《Psychopomp and Circumstances》


 Chapter 1: A Liminal Space

    They say the first time you die is the worst; by the second time you might even be looking forward to it. I¡¯m not quite there yet, but I am starting to understand the sentiment.


    I could begin by explaining how I died. But the truth is, I didn¡¯t remember, not in the beginning. Apparently, that is common, much like how no one remembers being born. So, instead I¡¯ll start with the first thing I do remember from after my death: Henry. He was a tall, gaunt, middle-aged looking man with salt and pepper hair and a bushy moustache to match. He wore a bowler hat and a tweed jacket that made it look like he had stepped out of some old detective movie. He seemed to simply materialize out of the thick, grey fog that surrounded me, and strolled over in a way that was jarringly casual. He looked me up and down, almost dismissively, then reached out a hand.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this over with,¡± he sighed.


    ¡°Get what over with? Who are you? Where are we?¡± I asked, the disorientation making it hard for me to even properly articulate my questions. I knew there was more I should be saying, but it wouldn¡¯t come to me.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Then again, what does?¡± he gave a little, humorless chuckle. ¡°Just give me your hand and you can get moving on to the next place. Don¡¯t worry about here, you won¡¯t be staying long.¡±


    ¡°What does that even mean?¡±


    This time, he ignored my question and simply grabbed my hand. For an instant, I was struck by the lack of sensation. I could tell he was touching me, but even now I wouldn¡¯t be able to explain how I knew. It wasn¡¯t like the touch you are probably familiar with, where you feel the heat of the hand and pressure of it against your skin. This was¡­ flavorless, if that makes any sense. Like how plain gelatin is somewhat recognizable as food, but all the important parts are missing.


    I tried to pull my hand away, to get some distance from this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me, but he held firm and met my gaze.


    ¡°Think about the worst thing you have ever done,¡± he instructed.


    Nothing about that sentence was comforting. I certainly didn¡¯t want to obey. But it turned out I didn¡¯t really get a say in the matter.


    The flood of memories was instant and overwhelming. Everything I had ever done that I felt guilty about or regretted in any way rushed into my mind, unbidden. Hundreds, thousands of petty, insubstantial slights and failures flowing out of me like a dark river and into the stranger¡¯s hand. When I knocked over Lucy Cole¡¯s sandcastle in first grade because I was jealous of her new bicycle, when I broke up with my high school boyfriend, the first time I snuck out to attend a college party. I could feel the darker memories, the heavier ones, looming underneath, trying to rise to the surface of my mind. I recoiled from them, dreading having to relive them too, but before that could happen, something suddenly seemed to change. The man¡¯s hands dropped from mine and he collapsed to his knees, coughing violently. Oily black liquid spilled from his throat, splattering on my legs and shoes, until he was kneeling in an ever-expanding pool of dark ichor. Instinctively, I backed away, further from the fluid that now seemed to seep from every orifice of the stranger. He slowly grew smaller and smaller, his form dissolving into the small lake of darkness beneath him. Just before his mouth dipped below the surface, I heard him gasp,


    ¡°Finally.¡±


    Then he was gone. I stood, dumbfounded, looking down at the perfectly still, dark water. It reflected no light. Then again, there wasn¡¯t any obvious light for it to reflect, was there? Not that it was dark where I was, it¡¯s just that there was no obvious source of light. Tentatively, I reached my hand down towards the surface, extending a finger out to touch the liquid, but at the last moment, I thought better of it and pulled back, edging away from the pool.


    ¡°Probably for the best.¡±


    I jumped at the sound of the voice behind me, and spun, half expecting to find the man with the moustache standing there, having performed some sort of elaborate, revolting magic trick. But this was someone new, shorter and stockier with sandy hair and a crooked, sarcastic smile. He raised one hand and beckoned me closer,


    ¡°I would move a bit faster, if I were you. We probably don¡¯t have too long.¡±


    ¡°Too long before what?¡± I was getting frustrated, could no one in this place explain anything?


