Cheating Death 25 Times – Updates

At age seventy, I sometimes joke that I am living in the bonus round of life.

I have cheated death twenty-five times—or at least that is the number I have counted. Some close calls were medical. Others were accidents. A few remain difficult to explain. Whether it was luck, fate, stubbornness, good doctors, good genes, or something watching over me, I am still here.

The story began before I was old enough to remember.

I was born in Oakland, California, in 1955, two months premature. Doctors warned my parents that survival was uncertain. If I did survive, they predicted serious health problems. Some of those predictions came true. I grew up with poor eyesight, partial hearing loss, a speech impediment, and learning challenges.

Childhood was a medical obstacle course. Between the ages of two and six, I contracted what felt like every childhood illness imaginable: measles, German measles, whooping cough, influenza, mumps, pneumonia, and other infections. I missed almost an entire school year and had to repeat first grade. Yet somehow I survived.

There was one irony. While my body seemed determined to malfunction, my mind raced ahead. By age six I was reading books far beyond my grade level, reading at the graduate school level!. Books became my refuge, and later they would become my lifeline.

For years my health stabilized,although I had several episodes of pneumonia, the flu, severe hay fever, and asthma attacks, and survived a car crash in high school. Later, when I went to college, I almost lost my life when a rogue wave swept me out to sea along the Mendocino coast, and drank way too much on more occasions than I remember, feeling like a truck ran me over the next day .

Then came Korea.

After college, I joined the Peace Corps and was assigned to South Korea. During training, I drank water from a mountain stream. Shortly afterward, I developed a severe fever and gastrointestinal illness. Doctors eventually diagnosed typhoid fever.

I spent weeks in a Seoul hospital recovering. The Peace Corps offered me an opportunity to transfer programs or return home. I declined. I had worked too hard to get there.

In retrospect, that decision revealed an important trait: I was stubborn. Sometimes stubbornness is a flaw. Sometimes it keeps you alive.

My years in Korea produced several other close calls. During one trip, my wife and I were driving across the country toward the east coast. Traffic suddenly backed up. For reasons I still cannot explain, I felt strongly that we should leave the freeway immediately.

My wife took the exit.

A short time later we discovered a massive multi-car pileup farther ahead. Had we stayed on course, we likely would have driven directly into it, and likely that would have been the end of my life at age 30!.

I have always been skeptical about supernatural explanations. But that experience remains difficult for me to dismiss completely. Sometimes intuition speaks softly but urgently.

Another time, while participating in a Hash House Harriers run, I was jogging beside train tracks while distracted and nearly stepped directly into the path of an oncoming train. I jumped clear at the last possible moment.

At that point I had already accumulated several stories about cheating death.

I thought the list was complete.

I was wrong.

The Closest I Came to Dying Occurred in 1996.

One morning before dawn, I went jogging near my apartment in the Washington area. In the darkness, I misjudged the path and stepped into a drop-off hidden by shadows.

I fell and shattered my heel.

What initially appeared to be a serious orthopedic injury evolved into a catastrophic medical nightmare. Military doctors attempted a complex reconstructive procedure, involving shark cartridge.  Unfortunately for me, a staph infection developed. Antibiotics failed to stop it, as the shark cartridge prevented the antibiotics from reaching the staph infection site, and the staph infection continued to fester and grow.. The infection spread and eventually became multidrug-resistant.

During the months that followed, I underwent fourteen operations.

I spent nearly six months in Walter Reed Hospital.

Several times doctors discussed the possibility of amputating my leg. More than once, I came frighteningly close to losing my life.

What I remember most clearly is not fear.

It was boredom.

Confined to the hospital, unable to move much, I read relentlessly. I read approximately three hundred books that year. Every morning I visited the hospital library and checked out another volume. Reading kept me sane.  The military doctors thought I was an unlucky Army Major; I never corrected them, enjoying being considered an Army Major!

Those months changed me.

Before the accident, I tended to take tomorrow for granted. Afterward, tomorrow felt like a privilege rather than a guarantee.

The infection eventually retreated, but the complications continued.

Years of treatment left me dealing with chronic pain, arthritis, fibromyalgia, and other lingering medical issues. At one point, doctors discovered a rare parasite probably acquired during my years in Southeast Asia. Left untreated, it could have become deadly if activated by steroid treatments.

. Fortunately for me, the doctors found it on time and gave me medicine to kill it.  Six months later, I developed a frozen shoulder syndrome due to excessive antibiotic usage, and if the doctors had not found the parasite, the steroid treatment prescribed would have triggered the parasite, which would balloon out to the size of a large Pilates ball, killing the patient in 30 minutes, and because it was such a rare parasite, my death would have been ruled a medical mystery

Another close call followed when aggressive antibiotic therapy disrupted my digestive system so severely that I developed an acute gastrointestinal crisis. Doctors later told me that if I had delayed treatment much longer, I might not have survived.

The lesson seemed almost absurd.

After surviving fourteen operations and a multidrug-resistant staph infection, I nearly died from my own digestive bacteria staging a revolt.

Life has a strange sense of humor.

The list continued.

I

developed dengue fever while serving in Barbados.

I survived COVID.

I walked away from multiple car accidents.

