[ WP ] '' Death Insurance '' is a paid subscription service that brings a loved one back to life for the next 24 hours after their death in order to say goodbye . You awake after your death to discover you were a recipient of a gift subscription from an unknown benefactor .

I peeled my eyes open one at a time, reluctant to face the other side. I knew I was dead, I knew I was dying before I lost consciousness. 
 
 Now I only saw a single light beaming down, just glaring into my corneas. My body was laid out on a cold, metal, semi-upright chair. Odd, aren ’ t you supposed to become conscious outside a gate waiting to be called in by St. Peter? Panic brings bile to my throat. 
 
 WHAM! I wrench my body upwards and am met with a hanging lamp to the skull. Between the spinning hot ball of panic in my chest and the searing new crack in my skull, I know I must be in hell. If death hadn ’ t stolen my pain from me than I must be doomed to an eternity of torture by my biggest fears, starting with the dentist ’ s office. 
 
 “ HA. ” A husky, scrunched-faced man in a trademarked red polo walks over flicking a syringe. His fat sausage fingers shoved into blue rubber gloves gave my panic a new vibrancy. 
 
 I certainly hadn ’ t recovered my speech after death. I was dead right? 
 
 “ Alright, let ’ s get this clock started shall we? Death is already impatient with humanity as it is. ” The agent closes in with relaxed but practiced posture. 
 
 I NOPED the fuck off that chair and slammed my back against the wall. It made sense that panic would follow me beyond the veil, or rather across Styx. 
 
 An impatient and nearly angry look crawled onto his stupid, demonic face, “ Hey, you paid for the lowest policy. No waking up in a Turkish bathhouse for you. Come on, for once I have more than one person to prepare for their 24 and I just wan na go home and wait for my own death. Just take the drugs, say your goodbyes, and tell your nieces and nephews where Auntie hid the family jewels. ” 
 
 *Their 24*, shit… no... someone took out death insurance on me. I was alive! *Wait why? * Only the rich could afford death insurance, even now given that it ’ s fallen out of practice. 
 
 It was then that I found my words, “ I didn ’ t take this policy out. Who did this to me? ” 
 
 It ’ s widely regarded as an antiquated and cruel concept, death insurance. Since so many came back in those early years begging to be thrown back before their 24 hours were up. Death had robbed many of them of their sight, most movement, but never their pain. They never had the strength to re-kill themselves but ached for it. 
 
 Policyholders had to not only watch, but also feel every new rotting spot of flesh. That rotting happened at a breakneck pace, so very much faster than nonpolicy holders. The rapid decomp, as claimed the religious zealots, was God ’ s way of telling us to stop playing his game. 
 
 Many policyholders broke multiple bones in the process of saying goodbyes. Most the time it was their jaw. Muscles and bones were somewhat preserved but not maintained after death. No anesthetic would be given as their hearts weren ’ t pushing any new blood through their veins. 
 
 Sadly it didn ’ t stop there. In the hours, sometimes days, policyholders had been dead, they were privy to secrets that turned their physical brains into hallucinating piles of decomposing tissue and puss. 
 
 I wish I knew more about medicine in my life because something was wrong here. 
 
 Why was I different? I had felt adrenaline, which meant my heart was moving. The panic meant my brain was reacting to outside stimuli, chemicals were being disbursed. My brain only remembered before I lost conscious certain I would die, but I don ’ t remember how it happened or where I was. 
 
 “ Jesus, shit, I ’ m sorry. ” Husky Agent Man put syringe down on the bedside table and waved his hands in the air, “ I didn ’ t realize you weren ’ t aware you had died. No one has ever come back *not* knowing of their own death. ” 
 
 “ How? ” 
 
 The agent picked up a chart hanging off the arm of the chair, “ Aneurism. ” His lined face softened. His pity disgusted me. Someone has done far worse to me than an aneurism ever could. 
 
 “ Who did this to me? ” I took only a few steps forward, feeling the weight of my own corporeal form. 
 
 “ Looks like it was done internally. Do you know a Jake from State Farm? ” 

