goes on to say that if these terms and conditions are not met then the full blown wrath of God will be revealed,

It's to the point, I like that, said Rupert.

So that means that every single day I have to kill myself?

Yes, replied Rupert stifling a yawn behind the back of his hand. And remember, at precisely 3:00pm. He’s a little funny about that sort of thing,

But why 3:00pm?

We need to keep it in a biblical context and that’s the time Big J died,

Big J? said Theodore looking nonplussed.

J.C, offered Rupert, nodding his head knowingly.

Theodore shook his head thoroughly confused.

J.Diddy?

Theodore blinked his eyes and shook his head again just as confused as before.

Awwww come on. Jesus! Heard of him? You know our savior and redeemer? snorted Rupert rolling his eyes. Did you never take religious studies as a child?

"I…I don’t remember?

Course you don’t, mumbled Rupert. I forget that part,

But how do I kill myself? Won’t it be painful?

A little; depends on your method I guess, but you have to remember 3:00pm, not 2:59pm or 3:01pm,

But how can it be painful if I’m already dead, queried Theodore scratching the back of his head.

Rupert took a deep breath, flicked a quick irritated look at his watch, and then glanced around Theodore at the door leading to the hallway from where he had come.

Never question the truly wonderful powers of our lord, he said quickly.

But isn’t suicide like an unforgiveable sin in God’s eyes?

Kinda ironic, don’t you think? said Rupert shrugging his shoulders.

This is ridiculous. Don’t you have like an Ombudsman up here that I could speak to?

No Theodore, we don’t have a heavenly Ombudsman,

I’m very confused as to what’s going on here, he muttered, staring down at the contract.

You’re like a little whiny voice in my head that won’t go away, snapped Rupert, pulling out a pen and rolling it across the table. Now sign the contract, page 52,

Theodore reached for the pen then paused and opened his mouth to say something.

It’s time to sign the contract, hissed Rupert.

But…

Just sign the contract, Theodore, growled Rupert through gritted teeth.

This has got to be the weirdest dream ever, whispered Theodore, placing the contract on the table and thumbing through the pages until he reached page 52.

With a quick neat squiggle at the bottom of the page he signed his name and slid the papers across to Rupert who peered at it for a second then pushed it back towards him.

Good, that’s that then. Remember it’s now valid and you are bound by its terms,

Rupert smiled, but it was less an expression of someone who was pleased but instead rather resembled the smile a snake would make before it detached its jaw to consume its stricken prey.

With a grunt he stood up from the desk. He was indeed very short.

I would first like to extend my warmest regards and thanks, he said, thrusting his hand out and pumping Theodore’s a few times. We’ll be seeing you very soon I’m sure of it,

errrr…..thank you, mumbled Theodore.

Rupert nodded at the door behind him, and then sat back down in his chair with a dull thump.

Right then, said Theodore half-turning. I’ll be…going I guess,

One more thing! said Rupert raising a finger into the air but not looking up.

Oh!

I’ve doled out quite a bit of advice over the years. It gives me nausea and increased anxiety, but let me impart some of my wisdom on you before we go our separate ways. It may help you in the long run,

Ok, said Theodore with hope in his eyes.

Don’t masturbate, that is all,

Theodore nodded and left the room silently, closing the white door behind him. Then the hallway spun from his vision and he blacked out.

Chapter 2

Theodore woke with a start, taking a moment to register that the creamy-white sky he was blinking rapidly at was actually the ceiling to his apartment bedroom.

He rubbed his face slowly, still hazy from sleep and tried to remember the dream he had just had, but it was fading from his conscious thought fast.

There had been white, a lot of white, and a room with an obnoxious balding man in it named Rupert who had tried to convince Theodore that he was dead. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant dream, not the kind that left you feeling warm and fuzzy inside, rather it was quite disturbing and a little scary.

Kicking aside the bed sheets he rummaged around until he could locate his socks that were wrapped up in the covers, and then pulled them on while yawning loudly.

Shrugging down one trouser leg of his green plaid sleeping pants he snagged a t-shirt that was hung on the bed post, dragged it over his head and forced himself to his feet with a sigh, still feeling slightly groggy.

Rubbing his palms hard against his tired gritty eyes he wandered over to the open window of his third floor apartment and looked out across at the building opposite, hoping to catch sight of his beautiful neighbor Hayley. She was kind of a voyeuristic obsession of his and each morning, and often in the night, he would while away his time gazing out of his window smitten with a mixture of longing at the woman who would never be his.

Sometimes, on the precious days that they shared together, unbeknown to Hayley, he would watch her intensely through his binoculars with a shy smile playing about his lips as she combed her long, brown mussed hair in her bedroom mirror by the window. Theodore wasn't a pervert. Of that he was certain, or at least relatively certain. He just secretly enjoyed checking out his neighbors rack while she was scantily dressed. She was nothing