Second Chances
By Molly Felt
Eleanor Graham tried to concentrate. She was way behind. If she didn’t finish this report, she would lose the grant money she had received to study the genetic variations between Neanderthal and Homo Sapiens. Outside, she could hear her neighbors making a racket.
“Typical,” she muttered. “Why are they so loud?” She tried to block them out. She peeked out the window. All seven of them were crowded around the front of the house, looking up. “What are they doing?” She craned her neck to see around the bushes, two legs of her chair lifting off the ground. Just a little farther… Eleanor hit the ground with a thwack as her chair toppled. She stood up and looked out the window. A grand piano was being slowly hoisted up to the second story of the neighbors’ house. “Looks like a cartoon death waiting to happen.” She thought about it. “Would that be SO bad,” she wondered? “No, that’s not nice. Bad Eleanor.”
Eleanor wasn’t particularly fond of her neighbors. She was a scientist. Someone who used reason and relied on evidence. She kept to herself and wasn’t terribly social. Her neighbors? Not so much. The day Eleanor moved in, the mother next door came over to welcome her to the block. Eleanor barely had the chance to introduce herself when the woman said, “Our parish is always looking for new members.” Eleanor immediately formed a negative opinion of her. She was not religious, didn’t want to be religious, had had negative experiences with religious people, and, if she was being totally honest, didn’t think very highly of people who operated on faith. So, within two minutes of meeting her neighbors, she decided she didn’t like them. She found ways to avoid them, waiting to get her mail until she knew they had already gotten theirs, and doing yard work at night to avoid running into them during the day. She found the things they did irritating, like laughing or having friends over. Here they were, disrupting her again with their noise.
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
“It’s always something,” she said. She picked up her chair and sat down, trying to focus. But she couldn’t. She was annoyed and distracted. Growing more frustrated and blaming the neighbors, she decided to step away. Eleanor put on her running shoes and stepped outside. On the ground, she saw a shiny penny. She picked it up and put it in her pocket. She checked to make sure no one saw her, then took off in the opposite direction of their house. As she ran away, she could hear them all being SO, SO LOUD.
My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences? My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences?
“Eleanor!” shouted Ian. Or was it Evan? Maybe Ethan? She had no idea. There were so many of them and she couldn’t keep them straight. She hadn’t tried very hard. “Look!” The child pointed to the piano in the air. She pretended she didn’t hear him, but as she got closer to the house, there was no way to avoid responding. “Look, Eleanor! Look!” Eleanor made eye contact with the mystery child and nodded. The boy looked so happy that she had acknowledged him. For just a second, Eleanor felt bad. But that passed as she saw the piano hanging above the sidewalk where she needed to pass. She looked up. The movers were struggling to control the piano which was swaying back and forth.
“Well that doesn’t look good,” thought Eleanor. “I should probably go around—”
Just then, one of the ropes snapped and Eleanor watched, as if in slow motion, as the piano began to fall. She thought about moving, but was frozen. The world around her turned black.
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
Markus was an intern at the Department of World Wide Afterlives. He’d been learning how to file paperwork for a few centuries, but he wasn’t doing a good job. Today was his last chance to impress the Director of Afterlife Inspection. If he failed, he would be demoted to intake coordinator—a job he had already done for six hundred years and hated. He was determined to succeed, but didn’t know he was about to stumble into the most massive cosmic clerical error any intern at the DWWA had ever committed.
A folder labeled ELEANOR GRAHAM—ATHEIST sat with a few others on a mostly empty desk. A desk across the room was piled high with files. Markus grabbed Eleanor’s file and began to leaf through it as he walked to the coffeemaker. He didn’t see the DWWA librarian pass in front of him with a book cart. His foot clipped the edge of the cart and he tripped, Eleanor’s file flying out of his hand. It whizzed past the desk piled with other folders, knocking over several. The folders and paperwork went everywhere. Markus, terrified of being sent back to Intake, scrambled to straighten up. He piled everything on the desk and shoved papers back anywhere he could. He headed for the coffee. As he poured himself a cup, the door opened and in walked the Director of Afterlife Inspection, Jerry Morrison.
“Markus, I thought I asked you to put all these files in the HELL bin.” Markus panicked.
“Don’t screw this up, Markus. You’re on thin ice already.”