    ¡°Before¡­¡±


    Sandy-hair was interrupted when the black pool seemed to explode outward as an enormous, formless mass burst from the liquid. Its shape was impossible to describe, and it undulated like the wax globs in a lava lamp. The color shifted through shades of black, grey and silver, rippling like a greasy cloud. I don¡¯t know how, but I could sense it studying me, a fathomless hunger emanating from it. The more I watched it, the more I felt those dark thoughts stir in the depths of my mind. A need for something I didn¡¯t understand and perhaps had never experienced filled me. I stared, transfixed, for a moment before I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a voice in my ear,


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at it too closely,¡± he whispered. ¡°Just turn and walk slowly away. We don¡¯t have what it wants. And it has nothing to offer us, either.¡±


    That really only raised more questions, but this time I decided it was best to keep them to myself. Forcing my gaze away, I followed the stranger further into the fog, until the pond and the beast were lost from sight. It did not follow, or even make a sound as we retreated. But the hunger remained. Palpable in the air.


    After we walked a short distance on the curiously flat and featureless terrain, Sandy-hair stopped and sat cross-legged on the ground, gesturing for me to do the same.


    ¡°So, I imagine you have questions?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What in the hell was that?¡± I blurted.


    ¡°Close enough, I suppose, depending on your theological leanings,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Do you believe in hell?¡±


    ¡°Is that where we are?¡±


    It certainly didn¡¯t look like any place on earth I¡¯d ever seen.


    ¡°Probably not. This is a¡­ liminal space. It¡¯s where the dead go, before they travel to the next place. Whatever that may be.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°So, I am dead.¡±


    ¡°Yup. And before you ask, I don¡¯t know how it happened either. It might come back to you, with time, but it might not. I¡¯d recommend not dwelling on it.¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to do that?!¡±


    ¡°Try focusing on other things, for the moment.¡±


    I almost demanded to know what could be more pressing than my death, before I remembered that I truly did have many urgent questions, so I decided to circle back to the issue of how I had ended up dead, later.


    ¡°Ok, who are you?¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± he snorted.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just most people need more convincing than that, is all,¡± he shrugged again. ¡°Either way, name¡¯s Finn and I am a¡­ let¡¯s go with psychopomp. I¡¯ve always liked that term the best.¡±


    ¡°You guide the dead? So, you are here to guide me to the afterlife?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I would have been, but you missed that particular boat, unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure I liked where this was going.


    ¡°It is your bad luck that Henry got to you first. He was a nice guy, but you were apparently his final client,¡± seeing my visible confusion, Finn continued. ¡°See, I like the term psychopomp, but it doesn''t capture all that we do. We are also¡­ sin eaters, I suppose you could say. I¡¯ll give you the simple version for now. Basically, no one makes it to the other side if they have sin weighing on their soul, and it turns out that everyone has sin weighing on their soul. So, a solution needed to be found. At some point, long before I arrived here, the people trapped in this place made an agreement. One person would take on the sin for everyone else, so that the rest could pass on to the next place. They drew lots and the man that drew the short straw became the first sin eater. We are his descendants, so to speak, in the sense that we serve the same function, taking the sins from the dead and allowing them to pass on. You understand?¡±


    I remembered the feeling of all my darkest thoughts and memories being drawn from me, drawn into him. Somehow, I did understand.


    ¡°So, the man¡­ Henry, he came to me to consume my sin and let me pass on to¡­ heaven?¡±


    Finn shrugged, a gesture I was beginning to realize he used frequently,


    ¡°Maybe, who knows? I can¡¯t say what¡¯s next, and I will never see it myself. Either way, yes, Henry was supposed to consume your sins. But every sin eater has a limit. When we reach it, well, you saw.¡±


    ¡°I did, but¡­¡± I hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand. Did that¡­ thing consume him? Why didn¡¯t it take us, too?¡±


