Life after death.

Stop this, Conor O’Malley, the monster said, gently. This is why I came walking, to tell you this so that you may heal. You must listen.

Conor swallowed again. “I’m listening.”

You do not write your life with words, the monster said. You write it with actions. What you think is not important. It is only important what you do.

There was a long silence as Conor re-caught his breath.

“So what do I do?” he finally asked.

You do what you did just now, the monster said. You speak the truth.

“That’s it?”

You think it is easy? The monster raised two enormous eye-brows. You were willing to die rather than speak it.

Conor looked down at his hands, finally unclenching them.
“Because what I thought was so wrong.”

It was not wrong, the monster said, It was only a thought, one of a million. It was not an action.

Conor let out a long, long breath, still thick.

But he wasn’t choking. The nightmare wasn’t filling him up, squeezing his chest, dragging him down.

In fact, he didn’t feel the nightmare there at all.

From 'A Monster Calls' by Patrick Ness