A rogue wave nearly swept me out to sea on the California coast during my younger years.

A tear gas canister narrowly missed me during periods of political unrest in Korea.

A bus almost hit me.

A train almost hit me.

Almost crashed the one time I tried riding a motobike in Bangkok.

Several times, circumstances aligned in ways that could easily have ended my story.

Yet here I remain.

People sometimes ask why I seem unusually cheerful despite chronic pain and all the health problems.

The answer is simple.

When you spend months wondering whether you will survive, your priorities change.

Small inconveniences lose their power.

Bad days become manageable.

Minor frustrations become laughable.

You stop assuming there will always be another opportunity to call a friend, take a trip, read a book, or tell someone you love them.

You begin treating ordinary days as gifts.

I am not fearless. Quite the opposite. Coming close to death repeatedly makes you deeply aware of mortality.

I know perfectly well that one day my luck will run out. Eventually everyone meets the Grim Reaper.

But until then, I consider every sunrise another bonus round.

Twenty-five times I escaped.

Maybe it was luck.

Maybe it was good medical care.

Maybe it was intuition.

Maybe it was something I cannot explain.

Whatever the reason, I am grateful.

 

And when my final day eventually arrives, I hope I get the chance to ask the grim reaper, a simple question:

“Why did you let me get away twenty-five times?”Ten Death Senryu

Death Senryu

Death Is on the Mind

death is on the mind
seventy trips round the sun
he waits patiently

 

Cheated Death Again

 

cheated death again
twenty-five close calls so far
still collecting days

Saw the Grim Reaper

 

saw the Grim Reaper
waiting quietly in dreams
checking his watch still

One Step Closer

 

birthday candles glow
one step closer to the grave
mother laughed and smiled

Morning Jog Almost Killed Me

 

before dawn I ran
one missed step shattered my heel
death missed me that day

General COVID Visited Me

 

General COVID visited me

stayed longer than invited
still I showed him out

Dengue Fever

 

dengue fever came
six long weeks of aches and pain
life returned slowly

Typhoid Fever

 

Korean ward room
typhoid nearly ended me
nurses taught me hope

Trains and Cars

 

train on one side
wrecked cars on the other side
still walking between

 

Rogue Wave

rogue wave lifted me
Pacific cold in my lungs
shore pulled me back home

 

Escape from Hell Story

Partying with the Grim Reaper Stories

 

I have written several stories and poems about meeting the Grim Reaper in Limbo while waiting for my final status determination.

Index

Sam Adams Rides the Strange Horse

Sam Adams Last Drink

The Leaves Crunched Beneath My Feet
Time to Go

The Grim Reaper Gathers His Posse

Waiting for The Grim Reaper’s Embrace

Run Like Hell

 

 The Department of Misplaced Realities

A surreal, eerie, comedic cosmic‑bureaucracy story (safe content)

Stories

The Department of Misplaced Realities AI assisted

Joe Lewis Meets the Grim Reaper By

Cryptic Message on my Phone

Just another Friday night in paradise he thought AI assisted.

Conversation with the Grim Reaper

Sam Adams Wakes Up In Limbo

Morning Train to Limbo

 

Poems

 

Sam Adams Rides the Strange Horse

Sam Adams Last Drink

The Leaves Crunched Beneath My Feet
Time to Go

The Grim Reaper Gathers His Posse

Waiting for The Grim Reaper’s Embrace

Run Like Hell

 

 The Department of Misplaced Realities

Part I — The Envelope That Should Not Exist

Marina Feldman found the envelope on her kitchen table at exactly 3:03 a.m., as if someone had placed it there between blinks. It was sealed with red wax shaped like a question mark, and the paper felt slightly warm, like it remembered being alive.

She stared at it groggily.

“I definitely didn’t leave this here,” she muttered.

The envelope sighed softly — an oddly bureaucratic sigh — as though it were tired of waiting for her.

Inside was a single card:

“You have been selected for Temporary Administrative Review.
Please report to:
THE DEPARTMENT OF MISPLACED REALITIES
Bring nothing. Expect less.”

Marina blinked.

 

The card blinked back.

 

Then a door appeared in her kitchen wall, humming like a cosmic HVAC unit.

 

“Well,” she said, “that’s new.”

Part II — Lobby 0

The door led into a vast lobby that had no edges. Desks floated lazily in midair as clerks in identical suits drifted between them, jotting notes onto clipboards that wrote back. A faint elevator music loop played — though, paradoxically, the building had no elevators.

A welcome sign flickered:

NOW SERVING:
∞ — 5
(Estimated wait time: Yes.)

 

A receptionist formed out of drifting origami paper.

 

“Name?” it asked pleasantly.

 

“Marina Feldman.”

 

The papers folded into a rough humanoid shape, scribbling notes on themselves.

 

“Reason for visit?”

 

“I… got this.” Marina showed the card.

 

The origami figure nodded sagely. “Ah. A Notification of Mild Concern. You’re early. Or late. Hard to say.”

It handed her a glowing cube.

 

“Take this to Office 1Q. Do not drop it. Do not shake it. Do not ask what’s inside.”

The cube vibrated faintly.

“And definitely do not open it.”

 

Marina clutched the cube. “What is Office 1Q?”