    ¡°Well, to answer your questions in order: it did, in a manner of speaking; and it will, eventually,¡± Finn considered his next words carefully. ¡°We call them demons, because it seems like as good a name as any, and each of us will become one, someday. A being of pure appetite and desire, it seeks only to consume more sin.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a good thing? Why can¡¯t I just let it, so I can move on?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it doesn¡¯t quite work that way. That¡¯s like asking why you can¡¯t dry your hair with a towel you just fished out of a lake. A demon is a bubbling mass of sin. It wants to consume, but in practice it only taints the things it touches further.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ should we maybe be moving farther away from it?¡±


    ¡°Nah. As I said, it doesn¡¯t want anything from us. It wants to consume sin, and it can¡¯t get any from a sin eater, so it doesn¡¯t really pay us much mind. You don¡¯t want to stay too close to it, as that can have some unpleasant side effects, but otherwise we don¡¯t need to worry too much.¡±


    ¡°Wait, us? But I¡¯m not¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, about that. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but welcome to the team,¡± he offered a sympathetic half-smile.


    ¡°What? Why me? I never agreed to this!¡± I jumped to my feet.


    ¡°No one does. It is and has always been a luck of the draw sort of thing. The first pulled the short straw, now we get chosen by whoever happens to come in contact with a demon. Usually that means either being the last client of a ¡®dying¡¯ psychopomp, like you, or being found by a demon before a psychopomp can even reach you. As I said, the touch of a demon taints things, and it is permanent. So, sadly, you can no longer be cleansed. Not by me, not by anyone. You can take sin in, but you cannot rid yourself of it. Which means that you can¡¯t leave. Ever. And since you are now stuck here, you get to be one of us. Hurray.¡±


    ¡°Fuck that! I am not staying here forever.¡±


    ¡°Well no, not forever. Just until you eventually become a demon.¡±


    ¡°No. No. That isn¡¯t fair. Can¡¯t you just do what you do and let me leave?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, wish I could. But once you have touched a demon, there is nothing anyone can do. Trust me, I have personal experience in the matter. You get used to it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to get used to it!¡±


    ¡°None of us did, really. But that¡¯s life. Death? Whatever.¡±


    ¡°Well, I refuse,¡± I spat. ¡°How about that? I won¡¯t do this job and you can¡¯t force me. I won¡¯t guide the dead; I won¡¯t eat their sins. I refuse!¡±


    Finn shrugged again, slowly rising from the ground,


    ¡°Well, I see that we have reached the end of the productive portion of this conversation, for now. Perhaps I will see you again later, when you feel up to continuing.¡±


    He turned and began to saunter away.


    ¡°What? No, don¡¯t go!¡± I chased after him.


    ¡°Look, you really are complaining to the wrong person. I am not in charge here, I don¡¯t make any of these decisions. More importantly, I don¡¯t have the energy or the inclination to argue with you. Better to let you wear yourself out, first.¡±


    ¡°So, it doesn¡¯t bother you, that I won¡¯t do this stupid job?¡±


    ¡°No, why would it? I don¡¯t really care what you do and no one else is going to force you, either. It¡¯s probably better for us if you don¡¯t do it, honestly. Less competition. But, trust me, you will do it. Eventually.¡±


    ¡°Why would I? Why do any of you? This is ridiculous!¡±


    ¡°As I said, I am not having this argument. You will figure it out for yourself. Maybe then we¡¯ll talk again, when you are ready to hear more. I¡¯ll see you around, kid.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just leave me here!¡±


    ¡°Why not? What¡¯s the worst that can happen? You¡¯re already dead.¡±


    Then he melted into the fog. I tried to follow, but it was as if he had simply vanished. I was completely alone. I stared out into the featureless fog for a long time, trying to decide what I was supposed to do next. For lack of any better ideas, I just started walking in the opposite direction from where I had last seen the demon.

