2MSS #20: Limbo
From @alexprompts‘ post: “Of course I don’t fear death - she raised me.”
Day 20 of the 2 Month Short Stories Challenge w/ @flyingfalconflower12
Word count: 1450
Constructive criticism welcome!
I embraced the wind as I ran across rooftops. From gap to gap, I leapt. Traversing the town from so high above placed a smile on my face. People milled about below me, some shooting confused or alarmed looks at me. It had been three hours since I left my house and it was time for a break. Crossing my legs and peering over the edge of a building, I made eye contact with a friend. She signalled at me to come down. I grimaced, knowing what she would say. Containers lining the side of the building paved my way to the ground.
Abby studied me with her arms folded and her brows furrowed. “You don’t fear death, do you? You’re always doing parkour in your free time. Can’t believe you haven’t had a bad fall yet.”
I smirked. “Of course I don’t fear death — she raised me.”
“Haha, funny. Come along — I’m grabbing lunch at your favourite place.”
“No, really. Let me tell you about it,” I insisted. “I’ve never gotten to tell my story.”
——————-
My birth name had been Ana Mitrović. My new name was Anna Miler. I still remember the phlegm clogging my itchy throat. Simultaneous hot and cold as I lay swaddled in the blankets of my cot, the raging fever waging a war with my body. Breathing was laborious. My mother’s face — worried, anxious, stressed — looking down at me, wondering how she could make me healthy.
A burning sensation overtook everything. I shivered, an infant clueless of everything but the pain I was feeling. And then it went dark: replaced by chilly water on my back and the kiss of a passing breeze. Someone was wading towards me. I broke out in tears and called for the reassurance of my parents. The only person that came was a lanky woman, clothed in white. Her hair was silk, her skin as pale as milk. Her eyes, however, seemed darker than the deepest night.
She cradled me, placing a hand on my forehead. The warmth came back as she did that. This time, I was unscathed. It was pleasant, like a loving mother’s kiss. An orange glow shone on her palm as she drew it away. A smile turned into an “O” of surprise as she carried me away.
I must have fallen asleep, for I remembered waking up in a room full of cots. My clothes had been changed. I knew I was safe there. The pale woman came in and stood by my cot.
“This is your home now, Ana. Welcome to Limbo. You can call me Mother Death.”
Turning to a woman at her side, she whispered something. The only things I could pick out were, “the fire we’ve been looking for.” Many years had to pass before those words uncovered their meaning.
———————-
The schoolyard was packed with other kids — all having died very young — rushing to their class. Although the dorms were close to the campus, everyone left it to the last minute. A television anchored to the roof of the main corridor blared news from the world of the living. It was like a pair of binoculars to the chaos that Death had saved us from.
In class, the Soul Harvesting teacher pulled out a huge leather-bound journal. It was inked with the haphazard inscriptions of Mother Death herself. We were Mother Death’s helpers in the making. Souls were finicky: sometimes they fled the body too fast, while some refused to join the Underworld. We were taught about the different depths of Hell and where to place the souls of the sinners (in the flames for the malicious, deep in icy water for the deceitful).
At times, we would get a teacher from ten centuries ago. Everyone in Limbo did not age past twenty, but there were girls in 1920s flapper fashion and men in Roman robes. Despite barely having seen anything but the dark cave walls of Limbo, nothing was missing.
———————-
“Ana. Mother Death has asked to see you,” my professor told me. “Now. It’s urgent.”
I nodded, shoving my notebooks into my bag. Faint blue light led my way out of the university campus. I swerved through crowds and inched my way through the Central Market. As I passed by a stall hawking mushrooms, the vendor grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in.
“You can feel it in the air, can’t you?” she whispered, looking around with wary eyes.
“Feel what?”
“Hell is stirring beneath us. It’s been grumbling for years — but recently it’s been getting worse. I thought you’d know. You seem like one of them.”
“I don’t get it. Sorry, but I have to meet Mother Death now.”
“Hold on. Let me check whether my instincts were right.”
Her grasp on my hand tightened and became warmer. The fire. The heat tingled and intensified. A flame rose from my palm. I yelped and jumped back, knocking over a container of wares.
“When you died, did it feel like a flame burning you up?”
“Yeah. I died of a fever.”
She smiled at me and said, “That wasn’t the fever. It was Hell trying to get to you.”
———————-
Mother Death sat at her dining table in her cottage. Even though she headed the city, she loved the seclusion of the corners of Limbo. She poured two cups of tea with nimble fingers and invited me to sit across her.
“I’ve heard that you’re doing exceptionally well in university. You’ll be amazing in the soul research field, my dear.”
My cheeks glowed with her approval. She had returned me the life that was snatched from me. She provided for all.
“It’s all thanks to you, Mother,” I paused before continuing, “There’s something very odd that I heard today from a vendor at the Central Market.”
She motioned for me to continue. I poured out every detail of the encounter, my hands trembling as I held the cup for its comforting warmth. Midway through my recollection, she extracted a notepad from her tremendous desk drawers. With a quill and a bottle of ink, she wrote with a deft hand. Her eyes were keen, concentrated on my every word. Encouraged, I retold the day’s affairs with a fairytale-like flourish.
“That is what I wanted to discuss today. From what you told me, you were speaking to Marie. She sees people’s fates. A wonderful talent that hasn’t grown obsolete.”
“Why does she have that power?” I played with my belt buckle, agitated by what Mother may say.
“The souls in Hell don’t like being in Hell. Every few centuries, they try to break out into the world of the living. She helped me piece together a team for the last attempt.”
The fire we’ve been looking for. I was part of the team. My hands… Their flames! Dancing balls of light that emerged in my moments of vivid emotion. When I failed my Soul Harvesting final… The textbook that burned. My head bobbed up and down in slow acceptance.
“Something’s different now. They’ve been speaking to me in my dreams. I don’t know what they’re saying — the connection’s somewhat garbled,” Mother Death said.
“What do I do? I don’t know anything…”
“You’ll have to return to the Overworld. Use a new name — Anna Miller?”
“And then?”
“Spend some time on Earth. Soon, I’ll come for you again. You’ll have to experience me a second time, I’m afraid.”
“And that’s how I infiltrate Hell? Death under a new identity?”
“Smart girl. I’ll accompany you to the Gate of Rebirth and no further.”
———————-
Abby was dumbfounded, struck by silence. Patting her back, I looked on as she struggled to process it all. Her eyes were locked onto the ground. She drew in her lips and nibbled on them as she delivered her viewpoint, “Damn, Anna. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Let’s go to the restaurant. Pretend nothing happened.”
I helped her up to her feet and we walked to the nearby Italian restaurant. The aroma of food took a load off our shoulders as we pored over the menu. Service was quick; my plate of carbonara arrived seven minutes after ordering. I dug into it, revelling in the rich creaminess of it.
A few minutes into the meal, a headache crept in. I should’ve slept more last night. My chest was fluttering. Too fast. Way too fast. And then it slowed down. A pale woman came to our table and took my wrist. Abby’s eyes darted to her, alarmed, confused.
“Are you ready?” the woman murmured.
MOTHER.
My body shook and then stiffened, everything fading to black.
Taglist
@galaxy-charm @rhyseoshaughnessy @icedcoffeewriting
