I wake up with my clothes on even though I hung them in the wardrobe yesterday. The yellow sweater, the brown skirt with the suspenders and the black tights. Everything is exactly the way they were before I took them off. Even the dark brown boots are on, the shoelaces are tied in a ribbon. I guess this is yet another thing that happens when you die, stuck in all eternity with the same clothes you had the day you died. I could be worse, I tell myself.
I slightly pull the brown skirt, I can't feel the material against my fingers. I can't even think of how it used to feel. There's a memory there somewhere, like when you have a word that you forgot on the tip of your tongue.
I pull up my sleeve and pinch myself, I still feel nothing. Not the feeling of skin against my fingers nor the pain. I pinch harder, nothing happens. Not even a mark is left when I let go. I sigh and get up from the bed and leave the cover pushed against the wall.
Breakfast. I'm not hungry and probably never will be again. Clover had said that they still ate, maybe they still do it so they can keep some of their humanity left one way or another. To make it feel normal, like it did when we were alive.
I don't feel like eating, but if I can sleep without being tired, I can eat without feeling hunger. Besides, Clover is waiting for me, he had told me he would show me the dining hall. I can't keep myself locked into the room for all eternity even though that is what I would prefer.
I stand next to the pinboard on the other side of the room and try to ignore the eternal rain on the outside. I look at the photographs.
I – Jonna. Dad – Mikael. Sister – Emma.
I repeat it many times. I recognize them and know who they are. All of my memories are still here, nothing is missing from what I knew and could remember from yesterday. I sigh of relief and continue to study the photographs and repeat their names. I think of some memories from my childhood, the forest me and Emma had been in the day I died, of how my dad carved faces of trolls in trees. I move on to the notes, I don't have any photographs of my mom, but I read the notes multiple times and imagine how she looks like.
It feels like if I close my eyes I'll wake up in my apartment in Gothenburg and everything has been a dream. It's a hopeless wish.
I force myself to reach the wooden door, on the other side of the darkness there's no soul wanderers in the labyrinth of corridors. I hadn't seen anyone yesterday either, it had been just as lonely as today. I close the door and I realize I can't actually hear the sounds of a smalltown on the outside, like the strange world I walked into doesn't exist on the outside of this building.
It doesn't take a long time to find my way out of the labyrinth of corridors, there's a feeling that tells me what way to head so I can reach the Eleven again. Clover is outside of the building leaning towards the wall, he doesn't look annoyed so he can't have waited too long. The eleven looks like it did yesterday, with its dark blue grass and the black stone slabs that covers the street and with its black-pink glass sky. It doesn't feel as beautiful today, now it's like we're in a glass globe and can't get out.
I force a smile for Clover, but it never reaches my eyes.
"Breakfast," he says, "I'm going to show you the dining hall."
Clover seems to be done with whatever he did yesterday, since he doesn't look as tense.
In my thoughts I repeat my name over and over again while we walk up the small hill covered in the black stone slabs. Clover leads us to narrow streets with tall but slim houses of white stone, they must have been the roofs I had seen behind the trees at the crescent-shaped stairs. Creatures walks past us and some of them nods as a greeting. I also see other soul wanderers, from many different centuries. It feels strange to see so many different styles on people, like they don't actually dress like that and all this is cosplay. I know better, definitely since I stare at Clover's back. He looks just as strange as the rest of them, with his coal-marked and torn clothes.
Clover stops at one of the tall houses that looks like it will fall apart any second.
"I guess this is the dining hall?" I ask and I'm not at all impressed.
"Never judge the outer appearance here. You should have realized by now that nothing is as it should," he says and opens the door without knocking.
It leads to another whirling darkness. When the door closes the corridor is filled with light, the darkness curls upwards and lies like a cloud against the ceiling. The bronze-colored walls are bare except for the old gate in the middle of the corridor.
"You share the dining hall with the Twelve."
"The Twelve?" I ask.
"The twelfth door, the twelfth world."
"How many worlds are there?"
It had been hundreds of doors in the darkened corridor. We had stepped right into the middle of it and it was hard to see how many where there. All these doors lead to another world. Do they all look like this, confined in this black-pink glass globe with dark blue grass and strange trees or do some of them look normal?