 Chapter 2: Homecoming

    It felt like I walked for a long time that day, but I really can¡¯t say for sure, even now. There was no way to gauge time, because nothing ever changed. The ground was an unblemished grey that seemed to blend with the fog; the sun, if there was one, didn¡¯t seem to move in the sky, and it never got lighter or darker. Most curiously, the walking seemed to have no effect on me, either. It took a while, but in time I noticed that I simply wasn¡¯t getting tired. I tried walking faster, but it didn¡¯t change anything. I never got hungry, or thirsty, or needed to rest. I just walked. It could have been for hours or for days, for all the difference it made. Eventually, I decided that wandering without a destination was getting me nowhere. I needed to try something else. But what were dead people supposed to do, anyway? That thought finally reminded me that I still didn¡¯t even know why I was dead. That seemed like a good place to start. Could I figure out how I died, and why? Maybe that would resolve my¡­ unfinished business and let me move on? That was how it worked in the movies. I figured that was as good a guide as any, because really, I had no reason to believe Finn, did I? I didn¡¯t even know him. Why should I take his word that I was simply stuck here forever? No, I needed to figure things out for myself.


    I decided that the logical first step would be to see if I could find my way back to the last place I remembered being when I was alive and retrace my steps from there. So, the only question was how to get there from here. I thought back. I had been at my apartment building. Closing my eyes, I could clearly see myself parking in the back lot that afternoon and walking towards the building¡­ And that was when I suddenly walked into something solid. My face bounced firmly off the surface, and I was already rubbing my forehead before I realized that it didn¡¯t hurt. Which made sense, I supposed. I dropped my hands and took a couple of steps back, to see that I had walked into the side wall of my apartment building. The fog had dissipated somewhat, though the color of the world was still less¡­ saturated than I remembered it being. Still, that seemed like progress, somehow. Maybe from here I could retrace my steps and figure out what happened to me. I pressed my hand into the brickwork. It seemed solid enough. So, it didn¡¯t seem like I would be walking through any walls. That was disappointing. Being dead was supposed to have some advantages. Lacking other options, I decided to just try the door.


    The front door of my apartment building, well my former apartment building I supposed, was painted a vivid blue that stood out despite the relative pallor of the rest of my surroundings. As I approached it, I remembered walking this same path on my last day. I glanced back, looking at the spot where I had parked my car. It was still there, parked under the light post. I knew I¡¯d left my lunch bag on the passenger seat, and my used dishes were going to get all moldy, now. For some reason, that really bothered me, even though it was too late to do anything about it, and by all rights it shouldn¡¯t even matter. What if that was my unfinished business? Could it be something that stupid? I truly hoped not. That would be embarrassing. Shaking my head, I resumed my walk towards the door. Normally, I would need a key to enter, but I didn¡¯t seem to have one on me, just now. I supposed I could wait to see if anyone entered or left, but I decided to try pulling on the door, just to see what happened. As my hand touched the knob, though, it passed right through. Huh. Apparently, I could pass through doors, but not walls? I would have to experiment more with that. Later. I stepped through the door and began climbing the stairs to my unit. As I climbed, I remembered that I had returned early that day. The power had gone out at work, and we had all been sent home almost two hours before my usual quitting time. The last time I had walked up these stairs, I had been excited to spend a rare free evening with my fianc¨¦, for once. What could have happened?


    Reaching my unit I paused at the door, hearing the faint sounds of sobbing from inside. The thought suddenly occurred to me that he would be in there. Cameron. I would see him if I went in, and I realized that I wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about that. I should miss him, I supposed, be upset that I was dead and couldn¡¯t be with him. But I mostly felt nothing. Odd. Perhaps that was a side effect of being dead. I steeled myself and stepped through the door. Cameron was sitting on our living room couch, wearing the sweater I had bought him for our last anniversary. He was sobbing into his hands. For a moment, I felt a brief flicker of sadness and regret. We had been together since college; our wedding was supposed to be in 4 months. However I had died, he was clearly broken up about it. I took an unconscious step forward and reached a hand towards his shoulder, but I froze in my tracks when a woman emerged from the kitchen, carrying a mug of tea. She sat down next to Cameron on the couch, rubbing his back gently and making soothing noises. I didn¡¯t know her name, but I realized with a start that I did know this woman. Not well, I had only met her once, the last time I¡¯d entered this apartment. When I had walked in early to find my fianc¨¦ on the couch with her, in a similar situation. Of course, he hadn¡¯t been wearing the sweater, then. In fact, he hadn¡¯t been wearing anything at all. Which must have been the dress code, because neither had she. Anger flared briefly in my chest. I remembered. The bastard had been cheating on me. And now his mistress was here, in my apartment? Was this why I had died? Had they killed me?


