come on baby, light my fire*

Pince found a beautiful garden full of different kinds of grasses and strange plants. Some had triangle shaped flowers that tinkled like tiny chimes when the wind blew or others that were shaped like trees made of glass revealing the process of photosynthesis. And there were small silvery, furry plants that budded close to the ground like a pile of paisley and a cilantro plant so large it drooped overhead like a weeping willow. Narrow paths wound around drawing her into the garden, doubling up on themselves, ending in the middle of fields of swaying wheat. One led her to the foot of a perfectly rectangular and smooth reflection pool. The water was dark and reflected the sky and mountains as perfectly as a photograph. She stared at the glassy surface, so deeply entranced, she didn't react when a ghostly white hand slowly reached out of the water, grabbed her ankle, and then swiftly pulled her in.


Her head hit the rocks along the edge of the pool as she was pulled in and she wondered if it was a serious injury. Are there serious injuries in heaven and can you die once you're already dead? It seemed as though she could hear the muted sounds of a Mexican Polka echoing through the water. Pince was being pulled quickly, foot first, towards the center of the reflection pool, only, it didn't seem like they could still be in the pool anymore, it hadn't been particularly large and she was still being dragged. Judging by the sight of the sun shining through the surface, they couldn't be much deeper than twenty feet. On they went and soon she felt the floor suddenly dropped away beneath her. The vast ocean was now yawning below.


It was hard to get a look at whomever or whatever was pulling her. Once she tried to sit up but only succeeded in giving herself whiplash. At least she wasn't having trouble breathing (did she breathe in heaven?) so Pince relaxed and watched the rays of sun flicker through the waves. Once, when she was alive, while riding in a truck with a boy, he'd told her of all the post-apocalyptic fiction he'd been reading. She asked him what he'd do during an apocalypse. 


"Hide in a fall-out shelter with a supply of food and water, of course."


"I'd want to walk around and watch it all happen, watch as everything reached its end." 


Though truthfully, being mortal she had known her overriding instinct would also be self-preservation. This was a benefit of being dead. She could relax and watch as the good, bad, and reality-shattering things happened, letting go of all self-saving worries.


After a time the vastness diminished, the water became more clear and cliff walls loomed high above on either side. Finally, they stopped and the ghostly being who belonged to the hand that had dragged her through many waters swam around to float next to her. They both looked up at the surface, neither of them said anything. Soon a small dark shape, what must be a very small boat, floated over them, red light flashing about it.


"A funeral pyre," whispered Pince.


"Vikings," said the ghostly being.


Pince looked at it, the underwater ghost, but not a ghost. Solid, translucent, hairless. Some kind of man. "So it really happened? They really sent them out to sea like this?"


"I'm not sure."


"Then what is this we're watching?"


"You ask so many questions."


"I have another, who are you?"


"When you ask so many questions, do the answers fill all the little holes inside?"


"Sometimes. Well, no. Never. Some may fill but more open up. Like a sieve letting all this water pass through me."


"I'm Abel."


"Hello, Abel."




*The Doors