Clover stops at the gate. "Many. The Eleven and the Twelve belongs to First."
"First of what?"
Clover gives me a side glance that says you ask too much, yet he answers me. "First is a guardian. Whether he is the first guardian I do not know. He names his soul wanderers and worlds after numbers."
Orchid is not such a bad name anymore, could have been worse. A number would have made me feel more like an experiment, like I didn't have the right to an identity. Orchid has a meaning and connection; it was the flowers I gave my dad on his funeral. Flowers that he loved, maybe I can accept this name eventually.
"The rest of the worlds are named after the other guardians. There are a few that aren't named after them. Not even the guardians know where those names come from, at least that's what they say." He wrinkles his nose and puts his hands on the large door handles. "I have a hard time believing that. How wouldn't they know where their own worlds' names came from?"
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Clover opens the door and we're yet again met with darkness, on the other side of it there is a massive hall, it's more beautiful than what the outside of this building could have you believe. In the middle of the room there are three long and narrow, white tables with very tall chairs, the back of them ends far above the soul wanderers' head. There's no table with a buffet, nor fridges or freezers. The walls are covered in strange, colorful paintings. Some of them filled with gemstones that create landscape or what looks like people dressed in eye-catching outfits.
"Where's the food?" I ask.
"On the table."
When we arrive at the tables one of them folds itself out. It crawls over the floor like a beetle and straightens its back. Two chairs grow out on each side. Clover sits down next to a woman with a pale pink hijab, I sit down opposite of Clover and next to a pale man with blonde hair.
"I haven't seen you before," the woman says and gives me a sweet and warm smile.
She wears make up that brings out her black eyes.
"She's new. And my apprentice," clover says, the last words sound a tad bitter.
The woman slaps her hands against the table and stares wide-eyed at him.
"Your apprentice?" she asks and laughs, Clover lowers his eyebrows in protest. "I didn't think you had it in you! They say you haven't had an apprentice in like forty years!"
She reaches out her arm to me, it's covered in a fluffy white shirt. "Artemis."
I shake her hand.
"Orchid," I answer, although I meant to say Jonna.
She let's go of my hand and leans back against the chair and smiles. "That's beautiful."
"Your name is Artemis like the goddess?" I ask.
"Yes, indeed. That goddess, not that I think we have a lot in common, at least of what I've heard." She shakes her head slightly. "Not that there is a lot of logic behind our new names."
"Cerberus names his soul wanderers after names from religion or mythologies," Clover adds.
A plate with food suddenly appears in front of him. Beans, bread, and some cut of meat.
"Cerberus?"
"Another guardian," says Clover, he tears off a bit of the bread and dips it into the beans.
There still is no plate with breakfast in front of me, and when I look around I notice that everyone has different dishes.
"You have to imagine it. See it in front of you," someone says with something hollow in their voice.
I look straight into the blonde man's ice blue eyes. They look similar to Blomst, however these seems emptier. He lifts up his arm and points at my empty section of the table, I can't help but to notice the deep, open cuts on his arms. There's no blood coming from them even though they are almost wide open. Clover had said that the scars of suicide are left on the body, but I wouldn't call these scars.
Before I can thank him, he turns his head away and slowly moves his fork in his own dish, I have a feeling he doesn't want me to say anything. I focus on the table and think about what I want to eat. I think about my bedroom, that whoever made my room had taken my childhood memories and made me recall when things were easier. Then I mostly drank chocolate milk and ate toasts with raspberry jam. I remember the plastic plate with flowers motives that mom used to give to me and my sister.
And there it is, exactly the way I remember it, with the pink and yellow flowers on the side of the plate. On top of it lays two toasts with raspberry jam and next to it there's a glass with chocolate milk. Clover has raised an eyebrow for my choice of breakfast.
What's the point with eating? We don't have any sensation and to not feel the taste is more of an insult. I stare at the toasts with jam, and I try to remember how it tasted when I was a child.
"Orchid," Artemis says.
She has a little smile on her lips, it's not the same as the one before, because that one reached her eyes.