    ¡°You know you didn¡¯t do anything wrong,¡± the woman cooed in his ear.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I moved closer to listen to hear them better, their voices seemed muffled and hazy, as if coming from far away.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh come on, she probably just needs a bit of space right now. She¡¯ll resurface when she thinks she has punished you enough. Frankly, it would be better if she just stayed gone,¡± she continued. ¡°Then we can finally be together, without all the drama.¡±


    He pushed her away and stood abruptly.


    ¡°For god¡¯s sake, Leanne, I just got back from the police station. They think I killed her!¡±


    ¡°So what? You know you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You think that matters? Also, what if something really has happened to her? Won''t it seem a little inappropriate for us to be¡­¡±


    ¡°You were fine cheating on her when she was alive. It isn¡¯t worse if she¡¯s dead.¡±


    She had a point, I conceded.


    ¡°Look, if I had really wanted to be with you, I would have broken up with Mara in the first place. You were only ever for fun. It never meant anything to me.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. I had run out of the apartment pretty quickly the night I had found them together, but I remembered him yelling something similar after me. I didn¡¯t care then, and I cared even less now. The fact that it meant nothing sort of made things worse, honestly. It just meant that he had betrayed me for nothing. For fun. I couldn¡¯t believe I had wasted my life, literally as it turned out, on this asshole. Amazing. Leanne seemed to agree, because she slapped him,


    ¡°Just fun? That isn¡¯t what you¡¯ve been telling me for the last 8 months.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, so what?¡± Cameron rubbed his cheek. ¡°What did you expect? You knew I was engaged.¡±


    ¡°Really? Is that what you are going to hide behind?¡± her voice pitched up. ¡°Like you didn¡¯t pursue me? Like you didn¡¯t whine to me every day at work about how terribly she treated you? About how you would break up as soon as you could ¡®untangle¡¯ yourself financially?¡±


    ¡°And you believed that?¡± he snorted incredulously. ¡°I kind of thought we were both just¡­ choosing to roleplay a convenient fiction.¡±


    I heard the mug shatter against a wall, but I had already turned away. I had hoped they would discuss my death, but it seemed that they didn¡¯t even know I was dead. It sounded as if they simply thought I was missing. Which meant that there was nothing more for me to learn here. And it surprised me to realize that, outside of that, I didn¡¯t have any interest in either of them. I honestly thought I would care more about my fianc¨¦ and his mistress, but even the brief flash of anger hadn¡¯t lasted long, and I found no satisfaction in their bickering. I remembered being distraught when I found out Cameron was cheating. I remembered hating Leanne. And that couldn¡¯t have been very long ago. But now, I didn¡¯t feel much towards him but a vague contempt. Maybe being dead put things like that into perspective. I didn¡¯t know. All I knew was that they couldn¡¯t help me. So, I would just have to keep following my own path from that night and hoping it would jog my memory further.


    After I found them together, I had run out of the apartment; Cameron had chased after me, but he hadn¡¯t followed very far, probably because he wasn¡¯t wearing any clothes, just a blanket from the back of the couch. I walked out to the street and retraced my steps from that night, out into the city. I had wandered for hours, before I had realized that it was getting late, and cold, and I couldn¡¯t stay out there all night. But I also knew I couldn¡¯t go back to our apartment. In that moment, I hadn¡¯t thought I could ever go back there again. Apparently, I had been right, unless my ghostly visit just now counted, which I decided it did not. I had left my car keys on the side table by the door when I ran out, which explained why my car was still in the lot. So, where had I gone? I stood on the street corner, looking up at the traffic lights, the same as I had that night, hoping for inspiration, but nothing jumped out at me. The streets were empty this time of night, not that anyone else seemed to be able to see me or interact with me, even if they were around. I didn¡¯t belong here. I was just a visitor, looking at the tableau of life through a hazy window. Unable to touch it.