“No, sir. I was just doing that.” He scooped up the files and placed them in a slot on the wall. It was one of many, each with a different sign above it. As he deposited the files and listened to them fall into whatever was behind the wall, he realized that he had put Eleanor Graham’s file through the slot, too.
Jerry asked, “Hey, where’s that Graham file? Thought I left it on the Atheist desk for processing.” Markus glanced around, pretending to be helpful.
“I’ll take a look and see if I can find it.”
“Listen up, Markus. That file MUST be found. We can’t have an atheist in the wrong afterlife—or any afterlife. Find it or this will be your last day in Filing.” Markus gulped. Jerry grabbed a donut and left.
“Oh no! What have I done?” Markus was in for it now.
Eleanor woke up in a reddish-brown stone room with a low ceiling. It was hot and there was a faint smell of sulfur in the air. She was lying on a pile of sharp chunks of brimstone. Above her was a human-sized glass tube leading from the ceiling to her spot on the ground. She heard a whooshing sound and tried to move out of the way. As she tripped over the uneven brimstone, a man slid down the tube and was deposited on the pile. A few seconds later, the whooshing sound started again.
There was a line of people leading to a door. She stepped to the end of it and waited for what seemed like weeks. Through the door, she saw more doors along the walls of a huge new room. It was filled with people, coming and going out of the side doors. Each door had a different title, like Calisthenics, Repetitive Noises, Atonal Music, and Rotten Produce. On the far side of the room was a huge fiery throne behind a desk. A beastly man with goat horns and a barbed tail sat on the throne, filing his claws, with an expression of boredom on his face. On the desk was a nameplate that read, SATAN, Director. A tray of burnt chocolate chip cookies was laid out on the desk. A sign hung down above the desk with lights that flashed: Welcome to Hell!
Eleanor approached the desk.
“Mr. Sattan?” she asked. The man didn’t look up.
My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences? My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences?
“Satan,” he corrected her.
“Right,” said Eleanor. “I’m confused. What exactly is this? Am I dreaming?”
“No dear,” he said. “It’s more like a nightmare.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You thought you’d go to Heaven, I suppose?” he asked, yawning. Eleanor was baffled.
“What? That’s not a thing.”
“Oh, there’s a heaven,” he replied. “But this isn’t that and you aren’t there. I’d suggest you settle in because it’s going to be a long afterlife.” Eleanor suddenly flashed on the piano falling before everything went dark. “Yes, that’s right, dear,” he said. “Your life is over and this is what’s next. Forever. And ever.” He leaned over the desk and stared into her eyes. “And ever.” Eleanor freaked out.
“Oh, NO NO NO NO NO! This is a dream—I’m dreaming. There’s no such thing as heaven or hell—“ A smile crept across Satan’s face.
“An atheist? How fun! This never happens! Dear, I’m sorry to tell you, you were wrong. Actually, I’m not sorry. I’m ecstatic to tell you you were wrong!” Eleanor could see him plotting. “What to do first? Hmm…” She panicked and ran. As she tried to escape, she could hear him laughing maniacally. She was so tired. If only she could sleep for a little while and figure out what to do.
She saw a door marked Exhaustion Reducing Eye Resting Temporary Paralysis Inducing Clinic.
“That sounds an awful lot like sleep,” Eleanor said and reached for the doorknob. As she entered the room, she saw no beds. People were crammed, shoulder to shoulder, yawning, and rubbing their eyes which had huge dark circles under them. No one was sleeping. A demon was reading a very exciting book that was way too interesting to stop listening to.
“This is horrible,” one person said.
“I’m so tired,” said another.
“Why is this story so good?” asked a third. “This is torture!”
Eleanor slammed the door shut.
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
“I gotta get outta here,” she said, and started hunting for a way out. She suspected that every door contained a specific type of nightmare that she wanted no part of. There was one door at the very edge of the room labeled “Authorized Personnel Only.” She looked over her shoulder. As far as she could tell, no one was watching her.
Eleanor turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door. It was kind of like an apartment. There was a bed with a dark red velvet blanket and a kitchen with black appliances. A sign on the wall written in script read “Cursed.”
My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences? My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences?
