Heather stood blinking wearily in the light of a new dawn falling through the pane of her windows. Disoriented and vaguely unaware of her surroundings she plods along the corridors of her still and hushed house. The change from plush carpeting to cold tile floors and the increase of light told her that she had made her way to the kitchen, chancing to open her eyes a little more, she could see the kitchen gleam, empty of anyone but her. No dishes were out, no chairs were moved, nothing seemed to speak that there was anyone else with her. Upon the table that stood nearest the screen doors there was just an envelope sitting in the middle, sealed and her name scripted upon it’s creamy white surface in an unfamiliar hand writing.
Heather looked out the window taking in the morning light. Something felt different, though her house looked the same, outside there were fields of tall grasses, a constant breeze combed through the blades, just reasserting how silent the rest of the world was. But what Heather saw outside made no sense to her, as her house was not found in any fields, but rather on a city street block. There were no noises of traffic, no sound but the wind and silence. Heather picked up the envelope, hoping that maybe it may have some answers. She thought it was odd that she felt no panic at being someplace that she should not be.
After opening the envelope, the paper inside fell out into her hands. As the paper’s weight hit her skin thoughts and memories flood her mind’s eyes of lilacs, and baby’s breathe. Sunlight hitting and breaking upon creeks on warm summer days, she remembered tastes of honeysuckles and lemonade. Little beads of tears trickled down her eyes as she felt like they were lost memories. The paper itself was unremarkable; slightly yellowed with age, letters written by hands in a handwriting that was unfamiliar and known at the same time. As she read the letter even more sensation came back to her:
Dear Lavender,
It seems cruel that one so young should come to this place so soon in a lifetime, but here you are. This is the place of choices and you have plenty. Those who have never made up their minds what they believed in come here to learn and to grow and to make a choice. Death is never the end but really the beginning. My advice is to follow the little bird and learn all that you can.
Love,
Uncle Tom
Heather stared at the letter after she finished reading it. More memories flooded her mind, images of an elderly man with white hair, slipping her little mints, always calling her Lavender, no matter how often he was corrected that her name was Heather. As these thoughts passed through her, Heather stared off into the distance, the golden strands of grass waved and basked in the sunlight. There was no cloud, though the sky looked out of place without the fluffy white pillows drifting in the heavens. Out in the distance a small dark spot moved closer, getting larger and taking shape as it progressed. As it came near Heather, she could make out jewel tones of emeralds and rubies, bright and gleaming feathers upon the small body of a bird. A buttercup yellow beak opened and words came out.
“Hello Heather, I am to be your guide as you must make a choice as to where you wish to spend your afterlife.”
Heather gaped at the bird and seemed at a lost for words before she could actually say something. Slightly confused, for though not raised Christian, she lived a Western Cultured life and thought that she would only have 2 choices: Heaven or Hell. When she told the bird this, it shrugged it’s tiny shoulders with indifference and explained that though those are two choices, they were not Heather’s only choices. That because she never made a choice in life, her choices now were numerable depending on what she knew and how she chose.
“I am only your guide,” the little bird said peering at Heather with sparkling black bead eyes. “In fact as a bonus for you, you get to actually visit with all the ways you can spend your afterlife before you make the choice.”
Heather didn’t know what to say, she was at a lost of all words. Never in her wildest day dreams did she believe that she would be dead, nor that the choices that she made while living would have such an impact on her eternity. She could only imagine Heaven and Hell, she never gave much thought to other view points of death. It was intriguing and tantalizing.
Heather’s thoughts were interrupted. The little bird was impatient to start, as there are many ways to pass the afterlife.