    I sat down on the curb and tilted my head back to look at the stars. I could hardly see them through the mist that seemed to follow me everywhere. It thinned and thickened, but it never fully dissipated. At that moment, it closed in around me, leaving me isolated in a tiny island of clarity. I sighed. What was the point? Did how I die even matter? My life was, apparently, a joke. My fianc¨¦ didn¡¯t even care that I might be dead, only that he could be blamed for it. Did anyone care? I felt very tired, suddenly. Not physically, I seemed to lack any physical needs. But maybe that was part of the problem, now that I thought about it. No thirst, no need to sleep, no hunger. Why even bother doing anything? What was there to motivate someone to even get up off the curb? It wasn¡¯t like anything I could do would change my situation. And nothing seemed to be able to make me happy, or sad, or even angry, anymore. At least, not for more than an instant. Maybe the best thing to do would be to sit here and just wait to become a demon. Nothing else really seemed worth the trouble. So, for an indeterminate amount of time, that is what I did. The sun rose and set, people walked across the sidewalks and through my silent form on the curb. At one point, a taxi door even opened through me. But I didn¡¯t move. I just couldn''t summon the will to even bother.


    I had resigned myself to this being my afterlife forever, until suddenly I smelled something. Well, smell wasn¡¯t precisely the right word, but I don¡¯t think there is an equivalent that a living person would understand. I use smell because it awakened a hunger in me, one I had never felt before the moment I set eyes on that demon. I didn¡¯t know what it was, exactly, but for the first time in however long it had been since I sat down, I wanted something badly enough to get up and go after it. So, rising from the ground, I set off in search of the enticing aroma.

 Chapter 3: The First Time

    I traversed several city blocks before I realized I had lost my surroundings again and was back in the grey, featureless space where I had begun my death. At first, I worried that would make tracking the scent harder, but I didn¡¯t seem to have any trouble. It was as if everything else simply melted into the background and only the destination I was focused on mattered. After searching for a short time through the mist, I finally saw a shape materialize in the distance. It started off as just a blurry form, but as I drew closer, I realized that it was a man standing alone and blinking uncertainly at his surroundings. I paused to study him. Nothing about his appearance was especially remarkable. He was older, average height, with greying hair and a rumpled suit. And he was definitely the source of the interesting smell. For a moment I considered the possibility that it might be a cologne of some kind, but that didn¡¯t fit.  As I said, smell didn¡¯t even properly describe the sensation. Still, whatever it was, it was coming from him. Curious, I walked closer and as I drew near, he called out to me,


    ¡°Hello, um, excuse me, do you know where I am? I seem to be a bit lost. I can¡¯t really see anything in this fog.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, warily.


    ¡°Connor,¡± he reached out a hand. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°Mara,¡± I almost took his hand, but hesitated. ¡°Do you know how you got here?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I can¡¯t seem to remember¡­¡± he trailed off, looking out into the fog. ¡°In fact, I shouldn¡¯t be outside at all. I am not supposed to be out of bed; I haven¡¯t been able to walk more than a few steps in months. Though, strangely, I am actually feeling fine, right now.¡±


    He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then took a deep breath. I swallowed hard. I didn¡¯t really want to be the one to break this news, but could I really just leave him standing here like this? It seemed so cruel.


    ¡°In fact,¡± he continued. ¡°I can even breathe without coughing. It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve been able to take a full breath, I had almost forgotten what it was like.¡±


    He took another gulp of air,


    ¡°It¡¯s incredible! Ever since the cancer, I haven¡¯t¡­¡±


    He kept talking, but I couldn¡¯t keep listening. I had to say something before he got any more excited about being ¡®cured¡¯. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to go about broaching that topic, delicately. So, instead, I just sort of blurted it out,


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Connor, but I am pretty sure you are dead.¡±


    He paused, turning to face me,


    ¡°What? That¡¯s crazy. Why would you say that?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m dead too,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°No. No, that¡¯s impossible. My wife she¡¯s¡­ my daughter is getting married in 2 weeks. I can¡¯t be¡­¡± he frowned deeply. ¡°It doesn¡¯t even make sense. You saw me breathing, just now. If I was dead, why would I need to breathe?¡±


    I sighed. Finn had said most people weren¡¯t so accepting. And it was a good question, I had wondered that myself, in the beginning, but it wasn¡¯t a terribly difficult trick to figure out.