 

The receptionist gestured to the labyrinth around them.

 

“All hallways lead there eventually. Or they don’t. Depends on your attitude.”

Part III — The Guides Appear

As Marina wandered through halls that curved in ways geometry textbooks would never approve of, a figure in dark sunglasses stepped out from a wall as though it were merely pretending to be solid.

“Call me GR,” the figure said. “I oversee orientation. And disorientation.”

A second figure joined them — an elderly person in a vest covered with pockets that held pens, hourglasses, and coupons for metaphysical services.

“I’m Charon,” they said politely. “Transport division. But not that Charon. Common misconception.”

Marina frowned. “Am I dead?”

GR laughed softly. “Oh no. You’re just administratively interesting.”

Charon added, “A clerical anomaly, most likely. Happens all the time.”

Part IV — Office 1Q

They arrived at a door labeled:

OFFICE 1Q
Knock gently. The walls are listening.

Inside sat a single overworked clerk surrounded by files that rearranged themselves constantly, like restless cats. The clerk looked up, exhausted but cordial.

 

“Ah. Marina Feldman. We’ve been expecting you since Tuesday.”

 

“It’s Thursday,” Marina said.

 

“That explains the backlog.” The clerk stamped a form that stamped itself again for emphasis.

 

Then the clerk extended a hand.

 

“The cube, please.”

 

Marina handed it over.

 

The clerk opened a slot in the desk and gently placed the cube inside. The building shuddered in relief.

“Good news,” the clerk said brightly. “Your existence remains valid! You’ll be returned soon.”

 

Marina blinked. “Returned?”

 

“Yes,” GR said cheerfully. “Administrative misplacement happens. You slipped through a filing crack.”

 

Charon nodded. “We’ll escort you home.”

Part V — The Door Back

A door appeared in the air, glowing faintly.

 

“One last thing,” GR said, handing Marina a small metal token.

 

The token read:

 

VALID FOR ONE REALITY
Nonrefundable.
See back for terms.

 

“What is this?” Marina asked.

 

“A reminder,” GR said. “That once you’ve been seen by the Department… certain coincidences may start watching you back.”

Charon smiled kindly.

“Try not to worry. Most people forget the whole experience within a week.”

 

Marina stepped toward the floating door.

 

“Most people?”

 

Neither GR nor Charon answered.

 

She walked through.

Joe Lewis Meets the Grim Reaper 

 

 

Joe Lewis was retired, divorced, US Gov bot on a last fling trip in his life, and died one day after drinking too much in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, Thailand.

He found himself in a dark, forbidding, hot, and humid jungle with a foul smell of death and decaying vegetation everywhere. He sensed that creatures in the jungles were looking at him with evil, hungry, malicious intent, then he saw them as the dark fog lifted, and a bright red moonlight lit the jungle forest.

He saw a terrifying nightmare vision, – seeing giant apes, space aliens, banshees, bats, Bigfoot, centaurs, Cerberus, cheetahs, crows, coyotes, Cthulhu with tentacles, dragons, demons, dinosaurs (raptors and T. Rex), devils, dwarfs, gangbangers, gangsters, gangster rappers. Gators, goblins, ghouls, ghosts, giants, giant ants, giant wasps, giant spiders, giant lobsters, gunmen, hellhounds, big game hunters, government bureaucrats, holocausts, imps, Imperial Stormtroopers from Star Wars, naked incubus, leprechauns, jihadis, Lucifer, lions, politicians, mafia made men, ravens, monsters, orcs, reporters, bewitching beautiful yet deadly sirens, Satan, satyrs, snakes, winged monkeys, serpents, special forces soldiers, tigers, werewolves, wolves, witches, warlocks, wraiths, wild things, yeti, and zombies all staring at him. A half-centaur, half-pig monster with two heads–

 

The Putin-Trump pigman yelled out, “After him. All humans must die. Kill Joe.”

Even the trees came alive, trying to trip him up, as the nightmare creatures ran after him, the hunters, and soldiers firing flaming arrows and semi-automatic weapons lighting up the night sky, and the birds dive-bombing him trying to get his eyes and face, and the other creatures getting closer screaming.

“Death to all humans. Death to Joe Lewis.”

They were gaining on him when he came to a dark foul-smelling river. A ferryboat filled with hundreds of evil, depraved people on board was floating down the river.

Just as the creatures were about to pounce, he swam into the water, The boat stopped, and two strange-looking men pulled him out of the water. The human monsters on the ship looked at Joe and dismissed him as a loser, a refugee fleeing the monstrous welcoming committee, and not worthy of their time.

The two gentlemen who had pulled him out of the water were strange-looking people, rough-edged but better than the party people who continued to ignore him or made mocking references to the refugee. Charon, the conductor, an elderly Italian man dressed in a black suit, stood in front of the boat. The Grim Reaper, dressed in a dark suit wearing ray ban sunglasses, looking oh so cool, stood next to him. The Grim Reaper had a pan-ethnic look, could be almost any ethnicity in the world, but was vaguely non-quite human looking.

When he came aboard the ferryboat, he asked the two strange gentlemen who had rescued him,

“          Thanks for saving me. Where am I?”

