Monday, October 27, 2014

Write a Story Day: Long Day Ahead

I've been told that it's Write a Story Day. So in honor of that, here we go.

Long Day Ahead
by Anna Maria Junus

“Where am I?”

“Dead.” The woman in the blue dress said. “Follow me.” She turned, clipboard in hand and walked away.

“Hold it!” I ran up to her. “What do you mean, dead?”

She stopped and sighed. “I mean dead. As in no longer living on earth. You’re dead. Toasted. Kaput.”

I stared around at me. It wasn’t some ethereal place with white clouds. It looked like a garden. “How can I be dead?”

“It happens when you’re heart stops beating. You die.”

“What are you talking about? I was just at a party. I was talking to Chris Wiseman. He was hitting on me and…”

“You know those pills you took at that party? It can do that to you. Kill you.”

“But, I’d never done anything like that before. How can I be dead?”

“It only takes once. For you it just happened to be the first time. It could have been worse. You could have lived through it, become addicted, robbed from your parents, sold your body on the street and then eventually died, an old woman at 23, alone in a gutter. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky! I’m dead.”

“There are worse things. Dead around here simply means you don’t live down there anymore. Think of it as a change of residence.”

“But was it my time?”

“No. But you made it your time. It happens. Plans are made for you, but you can change them, or someone else can.”

“But it’s not fair! I’m not ready to die! I haven’t lived yet! I'm only sixteen!”

“Honey, don’t talk to me about fair. You got sent to a place where you lived in a nice house and had parents who love you, and you went to a good school. You had food on the table and nice clothes. You got it better than most. You could have had more, but…like I said, plans change. Now follow me.”

“But, where is the white light and the loving arms that are supposed to enfold me?”

“Sweetie, you’re loved. But the ones who’s arms your waiting for, well, they’ve got others who didn’t go and do something stupid to themselves. That’s who they’re greeting right now. The ones who tried. The ones who made the most of their time on earth. The ones who didn’t get fair in the first place. You’ll have your turn, but you have to wait. In the meantime, follow me.” She turned away from me and walked several feet down the path, her high heels, that perfectly matched the flowing blue dress, clicked against the stones.

“Follow you where?” I said running to keep up.

“To your job.”

“My job? But, don’t I get to rest, or play a harp or something?”

“Can you play the harp?”

“Well, no.”

“Well, until you can, we can’t use you as a harp player, now can we?”

“Do I get wings?”

She snorted. “Wings? What do you think you are? A bird?”

“I thought I was an angel.”

“You are, sweetie. You are. Now come on, spit, spot. There’s work to be done.”

“Do I get a lunch break?”

She ignored me and kept walking. I tried to keep up.

This was going to be a long day.