"Taste and you'll see."
I bite off a piece of the toast and I drop the rest and it hits the plate. I can feel the taste. It feels strange against my tongue, like it's sealed in plastic but somehow the taste is still here. It tastes exactly the way it tasted when I was little. I bring my hand to my mouth and widened my eyes. Clover is grinning when he cuts a piece of the meat and Artemis is smiling again, this time it's reaching her eyes. I finally understand why they eat even though they don't feel any hunger.
"It's a little hard to get used to not feeling anything, but we do have the taste left. That's something to value," Artemis says.
I nod while I eagerly gobble down the food.
"An apprentice," says Artemis and smiles at Clover who rolls his eyes at her. "That explains why you're eating with us today."
"Don't you normally eat?"
"Yes, I do eat. But I don't belong in the Eleven or the Twelve."
I take a sip of the chocolate milk.
"He belongs to the Oak," Artemis adds. "And that world belongs to Blomst, not First."
Clover cuts the piece of meat again. "And I have to say I prefer eating in the Oak's dining hall."
Artemis scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief. "Why? It's like eating in the middle of a forest. With every chair and table being more like trees than they should be, and not to speak of all the plants and birds that chirps day in and day out."
"But that's the charm with the Oak."
Clover talks surprisingly much and doesn't seem as curt and annoyed when he's around Artemis.
"Besides," Artemis says and puts a hand to her chest, "the Oak doesn't have as interesting soul wanderers as the Eleven."
"Don't be so certain of that. There are many interesting soul wanderers." Clover grins and reaches over to her plate with his fork. "Maybe you're right, the Oak does not after all have any food from Kuwait."
Artemis slaps Clover's hand and he pulls it back. He doesn't show any irritation of the sudden action, instead he laughs. Then he smiles, not a grin but a real smile that reaches his eyes.
"Maybe if you ask next time, you'll have better luck. You'll have to eat your own food," she says and a playful smile sneak upon her mouth.
"That's too bad," he chuckles.
"You just have to learn to ask, Clover," she says.
His smile dies out when he notices I'm staring at them with a small smirk and raised eyebrows. He moves his gaze away from both me and Artemis.
He knew I noticed that there isn't just a friendship between them. First I thought it was beautiful that love could find its way even after death, but then I realize that maybe it's not that simple. They can't even feel each other's touch.
The big gate opens and a skeleton comes out of the darkness. Just like Wolf-skull it has a human skeleton and an animal skull, this time it's a deer and large antlers reaches out over its head. It's dressed in brown rags and when it walks it makes a sound of bone moving against each other.
The blonde man puts away his cutlery when Deer-skull comes closer. It doesn't feel as creepy as Wolf-skull, it seems gawkier.
"Nine," says Deer-skull and the voice is lighter than I had predicted, but the insecurity I had expected.
The blonde man – whose name apparently is Nine – looks up at the skeleton. Deer-skull moves the bony fingers in the rags' pockets and pulls forward a brown paper that it gives Nine. I have enough time to read a part of it before he puts it in his pocket.
SUICIDE HARVEST-CONTRACT: LUCY MILLER
SOUL WANDERER: NINE
I want to sigh of relief. I know it's awful that I'm happy that the girl's name on the paper isn't Emma.
Nine gets up, sweeps his gaze over us before he follows Deer-skull. The chair and breakfast have disappeared.
"I thought you got the harvest-contract from the guardians," I say as the gate closes.
I doubt that Deer-skull is one of the guardians, it's too frail and doesn't have the same feeling of power that Blomst has. It's most likely the same kind of creature that Wolf-skull is.
"Regular harvest-contracts are handled by the guardians," Clover says while he stares at the gate. "A death is almost always part of destiny, so the guardians already know of it before it happens."
"Years before it happens," Artemis adds.
"A suicide," Clover continues, "is never planned. They cannot know when it will happen. Such a contract can happen whenever."
The rest of the breakfast is relatively quiet, like both Clover and Artemis don't have anything else to say after what just happened.
I shut out the thoughts of what it means to constantly take care of souls that willingly ended their lives.