Handing Joe, a cup of Hell whiskey, the older of the two introduced himself saying, “I am the Grim Reaper, and this is Charon, and you are on the ferry to Hell. You are floating down the river Styx, heading to Hell and beyond. We saved you from the welcoming committee. Normally they kill our visitors and take their dead bodies to Hell where they receive a bounty, and then you are reborn as a zombie slave, possessed by demons, becoming a ghost, or a ghoul, or are sent to Hell for punishment. But sometimes, virtuous people manage to escape and per our SOP we are obligated to take in the refugees and take them to Limbo for processing. Stay here my friend, because if you go to the party, you may never return to earth.” They are all going to the other place. You do not want to go there I assume.

He pointed out the partygoers, who ignored Joe. Many of them were infamous figures, including anti-vaxxer crusaders, bar owners, celebrities, corrupt politicians of both American parties, including Governors, Representatives, Senators, drug dealers, members of the British parliament and parliaments around the world, criminals, crooked cops, fake news reporters, gangsters, gangbangers, gangsta rappers, internet bloggers, idiots in both high and low places, “Criminal Lawyers ” media darlings, pharma bros, scumbags, scoundrels, wall street executives, thugs, Italian, Korean, Japanese Yakuza, and Vietnamese Mafia figures.

They were all standing around as if they were at a cocktail party of the newly damned, drinking, smoking dope, snorting coke, and meth, dropping acid, and flirting up a storm, enjoying the free food, drinks, and drugs provided by the” Hell Catering “company using robots and demonic slave labor. They were partying as if it were their last day on earth, and they knew where they were going. Many of them felt that they would somehow manage to thrive in Hell and were looking forward to it. None of them felt remorse or regret for the actions they had taken in their life. They were mostly entitled “rich people,” the self-proclaimed “masters of the universe. A punk rock band played non-stop punk anthems and obscene parodies of rock and disco songs.

We are taking you and Mr. Alvarez to Limbo for further processing. He may be going upstairs but being an attorney, I have my doubts. You know what they say about lawyers in heaven, there are almost none and Hell is filled with lawyers, crooked police officers, and mafia figures. Limbo is filled with bureaucrats and the red tape takes forever, and the computer system is always crashing. What can you expect? Well, it is hard to get tech support in Heaven or Limbo, all the tech folks tend to go to Hell. “

Mr. Alvarez was an elderly Italian attorney, a lifelong fighter against corruption, the mafia, and organized criminals, and a famous human rights attorney based in Rome.

They chatted about his life and Joe’s life. Mr. Alvarez said, “My friend GR said that I might be the only lawyer getting into heaven in

a long time. Most lawyers end up in the other place.”

The river was black as it was after midnight. There was a stench of decay and death, fire and brimstone, and fires burning in giant pits in the distance. The welcoming committee of nightmare creatures followed the boat shouting obscenities and jumping in the water to retrieve partiers who fell off the boat, taking them to shore where they tortured them, murdered them, and ate them.

The boat stopped at the gate to hell. The other people walked off to the basement of 666 5th Avenue, where there was one of many secret back doorways to the world above Hell. Demon functionaries dressed in Matrix Mr. Smith-style black suits met them at the ferry terminal. They disappeared into the depths of hell.

The Grim Reaper took Joe and Antonio to the next step, Limbo. A giant black building reached the sky, filled with demonic bureaucrats dressed in Matrix-like Mr. Smith black suits. The Grim Reaper said, “Wait here. It should not be too long; I like you so we will put you in front of the line.”

He saw hundreds of lost souls wandering around. There were signs in multiple languages saying.

“Wait your turn. You will be processed in the order received. No drinking, drugs, food, phone use, or sexual activity allowed. And no sleeping either. It should not be too long.”

Just then a demon functionary came up to him, hissing. “Joe, and Antonio, follow me.” And took him to where the Grim Reaper was waiting.

“Joe, Antonio, glad to see you. Please tip the demon.”

Joe paid him 100 dollars and Antonio 100 euros. The demon demanded more. The Grim Reaper swore at him in Demon speak and the demon disappeared into the crowd.

The Grim Reaper consulted his handheld computer, saying, “Hmm just as I suspected. You are wanted upstairs, and a guardian angel is watching you. But you almost did not make it in time. The computer program has a glitch, and you are being sent back to Earth. Your time for final status determination will be sooner than you think. I hope you and I can be friends. I can hire people as my assistants. We had a lot of fun. Think about it when you come back.”

Joseph Lewis woke up in bed next to his wife, he got up turned on his computer, and read the following message,

“Mr. Joe, I hope you enjoyed your tour last night. But unfortunately, there was a computer glitch in the matrix system that controls limbo, heaven, and hell. It is hard to get tech support in Limbo or Heaven, most of the engineers end up in hell. But in any event, we determined it was not yet your time.

Your friend made it fine and sends his regards. The drinks are on him when you and your wife finally make it. Oh, contrary to the old song, “In Heaven, there is no beer” we have the finest beer, wine, and spirits you can find in Heaven, and Hell as well.

As for the others, you saw, they too will visit the ferry for the last journey within a few years for most of them. But you know where they will end up.”

Your friend.

