[ WP ] You die in a tragic accident . While sitting on a bench in purgatory , Mr/Mrs.Death approaches you and says , `` Pick a game , any game , and if you are the victor , I 'll send you back to the day before the accident . ''

I was sitting on a bench but had no idea how I got there. 
 
 I glanced around. I was in some room with no windows. Just the bench I sat on and two doors on the wall in front of me. One on the left and one on the right. Soft music played through speakers I couldn ’ t see. Even though I couldn ’ t hear the depth of the music, the sounds soothed my mind. 
 
 I started getting to my feet when there was a knock at the door on the right. I paused and stared at it. There was another knock, this time followed by a muffled voice. 
 
 “ Hello? ” it said. 
 
 “ Um, come in? ” I responded. 
 
 The door opened and a figure entered. I say figure because I couldn ’ t distinguish a gender right away. It had an attractive face, wavy hair down to its prominent cheekbones and a wide smile. It wore a long coat similar to a physician ’ s. 
 
 “ How are you feeling? ” it asked. 
 
 “ Fine, I think. Where am I? ” 
 
 The being sat down in a chair I hadn ’ t noticed before and took a deep breath. It was a combination of sorrow and frustration. 
 
 “ I hate this part… ” it muttered to itself. “ You ’ re dead. ” 
 
 My reaction never came. I sat there, mute and staring straight ahead, waiting for the crack of a smile or some indication that this was all some weird joke. But it never came. The figure stared straight back at me and brushed a wave of hair out of its face. 
 
 “ Dead, ” I heard myself repeat. 
 
 The figure nodded. “ Dead. ” 
 
 I looked into its eyes, hoping to find some flicker of relief. But I felt myself being pulled into the grey centers. The music softened and then faded as I lifted off the bench. Like being lulled to sleep by a hypnotist. Perchance to dream. 
 
 It broke eye contact and covered its eyes. 
 
 “ Sorry, ” it said, looking at the floor. “ Try not to look into my eyes too long. ” 
 
 “ Who are you? ” I asked, blinking away the haze. 
 
 It looked back up at me with a wan smile. 
 
 “ I ’ m Death. And I ’ m very sorry we have to meet in these circumstances. ” 
 
 Death? Like the Death? Did I die? When? Is that how I got in this creepy room? Sitting across from this -- 
 
 “ I just want you to know, ” it said, raising its hands as if in defense. “ I can hear your thoughts if they ’ re clear enough. It ’ s… one of the rules of this realm. ” 
 
 Maybe it was bluffing. Or maybe it really could hear my thoughts. Either way, I decided to play along. 
 
 “ How ’ d I die? ” I asked. 
 
 “ There was an accident. On the way to that job you hated. ” 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 “ Feel free to ask me whatever you want, ” it said. “ But our time is limited. I have an offer for you if you ’ d like to hear it. ” 
 
 I held my palms up and shrugged, encouraging it to proceed. 
 
 “ Okay, ” it said, inching forward in its chair. Clearly excited. “ Your life -- no offense -- wasn ’ t that great. You hated your job, couldn ’ t keep a relationship and never really did anything with your gifts. ” 
 
 A terrible feeling followed that statement. Not offensive because I knew I couldn ’ t argue. I glanced at the floor and nodded in agreement.. 
 
 “ Don ’ t worry, ” it said. “ You ’ re not the only one. It ’ s becoming more common. Lots of distractions up there. ” 
 
 It saw that I wasn ’ t taking any relief from this statement. 
 
 “ Anyway, ” it continued. “ I ’ ve been given permission to give you another chance. Pick a game, any game. And if you are the victor, I ’ ll send you back to the day before the accident. ” 
 
 “ And I won ’ t die? ” I asked. 
 
 “ I can ’ t promise that. The events of your death have been erased. You merely have the choice to do something different with your last moments. It might change the events surrounding your death, it may not. ” 
 
 I glanced at my hands, folded in front of me. I rubbed my face and temples as I considered. 
 
 “ How does it work? ” I asked. 
 
 “ Again, ” it said. “ Pick any game you want. Monopoly, Go Fish, whatever. If you win, I ’ ll tell you a door. Left or right. Then you can choose the door to go through. You can take my advice or you can ignore it. But only one door will take you back to the day before the accident. ” 
 
 “ What about the other one? ” 
 
 It shrugged. 
 
 “ Unfortunately, that will have to remain a mystery. So as not to sway your last moment of free will. ” 
 
 I glanced at both doors. No light or darkness from behind either. They were identical. 
 
 “ What games are... *popular* in this situation? ” 
 
 It smiled. 
 
 “ You ’ re the first to ever have this option. ” 
 
 I didn ’ t respond or react. Was this an honor? Some trick? Did one of the doors lead to paradise and the other to damnation? Was this all some game on me? What game should I pick? I wasn ’ t particularly good at games, so I decided to get this over with and leave it to chance. 
 
 “ Rock, paper, scissors, ” I heard myself say. My voice sounded faint. With reverb. 
 
 Death threw its head back and let out a hearty laugh. It had clean and beautiful teeth. An envious smile. 
 
 “ You ’ re a great sport, ” it said, shaking its head. “ I really like you. ” 
 
 “ Thanks? ” I asked, wondering if having Death admire me was a true compliment. 
 
 “ Okay. So the rules. We go ‘ one, two, three, shoot ’ and make our move on ‘ shoot. ’ Not before. Best two out of three. Good? ” 
 
 “ Good. ” 
 
 I held out my left hand, palm up and placed my right fist on top. 
 
 “ Ready? ” it asked. 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 “ One, two, three, *shoot! * ” 
 
 I chose rock. It chose scissors. 
 
 “ Nice job! ” it said. “ Okay. One to zip. Round two. One, two, three, *shoot! * ” 
 
 I chose paper. It stayed with scissors. 
 
 “ Ah, ” it said, twisting its face. “ Sorry. One to one. Last round. Ready? This one ’ s for the bank. ” 
 
 I didn ’ t feel anxious or nervous. No adrenaline clouded my body or mind. My right hand remained steady on my left palm. 
 
 “ I ’ m ready. ” 
 
 “ One, two, three, *shoot! * ” 
 
 I stayed with paper. It stayed with scissors. 
 
 I lost. 
 
 Death looked up from both our hands with a rueful expression. 
 
 “ I ’ m sorry, ” it said. 
 
 “ Don ’ t be, ” I managed as I shook my head. I was ready. I wasn ’ t sure if I even *wanted* to go back to my life. I deserved to stay dead. Behind whatever door it told me. 
 
 But as I looked up, Death was staring at me, hard. It felt strange to be stared at like that all of a sudden. As if it was trying to tell me something with the deep eyes I shouldn ’ t look into. 
 
 “ Your door is the one on the right. ” 
 
 It pointed over its shoulder at the right door, but kept its eyes fixed on me. Staring hard. I stared back, feeling myself being pulled in again. 
 
 Suddenly, its eyes flicked to the left door behind him. I blinked. Then I glanced at the left door. Death closed its eyes and nodded softly. 
 
 I got to my feet. The room already felt like a distant memory. 
 
 “ Thank you, ” I said to Death, who remained seated, staring ahead. 
 
 I approached the door on the left and didn ’ t hesitate as I opened it. 
 
 
 EDIT - we sit ON benches. Not IN them. 