There was a framed photo of a family, but all the faces had been scribbled on with Sharpie. Eleanor walked into the kitchen. An apron with the word “Spicy” hung from a hook on the wall. The dial on the oven had three temperatures: broil, inferno, and meteorite. As much as Eleanor wanted to escape, she was fascinated by everything in the apartment. On the counter was a delicious looking devil’s food cake and piles of burned cookies neatly stacked in Tupperware containers. Eleanor opened the refrigerator. The shelves were filled with deviled eggs. She reached for one when she heard a low growl behind her. She turned to see a pit bull snarling at her. The dog had a pink crystal collar with a tag that said Luci. Eleanor glanced around looking for any way out. She saw a stone tunnel near the bed and tried to figure out how to get there. Luci bared her teeth and inched closer. Eleanor started to back away, but there was nowhere to go. She reached behind her and grabbed a deviled egg. Luci’s teeth looked even bigger now. Eleanor showed the egg to Luci and pulled her arm back. She threw the egg off to one side and when Luci’s head turned to follow it, Eleanor made a break for it. She sprinted for the tunnel. Luci was distracted just long enough for her to make it. She looked back over her shoulder and Luci was coming up fast behind her. Without thinking, she reached for a door and opened it. She flew through it and slammed it behind her.
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
Jerry Morrison stormed into the DWWA control room, dragging Markus behind him.
“We lost another atheist—Eleanor Graham. Find her,” he ordered. The security guard scrambled to fire up the lost soul tracking device. A red dot appeared on the screen. Markus watched it move through a tunnel. The security guard pointed.
“Here she is, Sir. In the tunnel between Hell and Valhalla.” Markus bit his lip.
“Valhalla? HELL???” Jerry turned angrily to Markus. “WHY IS SHE IN AN AFTERLIFE?” Markus looked away.
“Um—“
“GET HER OUT OF THERE NOW!” Jerry screamed. Markus didn’t know what to do. The security guard radioed his team.
“Lost soul in Sector V. Immediate Extraction. Repeat. Lost soul in Sector V.”
Eleanor leaned against the door and closed her eyes to catch her breath.
“What the…“
“Helheim.”
Eleanor opened her eyes and saw a huge, bearded man wearing a helmet and carrying a shield while drinking out of a horned goblet. He passed by her.
“We pronounce it Helheim,” he said.
Eleanor was in a huge gold and bronze hall lit by torches. The walls were decorated with dragons and paintings of battles. White and gold pillars stretched up to the high, arched ceiling. In the wooden rafters lounged about twenty women wearing armor. They held huge platters that looked like shields filled with food. Five long tables stretched across the room and thousands of people who looked like they had walked out of a Norse myth were seated at the tables, listening to a man at the end of the room give a long, boring lecture.
“And that, Bjorn, is why we don’t eat rocks. Other questions? No? Then let the feast begin!” The women in the rafters jumped down headfirst, and just before they hit the ground, huge, feathered wings sprouted from their backs and they soared over the tables, holding the platters at eye level, so all the diners had to do was grab food off the plates and eat.
Suddenly, Eleanor heard animal claws scraping on the stone floor. Luci emerged from the door she had just come through.
But it wasn’t Luci. It was another beast, larger than a human, and very shaggy. It looked more like a wolf than a pit bull. The pink collar and tag were the only things that hadn’t changed. The tag read “Geri.” Eleanor backed into a wall and sank to the floor. She was tired, and knew that the wolf would catch her if she ran. The wolf growled.
“Ah, Geri, there you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said an enormous man. He had long blonde hair, and one blue eye. An eyepatch covered his other eye. There was another wolf at his feet, and a raven perched on each of his shoulders.
Geri ran toward the man and sat at his feet.
“Odin, who is this intruder?”
Eleanor looked up to see an angry Norseman pointing at her. The one-eyed man looked at her.
“Mortal!” said Odin, “Leave, or I will smite you.” Eleanor was getting tired of this.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can’t smite me. Pretty sure I’m already dead,” she said.
Odin frowned, “Wait a minute. My smotation powers don’t work in Valhalla?”
“Hey!” A voice rose from the far end of the table, barely audible from such a distance. “Odin doesn’t have any power in Valhalla? Really? We can do whatever we want?” Odin raised his one good eyebrow with worry.
