Life After Death

It wasn’t really a room. But, then, they weren’t really people any longer. However, the spatial dimensions of the world beyond are hard enough to grasp even for the immortal souls that wander there so it is useful to call it a room. In this case, a sort of waiting room. A room in which the souls of the dead could rest in peace from whatever trials followed them in the afterlife. Religion in all its forms can be cruel to those who have died after leading a less than blameless life. There were not bad people, however. Religion traditionally sets aside another place for them with no respite from the rewards for their sins. But in this waiting room of sorts we find the wandering souls of eternity’s many and varied ways of life. They have found a place to rest while they go about the business of moving on to the rewards promised them. A promised land where things will not be so confusing; where the constraints of physicality won’t matter; where things will be clearly and obviously spiritual rather than this torturous halfway point between matter and where nothing will. In a corner of this room we see a young man, at least he was young when he died and hasn’t the motivation to alter his ethereal state. Besides, in this eternal crossing between life and death his identity still clings to him, his life still matters very much to him. He sits with his not quite mortal feet on a not quite material chair and stares into the middle distance which in this strange world between worlds can contain literally anything. In the opposite corner sits another man, dressed in faintly clerical robes and studying a bible, desperately flipping over the pages as if hoping a golden ticket will fly from the pages to pardon him. The two men don’t speak to each other, each man has his own problems and has no desire to complicate their already complicated afterlives with unnecessary relationships. Then, in this stagnant silence of sorrow, a little life after life enters.

The door burst open and a man dressed in the garb of a middle class Egyptian from the Second Dynasty leapt into the room, all restless jitters and extravagant hand gestures. The Egyptian looked to be advanced in years but he had the energy and vivacity of youth. He was all smiles and aimed every one at the two other occupants of the room. Both responded with a brief, polite smile then returned to their own private ponderings. The Egyptian grimaced apologetically at the room in general then sat down. But not for long. He fidgeted and bounced in his seat then leapt to his feet and paced the room. He stopped in front of the young man and waited until the young man lifted his head. The Egyptian grinned a kilowatt smile.
“What are you in for?” He asked, then laughed so hard it would probably have been heard by the living, “Do you get it?” The Egyptian asked, “Like prison? I heard that one from a man who died during a riot at Wormwood Scrubs.” The prison’s name was unfamiliar to him and it felt foreign in his mouth but he was elated to know a joke so far removed from his own time.
"I'm just waiting." The young man replied. The Egyptian nodded and waited for the young man to elaborate. When he didn't the Egyptian stuck out a hand.
"My name is Mosa. I died during King Thutmose III's reign in the Nile Valley." He explained proudly, "What's your story?" The young man shook Mosa's hand.
"My name's Pete." He said, "I died during Queen Elizabeth II's reign in London."
"You know Wormwood Scrubs?" Mosa asked. Pete smiled wanly and nodded while Mosa roared with happy laughter. Pete was guiltily relieved when Mosa turned his attention to the priest, who had been watching them both over the top of his bible.
"My name is Mosa." Mosa repeated, "And this is Pete. You are?"
"Father Thatcher." The priest replied, "I died during the reign of King Henry VIII in Bath." Pete cocked his head and frowned. The boy was English from a later century so he was probably casting his mind back to his history lessons, sparked by what Thatcher had said.
"Yes." Thatcher said to Pete before he asked, "I was burned during the catholic persecutions." Pete nodded slowly, "And, yes, the reason I am here in Purgatory is because the Pope excommunicated England and I stayed because I felt my country needed ministering to in those difficult times." Thatcher sighed and held up his bible, "I keep hoping there's a loophole."
"Seems like we're all just waiting to get out of here." Pete said.
"Not me!" Mosa exclaimed. He hadn't understood the very serious events that Pete and Thatcher had not talked about, even if he had it would have done nothing to dampen his mood, "I'm having a wonderful time!" Pete looked up at Mosa.
"What do you mean?" Pete asked, "Everyone I've met has found this to be a frustrating halfway point between the life they have left and the afterlife they've been promised." Mosa nodded vigorously.
"Oh yes." Mosa agreed, "But you all sit around and simply wait. In my century, my religion we have to fight our way to our eternal reward. We have to find the Fields of Reeds where we can meet the gods. I'm hoping to meet Thoth, the Creator God." Mosa's eyes took on a misty look and then he snapped back to animation, "But before then I have to fight demons and walk rivers of fire and battle with sphinx." Mosa jumped and pranced around the room as he reeled off the list. Pete and Thatcher waited until the Egyptian realised they were neither listening nor interested.