Mr. GR the Grim Reaper.

pilgrim’s process

Cryptic Message on my Phone

 

A cryptic message on my phone, popped up at midnight

It read

“Your time is up. Drink up and be prepared to learn your fate
Today is your judgement date. Mr. Black will meet you and escort you to Limbo
Where you will meet with Mr. GR.”

I looked up from my drink at the infamous Cosmos Club in Soi Cowboy
And saw a headless man wearing a black suit looking at me. He beckoned me over.

“ Sam Adams your final status determination date is today. You will come with me.”
,
Intrigued, I him went with outside and got on his black Harley motorbike and soon found myself in a crowded hallway way in a huge building – and I knew I was off planet somewhere and asked

“where the hell am I?

“Limbo land. Wait here, until your name is called.”

“ Sure. Whatever.”

Mr. Black grunted

“Gots to run, schedule to keep. Good luck, dude.”

I wandered about the hall teaming with people and creatures from all over the universe. Many had universal translation device witch watches which were for sale. I bought one and paid for it with US Dollars. They take all known currency but not credit cards. There were ATM’s everywhere, and personal computers and phones for sale as well.

There was a huge signboard which flashed names in multiple languages including English as there were quite a few Earth People milling around.
.:
The sign board also featured this warning

Welcome to Limbo. Wait your turn. Everything you ever said or did will be held against you. Abandon Hope all who enter here. Judgement is final and swift.

My name was called and I went up to the desk and addressed the Grim Reaper, Mr. GR as he liked to call himself.

The GR was a giant humanoid dressed in a black suit which matched his black features He wore cool sunglass, and was looking at a computer screen

The Grim Reaper looked up from the list.

Barked out,

“You name?”

“Sam Adams, Sir.”

“DOB? 10-29-1955”

“POB: Oakland, California”

“Hmm, there seems to be some sort of mistake. These things happen. Hard to get good tech support in Limbo. Well, they made a mistake. You are not due here for another five years. So I can send you back or you can wait here for your turn. What’s will it be?’

“Can I go back to my life?”

“yeah, but only for five years.

My advice to you is to get your act together, quit drinking your life away. Invest in biomedical tech stocks and do the right thing. Mary your girlfriend and make her happy. If you do these things you will avoid going downstairs. But what do I know? Then you will be back for judgement day. You all need to meet your creator on judgement day, that’s the date you learn your fate, whether it will be hell or heaven is not up to me to decide. Afraid that’ is beyond my pay grade, beyond my jurisdiction so to speak as I am just the grim reaper who is supposed to lead the dead on to their next life.

Are you ready to return?’

“Sure.”

I found myself back at home and went down the street and had another drink at the Cosmos Bar, I called my girlfriend up and proposed.

Then I looked at his phone and saw a note

Reminder, your final status adjudication date is set for five years. Make the most of your second chance, my friend.

Your friend,

GR.”

Just another Friday night in paradise he thought.

Jake Lee Wakes Up in Limbo

 

Jake Lee awoke from a night so painful it felt as if his nerves were auditioning for a horror film. Instead of his bedroom, he found himself standing in a forest that pulsed gently, like it was breathing in slow cosmic impatience. The trees were whispering legal disclaimers to each other.

A white dog sat before him, reading from a clipboard.

“Mr. Lee,” it said in a bored British accent, “please follow me. We’re terribly behind schedule.”

Jake followed because the alternative involved paperwork.

The forest collapsed into a road with the approximate stability of a dream half-remembered. Ahead stretched a meadow full of stone monuments that rearranged themselves whenever he blinked. They hummed with eerie blue energy and occasionally shouted “Processing…” at random intervals.

A man in black awaited him. His cloak seemed to lag half a second behind his movements, as if controlled by a separate, slightly lazier entity.

“Jake Lee,” the man said, checking a parchment that was visibly weeping ink. “Welcome to Limbo. You’ll be here for… well, longer than you’d like but shorter than eternity. Probably. Unless the system crashes again.”

“The system?”

“Yes. The Judgment Allocation and Soul Triage Environment. J.A.S.T.E. It’s been on the fritz since the Renaissance.”

Jake swallowed. “Is there heaven? Hell?”

The man shrugged in the manner of someone who had given this speech twelve billion times.

“There is and isn’t hell. There is and isn’t heaven. Everything is metaphorical except when it isn’t, and nothing is literal except on alternating Tuesdays. Reincarnation is available, but only in regions where properly licensed.”

Jake stared. “Are you the Grim Reaper?”

The man split momentarily into three versions of himself, each shrugging slightly out of sync.

“You may conceptualize me as such. Middle management. I manage incoming souls, complaints, and incorrectly filed existential crises.”

Jake tried another question. “Are you God?”

“Oh dear no,” the man said hurriedly. “God has staff.”

He pointed toward a building that spiraled upward, downward, inward, and sideways simultaneously. The architecture was arguing with itself.

“Right this way to Intake.”

The Waiting Room That Should Not Be

Inside, Limbo resembled a cosmic DMV run by entities who’d given up on hope millennia ago.

• Souls sat in infinite queues holding glowing tickets that read “Now Serving: Number Pi.”
  • A giant clock dripped minutes onto the floor, where small creatures lapped them up.
  • A clerk with three faces stamped documents, each face disagreeing with the others on whether the stamp was necessary.
  • Every once in a while, a voice boomed, “NEXT!” despite no one moving. Ever.