    ¡°What happens if you stop?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Stop breathing. What happens?¡±


    Connor paused, hesitating for a moment before he took an exaggerated breath, puffed out his cheeks and made a show of holding it. I watched his face as seconds passed, then minutes and he slowly learned the obvious: we didn¡¯t need to breathe, or blink or do anything else the living did, we simply continued making a show of it, out of force of habit. Connor¡¯s eyes widened with each passing second until finally his shoulders slumped and he opened his mouth again.


    ¡°But¡­ but I can¡¯t be dead. Not now,¡± he sat down heavily on the ground and dropped his face into his hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I knew I had already said that, but what else was there to say?


    ¡°What do I do now?¡± he asked.


    I wasn¡¯t sure why he thought I would have an answer to that question. I sat down next to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m kind of new to this, myself,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he turned back to look at me with new eyes. ¡°I kind of thought you were¡­ you know, the grim reaper or something.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I replied. He didn¡¯t need to know I had been offered the job but turned it down. ¡°I¡¯m actually recently dead, myself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. I just don¡¯t know how this could have happened. My prognosis was good, things were improving¡­ But I guess anything can happen. Fucking cancer. You want to know the worst part?¡± he turned to me.  There were so many more things I wanted to do, before I died. So many things I wanted to see. I wanted to walk my daughters down the aisle. I wanted to meet my grandchildren. My wife and I, we had so many plans for our retirement. I can¡¯t believe that none of it is going to happen, now. It seems so unfair.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I nodded. Connor paused, studying my face,


    ¡°But, perhaps I shouldn¡¯t be complaining. I had a good life, with people who loved me. And when they eventually die, after a hopefully long and happy life, I will get to see them all again. You look¡­ so young.¡±


    ¡°Not that young. I¡¯m 27,¡± I corrected.


    ¡°27?¡± he laughed. ¡°That is very young. About my youngest daughter¡¯s age, in fact. I¡¯m sorry you never got a chance to see more of life. Were you sick?¡±


    ¡°Me? No. My health was fine. Until it very abruptly wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Then how did it happen?¡± he asked. ¡°Or is it rude to ask that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied. ¡°On either count.¡±


    ¡°Really? How can you not know how you died?¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    He thought for a moment,


    ¡°I guess not. Huh. I assumed it must be my illness, that I died in my sleep or something.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense. Nothing in my life was so¡­ obvious. I worked a boring, dead-end job, didn¡¯t do anything risky, didn¡¯t really have any enemies. My shitty fianc¨¦ was cheating on me, but I am pretty sure he didn¡¯t do it. I suppose¡­¡±


    I felt it before I saw it. The hunger. The demon materialized out of the fog, its undulating body gliding hypnotically across the featureless landscape. Somehow, I could tell that it was focused on Connor, moving slowly but inexorably towards him. What was it doing here? I realized after a moment that it must have been drawn to him, the same way I had. It had come to claim him. I jumped to my feet,


    ¡°Ok, Connor, I think we should move.¡±


    The older man caught sight of the demon, and his eyes widened.


    ¡°What is that?¡± he gasped.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at it, let¡¯s just walk this way.¡±


    I led the way deeper into the fog, trying to lose the demon like I had last time, with Finn. But this time, it followed, trailing us, gaining just a little bit with each step. Finn had been right, we had had nothing to worry about from the demon, but Connor was another story. It was drawn to him, to his scent, to his sin. And if it closed the distance, if it touched him, he would be damned. Just like me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go a little faster,¡± I advised, picking up the pace.


