[WP] Every time you die, you are reincarnated, but you keep all your memories. You can’t tell anyone or else you will die permanently. from WritingPrompts
Greg opened his eyes and recognized the small, tastefully decorated office. It reminded him of a psychologist’s office every time he woke up in the room. He took a deep breath and relaxed back against the leather reclining chair he sat in. After several minutes a knock sounded on the door, then the noise was followed by a man in a dark suit entering. The knock seemed more of a warning than asking permission.
“Hey, primo. How’d it go this time? Ready to move on?” The suited gentleman asked. Greg shrugged.
“I don’t know, ‘cuz, I can still do it better. Let me go ’round again,” Greg asked. The suited man reached into his pocket, pulled several french fries and ate them while he considered Greg’s request.
“Man, I should’ve moved you on a long time ago. My job’s gone if anyone finds out I’ve been sending you back with your memories.” The doubts began to creep up on him, as they did every time. Greg knew just what to say.
“Hurry up, Ezey,” Greg used the nickname he gave his cousin, Ezekial Yzaguirre, when they were younger before either of them died. Ezey passed away first, and Greg was surprised to find his cousin employed as a case-worker in the after-life. “My daughter just got pregnant. If you hurry I can be friends with my grandkid! C’mon ‘Cuz. God put you here for a reason, help the family, primo. I’m not gonna say anything to ruin it for either of us.”
“Alright, fine. But this is the last chance. Next time I’m moving you on, whether you’re ready or not,” Ezey said as he munched on another handful of fries. “Deal?” He asked. Greg nodded and offered Ezekial a handshake. He closed his eyes and waited to be born again.
Greg opened his eyes and recognized the small, tastefully decorated office. It reminded him of a psychologist’s office every time he woke up in the room. He took a deep breath and relaxed back against the leather reclining chair he sat in. After several minutes a knock sounded on the door, then the noise was followed by a man in a dark suit entering. The knock seemed more of a warning than asking permission.
“Alright, primo, I got your paperwork here. Just need a signature.” Ezey handed Greg a clipboard and a pen. Greg refused to accept the clipboard.
“What do you mean? Nothing happened! I don’t remember a thing,” he complained. Ezey shrugged.
“Bad luck, primo. Stillbirth.” He pressed the clipboard into Greg’s hands.
“That’s not fair, it doesn’t count!”
“You’ve been around 10 ten times. If you haven’t learned that life isn’t fair yet, that’s deliberately choosing ignorance,” Ezey said. “Sign the paper, ‘cuz. We made a deal.” Greg looked down at the white sheet of paper. It was entirely blank except for a golden ‘X’ and a glittering golden line for his signature.
“What happens if I don’t sign it?”
“You have to go around again,” Ezey began to explain. Greg’s face lit up.
“That’s what I want!” But Ezey shook his head.
“You have to go around again, from the beginning. Clean wipe, start all over. All the memories you’ve kept so far will be gone.
“Oh. Yeah, I don’t want that,” Greg sighed, defeated. He picked up the golden pen and signed his name with golden ink.
“Don’t worry, primo. You’re gonna love the next life,” Ezey reassured his cousin.
