short story #1

A green sky, a red field. Grass as tall as a bus, trees stretching into near infinity. Upon opening your eyes, these are what greeted you. you weren't too sure what to make of it, so you decided not to cry out in fear. sitting up, you noticed a lake not too far from you. and across from that lake was a man. his trench coat almost seemed to blend in with the ground, and his bald head reflected the sky a little too perfectly. it was an unnerving sight. you walked over to him immediately. 

As you got closer to him, you felt yourself getting more and more sluggish. What is this feeling? You thought. the man, you realised, wasn't

exactly a man at all. but they weren't a woman either. Despite their shaven head, they looked perfectly androgynous, without age or race to worry about. They patted the ground next to them. "Sit," they said. Their voice was androgynous too. But you thought they looked a bit... see-through?

You sat next to them, your mind burning with questions. What is this place? Why am I here? Why are you here? What are you? All these

questions and more ran through your head. The person seemed to notice this and said "I know you must be confused. I was too, upon my arrival. but you have to do your duty now." What? What duty? You couldn't parse what they were saying. They gave you a sad smile. "Would you like me to explain myself?" You nodded, doing your best to pay full attention despite your weariness. "Ok," they smiled. 

"Once, I was a person like you. and in my place was a person like me. and I fell upon this wonderous world, the trees spouting sap like honey, the lakes nutritious. this place, and all its inhabitants, were made for this place. This garden of life." 

Inhabitants? you wondered. I thought we were the only ones here. They seemed to notice this too, so they corrected themselves. "At least, there were inhabitants when I arrived. My mentor, Jackie, told me my purpose. how I came here, what I was destined to do, and how I will leave this place in search of greater pastures. it is now my turn to do the same with you, Alex. 

"You died. walking down an icy road late at night, a truck skidded off the road and hit you. I’ll admit, it was ugly. it was slow, and you had essentially no chance of surviving. despite this, your partner kept you alive for a while longer, unknowingly prolonging your torture. your death came as a relief to them, however."

Oh. So that's what happened. Upon hearing this, you

felt your memories flooding back. You remember the primal fear you felt seeing the truck make a line straight for you, its horn honking to no use. You remember the pain and thoughts of wanting your partner to stop the support, to let you die, to let you rest. You remember being unable to, on account of losing your mouth. In this new world of peace and solace, you began to shake.

The person (mentor?) smiled again. "Yes, I had that reaction too. you may find it strange how you were able to lose such seemingly important memories. I assure you, that is all part of the process. I am not exactly sure who put this process into place but know that they are more powerful that you could ever know." 

You swallowed. "So, then... were the Christians correct? is this..." you

trailed off. the mentor gave another smile, this one sadder than before. "I’m afraid not, Alex. no religions were completely correct. they mostly got bits and pieces right, but no one truly knows, I’m afraid." you stopped to

think about this. did nobody know? so you were alone in knowing this? were you alone again? it took you so long to get yourself out of those workshops. The three years you spent in solitude, excluded from society, gave you an incurable PTSD. The thought of having to do that again caused you to begin shaking again. 

"So, what is this?" you asked. "What am I doing here?" The mentor looked a bit more serious now. "My job here, Alex, is to pass the reigns of life over to those without substance, without form. to those who barely exist, and to those whose lives impacted very little. to the invisible humans of the earth, a planet of attentive, attention-seeking mortals. I am to give you, Alex, the very thread that spins around the globe. That treads the

line between life and death. To reap the souls of those who cannot go on, and to sow the seeds of the ones for whom life will begin anew. I am not death or life, Alex. I give form to something entirely separate. something different."

You stared at them, mouth agape. What? What were they talking about? Souls? Seeds? Life? Mortals? Were they the grim reaper? Will I become the grim reaper? These words spilt out of you before you could contain them. You asked question after question. The mentor tried to answer them, but each answer gave rise to more questions, an exponential tidal wave of mystery. eventually, they stopped you. "Alex," they said wearily, "I’m afraid I must stop here. surely you have noticed that you can see right through me by now?" They were right. You could almost see the grass behind them. you were afraid to touch them, for fear of doing something wrong, but they held your hand gently. "It is ok, Alex. you will know soon enough what to do."  

"But what if I don’t?" you shouted, scared. This world was new to you, and being its master was impossible. But the mentor smiled. 

"You will. because that is what They determined." You stared in shock as your hand slowly fell to the ground, and you suddenly realised that it was being held by no one at all. You stood up slowly, noticing a long, metal blade reflecting in the distance. An impulse shot through you, urging you to go to it. Picking up the scythe, you suddenly realised what you had to do. And you went forth, becoming the arbiter of existence.

"The Arbiter", by me. I wrote this in about 30-40 minutes in one sitting, but even after cleaning it up there are probably still spelling mistakes. Constructive criticism welcome.