“No, no, no—that’s not what anyone is saying. I’m still Odin and you’re still not.” He stood tall and spread his arms out wide. Thunder boomed and shook the hall. Satisfied, Odin lowered his arms. As he did, a smoked herring flew from a distant part of the dining hall and slapped him in the face.
“FOOD FIGHT!” Someone yelled. The hall erupted in pandemonium. Meat, berries, eggs, and live ducks flew across the dining hall, smashing into walls, bodies, tables, and faces. Eleanor hid under one of the tables. The door swung open and several DWWA guards ran into the hall. Eleanor used the distraction to escape. She ran back toward the door, remembering that she had seen another door in the tunnel. Maybe that would get her home?
In the DWWA Control Room, the security guards cleaned themselves off.
“We couldn’t find her, sir,” one guard said, wiping some sort of grain cereal off his face.
“What do you mean you couldn’t find her? She was in Valhalla, right?” asked Jerry.
“Yes, our tracking software shows that she was there when we got there, but in all the confusion, she, uh, she got away.” Markus suddenly got an idea.
“Wait—she ran into Valhalla because of a dog, right?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered the guard.
“Okay, what if we seal every door to every afterlife except the atheist one? Then we get a dog—“
Jerry interrupted him.
“Well, technically, there is no afterlife for atheists, but I see where you’re going. Let’s do it. Get me a dog. A big scary one.”
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
Eleanor walked carefully through the dark tunnel, careful not to disturb any hellhounds that might be in there. “That was weird,” she thought. “If this is a dream, it’s a doozy. But what if it’s not?” Eleanor had always said she needed to see something to believe it, and she had just seen two different afterlives. “Hmm.” She pushed the thought from her mind and kept looking for a way home. She took a small step and heard a low snarl. Panicking, Eleanor grabbed the first doorknob she found and opened the door. As she slammed it behind her, the sign hanging above it reading “Underworld” fell off.
Eleanor hit the hard, rocky ground on the other side of the door. A wide river flowed in front of her. The water looked like tar. It was pitch black and moved slowly. The few trees had burnt bark and blackened, withered leaves.
On the other side of the river was a vast field of dirt and rocks. A small dock protruded into the dark water. A boat was tied to the dock, and a man in a black cloak stood inside it. He turned to Eleanor and asked, “Passage?”
“Oh, uh…sure.” Eleanor answered.
The man held out his hand.
Eleanor waited.
My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences? My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences?
The man cleared his throat.
Eleanor looked at him.
He blinked at her.
“What?” asked Eleanor.
“It’s not free,” he said.
“Oh, right,” Eleanor said, fishing through her pockets. Her fingers closed around the shiny penny that she had found on the street.
“Will this do?” she asked.
The man accepted the penny and stepped aside. Eleanor climbed in. He untied the boat and started rowing across the river. “I’m Charon. This is the River Styx.”
“Oh, like the candy! I love Twix!”
“Styx.”
“Sticks, like twigs?”
“Not Twix, Styx, like Sticks. You know, sticks.” Eleanor looked across the river and saw a massive three-headed dog snarling and growling. Each neck had a pink sparkly collar. Eleanor wanted to get off the boat and away from that dog. She tried to distract herself by asking Charon questions.
“So who lives here?”
“Mostly dead Greeks from way back. We have a few residents from other places, but mostly those who believed in the Greek gods. We stopped getting new residents a couple thousand years ago. You’re the first one in a while.”
“Oh, I’m not staying,” said Eleanor. “I’m just passing through.”
“Yeah, that’s not how it works. Once you’re here, you’re here forever. Cerberus will see to that.”
“Well, I don’t really believe in—“
“Some things are true whether you believe in them or not."
As the boat approached the shore, Eleanor saw the names on the tags hanging from the necks of the three-headed dog. One said “Cer,” one said “Ber,” and the third said “Us.” She gulped as the boat pulled up to the dock. She reluctantly got off the boat, then turned around to Charon.
“Wait—“
The boat had already pulled away and was disappearing into the darkness. Eleanor stepped back and her foot came down on a twig. When it snapped, all three of Cerberus’ heads turned toward her. Then all three began barking. Eleanor ran. But there was nowhere to go. The only way to escape Cerberus was to jump in the river and swim. She jumped in. The current was strong and it started to pull her under. She struggled to keep her head above the surface, but she was so tired and she couldn’t fight it.