    We wouldn¡¯t get tired; we could run for as long as it took to lose the creature. Except that we weren¡¯t losing it. Every time we sped up, so did it, matching our pace effortlessly. It didn¡¯t seem to be in any particular hurry, but there also didn¡¯t seem to be any way to escape it. It was close enough now that I could hear the wet rippling of its body as it vibrated behind us.


    ¡°What does it want?¡± Connor asked, fear in his voice.


    ¡°You,¡± I replied.


    ¡°So, what do we do?¡±


    I didn¡¯t reply right away. I had a suspicion about what I was supposed to do. But I had refused, still refused to do that. Like I had asked Finn, why would I? Except¡­ I realized now that I wanted to do it. Of course I felt sorry for Connor, and I didn¡¯t want him to be trapped here like me. But this went deeper than that. That smell, that hunger. I wanted to consume his sin. Desperately. The demon on our heels felt like a rival scavenger, come to claim my meal. I needed to feed quickly, before it tainted him. That desire unsettled me. I had refused. I wanted to keep refusing. But maybe just a taste wouldn¡¯t hurt. And really, wasn¡¯t it the right thing to do? To save this man from my fate? Of course it was. Really, it would be wrong of me not to. Just this once.


    ¡°I think I can help,¡± I said. ¡°I just need you to trust me.¡±


    He nodded, frightened enough he would do whatever I said. It seemed he felt that hunger, too. Or perhaps it was merely instinctual, the way that prey could sense a hunter.


    ¡°Alright, well,¡± I wasn¡¯t sure exactly how to do this, but I could at least mimic the one time I had seen it done. ¡°Take my hand and¡­ think of the worst thing you have ever done.¡±


    Connor hesitated for only a moment, then he grabbed my hand. The connection was immediate, eager even. I could feel the memories and emotions flood into me, though they were too fast and muddled for me to discern what any of his regrets actually were. There was darkness there, yes, but there was also life mixed in. A reminder of the things I had been starting to forget, in this dull, grey place. As I drew from him it was like every burst into color. Even the grey mists around us seemed to simmer with a certain iridescence, now. It was¡­ intoxicating. I glanced over at Connor. He had changed, too. He seemed less substantial, somehow, as if I could see right through him. But even more obvious was his demeanor. Since the news of his death the man had been forlorn, as you would expect, but now a peaceful smile lit his face. He seemed perfectly content, happy.


    ¡°I feel so light now,¡± he said softly.


    As I felt his hand tug against my own, I realized he wasn¡¯t being metaphorical. His feet no longer touched the ground, and he was beginning to drift upwards, held back only by our clasped hands, like a balloon on a string. He stared upwards, somewhere into the mists obscuring what passed for a sky in this place.


    ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful,¡± he murmured. ¡°So perfect.¡±


    ¡°What do you see?¡± I asked.


    He turned, but barely seemed to see me, anymore.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± he repeated, then turned his gaze upward again.


    The flow of feeling from Connor had stopped and it appeared that my job was done. Whatever the next place was, he seemed to be ready to depart for it. He opened his hand, releasing his grip on mine, now the only thing holding him back was me. So, without any other ideas about what to do next, I released him. As I watched, he drifted lazily up into the mists, slowly fading from my view. Just before I lost sight of him altogether, I heard him say,


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    And then he was gone. Turning back to the demon, I saw that it had stopped several paces back. With Connor gone, it seemed to have lost any motivation to move further. It paid me absolutely no mind. Uncomfortable in its presence, I turned to walk away, but a voice from behind stopped me short.


    ¡°So, I take it you understand, now?¡±


    I turned to see Finn striding out of the fog, walking past the demon without any real concern.


    ¡°I think that we should have another talk,¡± I replied.


    ¡°An excellent idea,¡± he grinned, seeming more animated than he had been the first time I met him. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    He walked in the opposite direction of the demon and once again, I followed. I suddenly needed many more answers, because despite his conjecture, I didn¡¯t really understand anything.