Jake sat on a chair that sighed deeply, as though exhausted by his weight and his life choices.

Time slithered.

Eventually, a demon wearing a corporate lanyard and a coffee-stained shirt approached. The badge read:

Assistant Case Manager
Transitional Oversight Division
(Please Do Not Feed)

“Jake Lee,” it croaked. “Come along. Your appointment with GR is scheduled for three hours ago.”

As they walked, the corridor folded back on itself, passing Jake and the demon several times. One of the passing versions of Jake looked like it regretted everything.

Jake’s Judgment

The demon ushered him into an office stacked with floating files that emitted faint screams when touched.

“Okay,” the demon said, flipping through a file that tried to crawl off the desk. “We’re sending you back.”

Jake blinked. “Back? Why?”

“You still have paperwork left unfinished in the mortal realm,” the demon said. “Also, your file got stuck in a celestial spam filter labeled ‘Possibly Edible.’ Long story.”

“How long do I have?”

“Approximately two Earth years until final judgment. Give or take some temporal anomalies.”

“My wife?”

“Oh yes, she’s slotted for around the same time. Very efficient processing. You’ll get a group rate.”

Jake inhaled sharply.

The demon continued, matter-of-factly:

“Your planet’s entering one of its transitional phases. Lots of collapse, chaos, very apocalyptic chic. Happens regularly. Entire civilizations erased like chalk marks on a chalkboard that forgot it was a chalkboard.”

It shrugged.

“Some cosmic entities think humanity is done for. Others think you might evolve into something noble and enlightened. The betting pool is quite lively.”

The file snapped shut.

“The universe is alive. Not metaphorically. In the literal, occasionally hungry sense. It dreams things into existence and loses interest halfway through.”

The demon looked at Jake.

“Are you prepared?”

Jake hesitated. “Can I… be free of my lifelong pain? For those two years?”

“Oh absolutely,” the demon said. “We turn suffering on and off all the time. It’s a checkbox.”

“Then yes,” Jake whispered. “I’m ready.”

“Splendid. Please hold my hand. Not too tight—we’ve had issues.”

Jake obeyed.

Departure

A doorway opened in midair, sideways, humming with the sound of misplaced paperwork.

“Good luck,” the demon said warmly. “Try not to knock the universe off-balance again. It’s still recovering from the time you sneezed in 1994.”

Jake stepped through as the waiting room behind him erupted into a chorus of:

“NOW SERVING: STILL NOT YOU!”

 

Sam Adams Wakes Up In Limbo

 

Sam Adams one night went drinking at his favorite drinking spot, the Cosmos Club in Bangkok, Thailand. He sat down with his buddies, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johny Walker, Old Grand-Dad, and Evans Williams. And began drinking his way to hell.

Twenty drinks too sober, he gets up to go home, walks out the door, and is run over by a bus.

He wakes up wondering “Where am I?”

He was in a large room filled with people milling around. He saw signs everywhere. ‘Welcome to Limbo. Your judgment day awaits you. Wait your turn. Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid. No one can escape your fate.”

Sometime later a demon comes over and gives him some breakfast – coffee hot as hell, fried eggs, and a burger. The demon hisses,

“Finish your breakfast. Then follow me to your appointment with Mr. GR”

He follows the demon through the crowd and found himself in an office. Mr. GR, the grim reaper wearing a dark zoot suit and cool ray bans barks out,

“Name?”

“Sam Adams”

GR looks up from his computer screen and says,

“hmm found you. You are in luck. You have been given a reprieve. Go back to earth but my advice to you is to quit drinking. That’s how you died last night. You are due back here in five years unless you keep drinking in which case you will see us sooner.”

Sam Adams found himself back home, looked at his sleeping girlfriend, Maria Lee, and told him what had happened. She said,

‘” well Mr. GR is right. The drinking will kill you. But what the hey and pulled out a bottle of Johny Walker and he had a hair of the dog and felt better.

The Mad Bus Ride to Hell  Hell Bus

I am in downtown Berkeley waiting to take a bus to my mother’s house I don’t have enough money for the bus fare $0.75 and then I looked in my wallet and coin purse and find out how I don’t have enough money and then I meet on the side of the road an  acquaintance who is a magician and I find that my $0.75 is now $0.35 and he had played a con game on me. I told him to to change the money back.

He does and gives me and I have $0.75 again again on the bus and the bus is not being driven by a human driver but is driven by a robot driver I put the money down and then I sit down

 

I realize that a bus is driving down a strange street . Everywhere I go is different, dark streets, and run down buildings with half human starving people wondering the road. I look around and everybody in the bus has been turned into hideous demons, ghouls and ghosts and

I look at myself and I find that I am now a ghostly figure myself.  The bus driver computer robot says welcome to the hell train next destination limbo.

Morning Train to Limbo Word Count: 998

One morning, Joe Lewis received a cryptic message on his cell phone. It read:

“Joe Lewis,

Your final status update is a week from tomorrow 6 a.m. in Limbo Station. To get to Limbo Station, please arrive at the Caltrans downtown SF station for a 4 a.m special train which will be marked ‘morning train.’ Note this is before the station normally opens at 5 a.m. It is a special train heading to Limbo, Hell, and Heaven destinations.

