Soothsayer of Ur
They say that when you lay upon your death bed, your life flashes before your eyes; every moment, every memory resurfaces with such clarity that it
would seem as if you are reliving your entire existence in that one fleeting moment.
I wish I could say that were true, but I can't.
They say you cannot ascend to Heaven, or be condemned to Hell, without first accounting for everything you've ever done on Earth... that much, I
honestly can say, is
I've been wandering this world for twelve years; twelve long years of trying to find myself, of who I was. I can't even remember how I died; my
first real memory was of my standing over this rain-soaked body, the sounds of police and onlookers surrounding me. The police could find no ID, no
paperwork of any kind that could help them, help me, in giving me a name. The coroner arrived and signed me off as a John Doe.
After my autopsy, it was learned I had no traceable prints, no documented records... nothing. Apparently, I didn't exist until after my death.
My burial was a sad and lonely affair. The local priest, his attendant, and myself were the only ones there. Oh, the coroner's ofice tried their
best to find family; they contacted various shelters, hospitals, checked missing persons reports. They even filed an oituary with the local papers in
the slight chance that someone would know of me.
So that is how my life began, and how I started 12 years of searching for who I am and where I came from. I visited different places to see what
interested me, to use that as a reference, but nothing held.
Will I be forced to wander the world, never knowing who I am? Am I only to understand the world through the actions of strangers, and the words I
over hear? Where is my
hopes or fears?
Every year, on this day, I roam back to my grave, hoping to see someone there... or at least a flower by my side... but no. All I see is my marker,
and the obituary laminated onto the stone...
August 18 1992-
Abandoned white newborn male discovered dead by police; brown hair and eyes, strawberry birthmark on left thigh. Please contact
with information in regards.
My life began twelve years ago, on the day I died.