“No, I can’t drown. This isn’t real! There’s no afterlife. No Hell or Helheim or Underworld. I’m asleep in my bed and this is all just a figment of my imagination.”
“Nope!” Charon’s voice called out from the misty darkness. “You’re definitely dead and this is definitely not where you want to be dead.”
As Eleanor’s head dipped beneath the surface, she thought she heard him say,
“Bet you wish you had believed in something, huh? Especially something better than this! Wait! What is Twix?”
“Where is she?” asked Jerry. “Why do we keep losing her?”
The security team was furiously trying to seal off afterlives.
“There are too many, sir,” said the security chief. “Too many beliefs and too many afterlives. We just can’t keep up.”
Eleanor opened her eyes. She was in a beautiful garden. In the center of the garden stood a tall tree with long, arching boughs. An elephant stood watch over the garden.
“Where am I?” wondered Eleanor. She was bothered by this dream she was having. It seemed to be going on for a very long time. And she was kind of starting to feel like a little bit of a jerk. Had she been too judgmental or close-minded? There seemed to be a lot of afterlives and, presumably, a lot of people who believed in them.
“Welcome to Svarga.” Eleanor spun around to see a kind man smiling at her. He wore a long robe in rich yellows and blues. “I am Tvashtar.”
“What’s that now?” Eleanor asked.
“Svarga is the Hindu version of the place you go when you die,” he explained. “Your last stop before you are reincarnated.”
“Reincarnated?”
“Yes. To begin a new life. The hope is that over time you will make better choices than ones you made in the past.”
“Did I make bad choices?” Eleanor asked.
“What do you think?” he asked. Eleanor thought about it. She tried to be a good person. She donated to charity at the holidays, she was always kind to people, and she kept her less-than-positive thoughts to herself. Still, she thought, maybe having those less-thanpositive thoughts isn’t the best way to be in the world. She suddenly felt a little ashamed. She looked down at her feet.
“I think I might have been the tiniest tad judgmental.”
“Perhaps.”
“Maybe I wasn’t as open-minded as I could have been.”
“Hmm.”
“I mean, we all have flaws, right?”
Tvashtar said nothing.
“I, uh, I suppose I could have been a wee bit more tolerant of people’s different beliefs.”
Silence.
“I guess I tend to think my way is the best way. Or the only way.”
Nothing.
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
“OKAY! I’M THE WORST! I’M A HORRIBLE, JUDGMENTAL JERK! I’M GONNA DIE ALONE AND UNLOVED!” Eleanor sank to the ground.
“Those are all… interesting thoughts,” Tvashtar said. “I don’t think you’re a horrible person, and I hate to break it to you, but you are already dead. However, I think there’s always room for each of us to strive to be better versions of ourselves, yes? It is a big world with many different people and many different beliefs. How could any one of us have all the answers?”
Eleanor wasn’t even sure she’d been asking the right questions. Or any questions at all. So how could she possibly have the only right answer?
“So how does this reincarnation thing work?” she asked. Tvashtar sat down on a stone bench in the garden.
“You don’t have to be reincarnated,” he said. “You can choose where you want to spend eternity.”
“I can?”
“Of course! You can make of your afterlife whatever you want. If you think you deserve to suffer, you can choose from any number of possible painful afterlives.” Eleanor didn’t like the sound of that. “If you think you’ve learned everything you think you need to know, you can choose among the more enjoyable afterlives.”
“But what if I’m not sure where I belong?” asked Eleanor.
“That’s where we come in,” Tvashtar said. “We believe that each life is unfinished and that all of us can and should try again until we feel we’ve mastered becoming our best selves.”
“So I just get to go back and do it again?”
“Sort of. It’s not the same life, but you will struggle with the same challenges. The rest is up to you.” Eleanor kind of liked that idea.
“When would I go?” she asked Tvashtar.
“That, too, is up to you,” he answered. Eleanor closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She nodded.
“I think I’m ready,” she said.
Jerry looked at Markus.
“Pretty nifty trick using the dog to chase Eleanor into the river. Now she can choose her next path. Might even learn something. Guess we won’t have to bust you down to Intake after all.”
Markus beamed.