City Under No Stars
She put
down her glass, heavily. The waning faces swooped and chatted around her,
unaware. Under the dim light they looked drawn and tired, as if they’d been
sleeping for years. Young and unaged. Trapped. Stopped. Maybe she hadn’t been
pulled out of that bathtub after all. The wine soured in her glass.
“Emily?”
They were all dead. They had been dead for years. Her soul burned at the unfairness.
“Are you ok?”
When you died you were supposed to stop, to end. To not know anything else. But to keep waking and ticking in the face of all that loss, in a world where people don’t age and nothing heals, where it always rains and the only comfort is knowing that you could be somewhere worse... that was hell. She knew that now. She had heard of limbo before Dante’s bland portrayal but now, amongst these godless strangers - in an entire city of unanswered faith - she knew this wasn’t her place either. Limbo was a gentle loss. She didn’t deserve it.
“Emily?”
They were all dead. They had been dead for years. Her soul burned at the unfairness.
“Are you ok?”
When you died you were supposed to stop, to end. To not know anything else. But to keep waking and ticking in the face of all that loss, in a world where people don’t age and nothing heals, where it always rains and the only comfort is knowing that you could be somewhere worse... that was hell. She knew that now. She had heard of limbo before Dante’s bland portrayal but now, amongst these godless strangers - in an entire city of unanswered faith - she knew this wasn’t her place either. Limbo was a gentle loss. She didn’t deserve it.
Copyright Amy Beddows 2012