Since you have not yet had your status determination hearing, you will get off at the first destination, Limbo Station, and wait for your hearing. The train’s destination is Heaven Station, but most people get off at Limbo or Hell Station. Prepare an overnight bag. Tell no one where you are going. You may not be coming back so please put your affairs in order.

Present this case number to the demon functionary. The typical tip is 100 dollars, but they always demand more.

Joe Lewis
Human
Final status determination hearing 6 a.m. February,
Limbo Case number: jl551029577859620
Seat number: 76F”

Joe thought this was a weird joke but met with his lawyer to make sure his will was up to date. On the 9th, his phone rang at 3 a.m.

“Is this the human Joe Lewis?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Your Limbo Express Uber driver. I am outside. Please hurry. You cannot be late
for the train.”

Joe grabbed his go bag, muttered good night to his wife, and went outside, still convinced it was some sort of joke. The driver was dressed in black and had a pan-ethnic look that could be almost any nationality.

Joe attempted to ask him questions, but the driver pointed at a sign:

“No questions, please. All will be explained at the station. Make sure you have your notice which was sent to your phone with you.”

He got to the station and saw a large crowd milling around. He thought he knew who was going to Hell and who was going to Heaven. He saw an attendant, showed him his ticket, and paid him a tip.

The attendant snarled, “If you give me 500, I can get you on the Heaven Express.”

“Sorry, that’s all I got.”

He looked up at the next car, the Hell car, and saw lots of people who looked like they were celebrities. They were having a good time. The Heaven cabin was almost empty.

One of his cabin mates, Sandra, spoke up, “I would advise you not to go to the Hell car. Once you drink Hell liquor at the party, you may never return to Earth. They are all going to the other place. You do not want to go there, I assume.”

She pointed out the partygoers, who ignored Joe and the passengers in the Limbo and Heaven trains. Many of them were infamous figures, including anti-vaxxer crusaders, bar owners, celebrities, corrupt politicians of both American
parties, including governors, representatives, senators, drug dealers, members of the British parliament and parliaments around the world, criminals, crooked cops, fake ne gangbangers, gangsta rappers, internet bloggers, idiots in both high and low places, “criminal lawyers,” media darlings, pharma bros, scumbags, scoundrels, Wall Street executives, thugs, Italian, Korean, Japanese yakuza, and Vietnamese mafia figures.

“Have you been here before?”

“Yeah, I was given a reprieve and told to come back for another review. My name i

Sandra, by the way.”

“Joe Lewis.”

They chatted for a while, and the train took off. It soon entered a dark tunnel, went down a long, straight tunnel, and finally pulled into a train station. They got off the train and followed the crowds. There was a huge signboard that flashed names in multiple languages, including English, as there were quite a few Earth people milling around.

Some time later, a demon came over and gave them some breakfast—coffee hot as hell, fried eggs, and a burger. And decent coffee.

The demon hissed, “Finish your breakfast. Then follow me to your appointment with Mr. GR.”

He followed the demon through the crowd and found himself in an office where the Grim Reaper, a giant humanoid dressed in a black suit with a demonic pan-ethnic look, could be almost any nationality but looked vaguely alien. He wore cool sunglasses and was looking at a computer screen.

The Grim Reaper barked out, “Your name?”

“Joe Lewis.”

“DOB: 10-29-1955”

“POB: Oakland, California”

“Hmm, there seems to be some sort of computer mistake. Limbo is filled with bureaucrats and the red tape takes forever. The computer system is always crashing. What can you expect? Well, it is hard to get tech support in Heaven or Limbo; all the tech folks tend to go to Hell. You are not due here for another five years. I can send you back for five years. The next review is for real. My advice to you is to get your act together, quit drinking your life away. Invest in biomedical tech stocks, AI medical research stocks, and new body technology stocks—coming soon. And do the right thing. “But what do I know? Then you will be back for Judgment Day. You all need to meet your creator on Judgment Day. That’s the date you learn your fate. Whether it will be Hell or Heaven is not up to me to decide. Afraid that’s beyond my pay
grade, beyond my jurisdiction, as I am just the Grim Reaper who is supposed to lead the dead on to their next life.

“Are you ready to return?”

“Sure.”

Joseph Lewis woke up in bed next to his wife. He got up, turned on his computer, and read the following message:

“Mr. Joe, I hope you enjoyed your tour last night. We determined that it was not yet your time. Your friend, Sandra made it fine and sends her regards. The drinks are on her when you and your wife finally make it.

“Your friend,

Mr. GR the Grim Reaper.”

Poems

Halloween Nightmares

virus king cried

Sam Adams fell asleep
On Halloween night
The blood-red full moon woke him up.

He found himself
In a dark forest
And then saw them
Staring at him with evil hatred
Flowing from their red eyes.

Creatures out of his worst nightmares
Aliens, Banshees, demons, devils,
Ghouls, ghosts, orcs, leprechauns,
Imps, lions, monsters, tigers werewolves
Zombies.

Led by a half human, half pig creature
Who screamed.

