Monuments

A Man Died today. He was a man like most men. He worked all of his life to feed and clothe himself and those he loved. But here, he needed none of that, now that he walked the land of the dead. In life, he was an architect; he built from stone and wood, he eschewed metal and glass but instead attempted to craft from nature what nature could not. It was only to his little surprise when he awoke in a cluster of buildings; the shock faded as the man realized that this was exactly where he belonged, ‘in fact’ he told himself, ‘ this is exactly what should be waiting for me in this land of twilight.’
This, of course, was the madness of the dead; nothing should be; it just is. As he looked around, he greeted things of his life, those things he had spoiled and ruined, those things that he had sent to their own deaths.
On one side of the cluster, he found a decrepit apartment building; it was torn down to make way for a park. In another area, he found the ramshackled Victorian that he leveled so the owner could add another wing onto his McMansion.
Further on, he found a cluster of low flat storage sheds his company had lost in a fire when he and his secretary had been caught in a dalliance; the fire had distracted both of their spouses.
All of the things he had destroyed were here, his companions for eternity.

A woman died today. She was a good woman but still human. All her life, she had been a creator, making and remaking. She was a writer of stories.