by Ellie Cameron
Light pierced the canopy in small rays, leaving the rest of the forest floor in shadow. In the distance I could hear laughter, crying, whispers, and silence. I stepped off of the forest path to follow the sounds, pushing into the undergrowth, deeper into the endless twilight. Thorns pulled at my clothes, leaving them torn and tattered. My glasses fell off my face, cracking under foot as I pushed deeper, deeper, deeper. Branches reached to grab me, cracking my watch and scratching my arms. Roots reached to trip me, grasping my shoes and pulling them away into the darkness.
Bare and battered, I burst into a clearing. In front of me was a long rectangular table covered with a gray cloth and bearing tea pots, cups, and food. Two figures sat at either side of the head of the table, where a seat sat empty for me.
The first, sitting to my right, was dark-skinned, with short, dark hair. They wore an immaculate suit of white silk, golden accents embroidered in swirling patterns. Their irises were a bright, glittering gold, twinkling like a fire.
The second, to my left, was pale, with long, silver hair. Their irises were a shining, cold silver, glimmering with starlight. They wore a long, flowing dress, seemingly woven of the night sky. Constellations and galaxies glimmered and shifted across it.
They spoke together, their two voices echoing through the clearing. “Welcome, child. Join us for tea. We have much to discuss.”
A cup and plate appeared in front of me, filled with tea and sandwiches. “Who are you? Where am I?”
The one to my right took a sip of their tea. Lowering their cup, they said, “Welcome to the Spirit Grove. We are Life and Death.” They paused for a moment, taking a bite of a sandwich. “Sometimes known as Light and Dark, Good and Evil, although that one isn’t really fair.”
“Day and Night,” the one to the left said. Their voice was cold and distant, echoing from the air around us rather than their mouth. “In the distant past, Moon and Sun. Anything that could have opposites, really.”
I set my cup down. “How about Yin and Yang?” Both of them smiled and nodded. “So who’s who?”
Right smiled. “Who do you think each is? Does it truly matter, if we exist as one?”
My head was still too foggy to consider their words; I pressed on. “Why am I here?”
“Oh, that’s simple. You’re dead,” Left said, lifting a cup to their mouth.
“We’re here to discuss your fate,” Right said. “There are a few options. Most choose to move on to the afterlife of their choice; some choose to try their life again, some from the start and some from before they died. You’re familiar with deja vu?”
“There’s also resurrection, of course,” Left said. “Dying and being brought back to life, but that’s a circumstantial option. Reincarnation is another popular choice. The chance to start over, roll the dice on a new life.”
“Take your time to think,” Right said. “It’s an important decision, and you have all the time you need.”
So we sat for hours, or minutes, or days. Time stood still, as we sipped our tea and ate our food. The silence fell around us in the perpetually dusk lit clearing. “Has anyone ever asked to stay here?” The silence was broken, and both spirits looked surprised.
“No, they haven’t,” Right said, choosing their words one at a time. “Most find it eerie, too quiet and calm.
“Humans like energy, activity, being busy,” Left picked up. “There’s no place for any of that here, so they move on.”
“I don’t like that stuff,” I said. “It’s too much. I like it here, it’s quiet. Peaceful. Can I stay?”
Life and Death looked at each other, their faces unmoving and expressionless as they seemed to share some sort of unspoken conversation; finally, their mouths formed small smiles, so small they wouldn’t have been noticeable had there been anything else to watch.
Ellie Cameron is an emerging nonbinary writer. They hold a BA in Writing Arts with a concentration in Creative Writing from Rowan University. They have humor published in R U Joking? (rujoking.org), which they are a founding editor of.