A man who was forgotten by society and has even forgotten his own name dies in sleep on a cold winters day. However, though it is the end of his life it is the beginning of a brand new chapter for him.

You can Read the Full Story Here with Early Access by Donating to My Patreon:https://www.patreon.com/posts/97935180

The Full Story Will Be Uploaded to this website on 2/20/24!

~~~

“Death comes for us all. Even for kings he comes.” – Robert Bolt.

The main man of this story was by no means a king. In fact by all means he was the exact opposite. He was homeless, broke, and had no leadership skills whatsoever. Yet even so, death came for him.

Just who was this man though? Before his demise, no one knew his real name. Heck, even he had long forgotten it. So we shall call him “Nameless”

Nameless was a white long black haired male with blue eyes and a tattered suit. No one knew how old he was but they estimated around 50 or 60 due to the wrinkles and gray streaks. He had no wallet. It was very unlikely he’d be paying for a funeral. Given his situation though, he probably wouldn’t have gotten one anyways.

The officers found his corpse on a cold winters’ day. It was in an alleyway between 2 buildings. Said that he died in his sleep. Hyperthermia or starvation. They didn’t bother to investigate it though, as it was sadly a common case in this city. Most people on this block showed compassion towards others. Those that did usually only gave him a dollar or a bit of food. They never gave him shelter.

This isn’t a story of the fury of the Nameless man in the afterlife though. Though Nameless was now living on as a ghost, he wasn’t angry. He was just…surprised.

“Huh…” Nameless said, or rather the ghost of him said, “so this is the after life.”

No one responded to him. The cops that found the body didn’t notice the specter, and obviously his corpse couldn’t answer either. Nameless was used to getting ignored when people asked him for money so it didn’t phase him. Of course, seeing his own corpse definitely did give him a scare. At the same time though after being under the cold for so long…death was honestly a reprieve.

Then a thought occurred to Nameless “Why am I still on earth?” It was a small thought but it had a lot of implications. Was this hell? If not, did hell not exist? Or was it heaven that didn’t exist?

He didn’t think he had unfinished business left on earth, he never had any business to begin with. He also didn’t think the market was calling for ghosts if it was to get a job.

Ultimately though, Nameless could do nothing except stare at the sight ahead of him. Fate had determined it was the time for him to die. Who was he to deny a higher power?

It was around when the police had finally left Nameless he heard a strange tune. One that made the hairs on his ghostly handstand on edge. He didn’t know where it was coming from but he knew that it was not an instrument making the noises. It was a whistle. The man also didn’t recognize the tune, though to him most music was foreign. It was scary, but at the same time comforting. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

The whistling stopped. Nameless smiled. “That,” he thought, “was a lovely tune. Dark yet imposing.”

“Don’t you want to know who hummed that tune?” said a voice that wasn’t his own.