"What about you, Pete?" Thatcher asked when Mosa slumped into a chair, grumbling. Pete shrugged.
"I'm waiting." He said.
"For what?" Asked Thatcher kindly.
"I was on my way to propose to my girlfriend when I was hit by a car and killed. She thinks I stood her up and doesn't know that I would have spent the rest of my life with her. I did spend the rest of my life with her, I suppose." Even Mosa was still and quiet as Pete told his story, he seemed to shrink as he told it, "I'm waiting for her to let go of me, to forgive me, to somehow realise that I loved her." Pete sighed, "If this were 'An Affair to Remember' and I was Cary Grant it wouldn't be a problem but it's not and neither am I so there you have it." There was a moment's mournful silence. Pete's own personal purgatory seemed impossible to get out of. Communication with the mortal realm was difficult and dangerous for all involved. Then Mosa's brow furrowed.
"An Affair to Remember?" He repeated. Pete smiled a shadowy smile.
"It's a movie." He said, "Forget I mentioned it."
"That's all? That's your stories?" Mosa asked. The other men nodded heavily, "I have to fight a Sphinx." The Egyptian muttered, Pete and Thatcher flashed him a glare, "What?" Mosa said, "I do. Feeling a bit sorry for yourself is nothing. The Sphinx can rip off my arms and legs and hit me with them." Pete and Thatcher frowned. It was Pete who spoke first.
"You don't have arms and legs, you're..."
"Dead, yes I know." Mosa interrupted, "My ka's arms and legs then, my spiritual limbs, my... you know full well what I mean." Mosa slumped into a chair again and sulked. He wasn't enjoying the company of these two men. Their depression was rubbing off on him. Mosa wondered, as he often did, why these future generations had such boring afterlives. Pete was obviously wondering the same thing.
"In a way," the young man began, "I wish I did have to fight a Sphinx. At least it would be... I would know. It would be one thing or the other. Instead of sitting and waiting. For what may never happen. And there's nothing I can do." Mosa watched glumly as Thatcher got out of his seat and crossed over to sit next to Pete.
"What are you waiting for?" Thatcher asked.
"I told you, I'm waiting for Kathryn to understand what happened and forgive me."
"There is no way she can ever know." Thatcher replied, "She was never informed of your accident, there isn't any way anyone will tell her now. She will never know. But she will live, she is living."
"Without me." Pete pointed out, in a tiny voice. Thatcher smiled kindly.
"Perhaps it is not her who needs to let go, perhaps it is you." Pete frowned up at the priest for a moment. Mosa was still watching them carefully.
"You are not to blame, Pete." Thatcher continued, "There was nothing you could have done. There is nothing you can do now to change things. But you can let go."
"Of what?" Pete asked.
"Of whatever holds you here." Thatcher replied, "If it is your guilt, you need not worry. If it is your love for Kathryn then you will see her again but not here. If it is fear of what comes next, let me assure you it is quite wonderful. And if it is an unwillingness to let go of the mortal world then let me ask you, is it better here?"
"No." Pete said quietly.
"No to which statement?" Thatcher asked.
"I don't know." Pete replied. There was a long silence as Pete stared at his toes, his hands clasped together tightly. Mosa stared at the two men. Thatcher looked up, caught the Egyptian's eye and smiled. Mosa considered that perhaps modern afterlives were complicated, just not physically. He wondered which was worse. After a long time, Pete's hands relaxed and he lifted his head.
"You are ready now?" Thatcher said. Pete nodded, his expression lifting for the first time since Mosa had come into the room, "Then go."
"Thank you, Father." Pete said. Thatcher nodded. Pete disappeared. With no fading or smoke or flash of light. He was simply there one moment and gone the next. Mosa stared at the space where he'd been then looked at Thatcher.
"You are not trapped here." Mosa guessed. Thatcher stood up.
"Not exactly." Thatcher admitted, "My story is true. I am here in purgatory because my country was excommunicated. Perhaps I could leave, perhaps I couldn't but I stay. The reason I became a priest in life was to help and guide. Why stop now when people like Pete need people like me?"
"Quite a sacrifice." Mosa pointed out.
"No." Thatcher disagreed, "Not a sacrifice. A choice." The priest stood up and crossed over to the Egyptian on his way to the door, "Good luck with the Sphinx, Mosa."
"Thank you." The Egyptian replied, "But do you not have words of reassurance and comfort for me?" Thatcher thought for a moment.
"Do you need it?"
"Couldn't hurt."
"Avoid the claws."