“There he is after him
Death to Sam Adams “

.and they began chasing him
Through the dark forest
With the trees joining pursuit

He looked back
They were gaining on him
He saw a building lit up
And jump inside.

The door closed behind him
He was safe for now.

The Grim reaper looked up
Said,

“Sam Adams,
Relax, your time has not yet come.
I will send you home”

He woke up
From his Halloween nightmare
And ate some leftover candy
And had a glass of rum.

A message popped up

“Your status review
Is set for five years from now.

Have a nice life
Your friend

GR.”

Sam Adams Rides the Strange Horse

Sam Adams woke up one day in a strange vast forest
Filled with Bigfoot, banshees, demons, devils, dwarfs,
giants, leprechauns, monsters, orcs, space aliens, yeti, zombies.
A black horse made up of human skeletons,
Appeared, telling him to get on
He was the horse that drove people
To meet the grim reaper
it was his date to learn his fate.

 

Sam Adams Last Drink

He kept his New Year’s resolution
until the last day of the year.
Why was he giving it up now?

Sam Adams thought
Long and hard
Why was he back
In that infamous din
Of iniquity,

The Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy
In Bangkok
The city of Lost Angels?

He was about
To have his first drink
After being sober
For almost one year

His first resolution
Was to stop drinking

His second
Was to stop
Chasing woman.

His third
Was to lose
50 pounds.

He had kept
All three
Had not been laid
In almost a year.

He was so ready for a drink
And for sex.

He ordered a drink
From his favorite bartender
That half naked smiling Khun Lek

She said

“Hey Khun Sam
Where you’ve been
I missed you,
my lover toy boy..”

Sam explained
He had resolved
To quit booze
And sex for a year.

She laughed
“Well, if you are going off the wagon,
I can help you with that
And if you are going to resume sex,
I can help you with that, too.”

Sam began drinking heavily
Snorted cocaine
Smoke weed
Dropped acid..

He was about to go home
With Khun Lek
At dawn.

When he stepped outside
And was run over by a bus
Died on the spot.
The Grim reaper scratched
His name off his list.

The Leaves Crunched Beneath My Feet

The leaves crunched
Beneath my feet
As I walked the path
Through the world peace forest
Enjoying the autumn splendor

Thinking about life
And death
As I walked the path

The autumn colors
Reminding me
Of the coming of winter
And the end of things

Wondering yet again
Will this be
My last winter
On this earth?

With these somber thoughts
I walked slowly back
To the loving embrace
Of my wife

Who welcomed me
Back from my daily journey
Into the dark imaginings
Of a writer’s soul.

 

Time to Go

 

Time they say
Waits for no one
When it time
For us to go
Onto the other world

The grim reaper
Comes a knocking
on our door
At o dark hundred

Giving us time
To say goodbye
Before being summoned
To judgement day

Whether we will be sentenced to hell
Or ascend to heaven
Is not his call to make
Beyond his pay grade
He laughs

 

The Grim Reaper Gathers His Posse

cheating death

It was Halloween night
A night that all the denizens
Of hell loved
For on that night
All of hell would break put
They would celebrate their annual escape
For on Halloween they are allowed
To go to the surface sunlit lands
For a night of drinking,
Drugging and wilding
As bad craziness descends
Upon the land

The grim reaper and his posse
Dressed up as cosmic court jesters
Dressed as fools

They descended upon the world
And a night of chaos fell upon the land
Thousands died, as the Grim reaper
Added to his quota
Bonus kills were bonus points
He returned to hell with his minions
And the souls of the dead
Who soon became mere ghosts
Their voices crying in the wind
Echoing through time

 

Waiting for The Grim Reaper’s Embrace

 

The grim reaper is at his desk
In Hell HQ
Reviewing his weekly quotas
Preparing to send his agents
Back into the field

He is behind his quota
But thanks to COVID
Many more people
Are dying

Which was good
For the bottom line
He got paid
For delivering bodies
To Limbo

Where God and Satan
Sorted out
Who would go where?
He did not care

He got paid
To dispatch the dead bodies
To limbo

The more deaths
The more he got paid

He sent his agent
A naked skeleton figure
To the bed of his latest victim

He breathed
The kiss of death
Upon her sleeping form
And she came into his arms

He carried her off
On the back of the black horse
Of death
That his agents rode

The agents brought her
To Limbo
He checked her in
Told her the rules

Wait here in Limbo
for judgment
For today is the date
You learn your fate

 

Run Like Hell

  

Shaking, I grabbed her hand
and said…
“Run”

Run like hell”
Don’t look back
They are gaining on us.

They are after us
They are demons
Straight from hell

The hell hounds
Erupted out of space
Chasing us

Running after us
Screaming
Like escaped banshees

Led by the Grim Reaper
Who led his hell hounds
Tracking the couple down.

Reaching them
Dispatching them to hell
Where they met their judgment
For their sins.

None can escape
Their fate
On their judgment date,

Note: inspired by the K Drama Hellbound

 

Audio Poems clips

waiting in Limbo

grim reaper waits for us all

Grim Reaper Waiting to Make a Decision

the Grim Reaper Smiles

 

Rafting Towards Hell

Note: inspired by the K Drama Hellbound

 

Substack

Substack Podcast

Medium

Wattpad

Spotify Podcast