In this post I step into a fictional near‑death experience where the victim watches the killer move through a crowd of three hundred, blend in, and slip away. I recount the approach, the process, and the aftermath from the viewpoint of someone who already knows the crash is coming. Because in that moment — when you’re suspended between the body and the abyss — you see more than death.
It’s travel time. And I bring you along.
A Murder Victim’s Near-Death Experience
I knew a person who claimed he could examine the eyes of a murder victim and see the person who killed them. (True story. False claim.)
Imagine if the claim proved true. What did the victim see?
Here’s an example. (Not a true story.)
A near-death-experience has advantages for a murder victim like me. I saw the killer thread through a diverse crowd of three hundred before she blended in the mass of hot flesh and lavish table settings for several seconds and reappeared thirty feet to my right. The next thing I knew, someone in the back corner yelled, “Bomb!”
When someone shouts “bomb” amidst a crowd of people in a restaurant on the fiftieth floor of a luxury hotel, it is not conducive to a favorable outcome. It mattered not how much damage the explosive device might inflict with the volume of silverware lying on tables about to become flesh-penetrating projectiles. Chaos erupted in what looked like a fire drill in a sanitorium dining hall.
This murdered state certainly enlightened me.
A victim of murder goes through three phases—the approach, the process, and the aftermath—neither of which appeals to the person on the wrong end of the ordeal. Like me. If anyone affronts another with the notion that consciousness ceases when a person dies, they’re nuts. I saw it coming. In the realm of anticipatory pain and suffering, the agony and anguish instilled in me by my killer’s approach ranked near the experience of suffering the injuries inflicted on me.
It’s not as if any salvageable parts existed for procurement and transplant into another person, which might allow a semblance of life. I’m a goner. Adios. It’s travel time. I cannot describe the injuries inflicted on me and must rely on a forensic examiner. I hope whoever conducts the procedure will do it with the accuracy necessary to solve my case. Otherwise, justice might as well have met its demise along with me. Thank goodness nothing perforated my body and exited my hind side or I might’ve drawn unnecessary attention when I passed gas in two-part harmony.
The encounter was much like a vehicle crash. Perception and reaction time of one and a half seconds added to 180 milliseconds passed in a flash compared to the mind’s response. When people claim their life flashed before their eyes, should they not have said past life?
My body acted the part of a vehicle destroyed in the crash while my soul and spirit survived, exited, and surveyed the damage. Not looking too good.
Trapped in a near-death-experience like this one has its advantages, don’t you think? If only I could tell someone about it. Oh, wait. Experts will speak for me. These experts include police officers, detectives, crime scene technicians, forensic investigators and medical examiners.
I hope they know what they are doing.
Back to reality. For fiction, this is imagined reality.
Readers identify the experts in the world of true crime and fiction as authors. Authors must become the ultimate authority on their stories. Readers require them to know what they are doing to present a credible story. This includes authentic crime scenes, incidents resulting in death, the fact-finding process, and prosecution.
Enough talk. Let’s get to it.
Come with me and I’ll share my show-and-tell presentation of how authors kill their characters. Here is the link: https://geniusbookpublishing.com/products/kill-your-characters
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Scary stuff - terrifying! A good read!