"So," said the gentleman in the grey pinstripe suit with something that reminded her of an ascot around his neck instead of a tie. "Tell me a little about yourself, Rosa."
She always hated that question. She racked her brain before deciding on, "If I had to use three words to describe myself, it's organized, punctual, and reliable." She mentally nodded.
He scribbled something down as he nodded. "Tell me, what do you know about the Land of the Dead?" he asked.
"I know it's where everyone's ancestor's are and where everyone will eventually go," she answered, a slight twinge of unease fluttering against the pit of her gut. "Why?"
He ignored this question. "Have you ever wanted to go there?" The twinge had settled briefly before surging back with something akin to a red hot intensity.
She gripped her messenger bag tightly. "Someday," she answered slowly, carefully, "but not anytime soon. Not if I have any say in it."
Contemplating this, the gentleman said, "Let me show you where you'll be working."
As she rose, she reached into her messenger bag and grabbed her pepper spray firmly. She'd had to use it before so she knew her draw-aim-fire was fast; she just hoped it wouldn't come to that. He lead her down the hall, past the preacher's office. From there, he pulled back the large, heavy, velvet curtains that had always smelled like they'd never been washed. She'd always assumed, based on where it was positioned, that it lead back behind the stage on which the large statues and dozens of candles were. But here before here was a large, multicolored door with a painted skull on it. The designs on the skull were similar to what she'd seen on people on Dia de los Muertos.
As he placed his hand upon the door, the designs began to glow with an eerie light. Two yellow orbs filled the dark sockets of the skull and seemed to study her. He beckoned for her to follow and, hesitantly, she did.
As they stepped towards the door, it opened for them, revealing a simple, if outdated, office. She had trouble moving around due to the multiple stacks of paperwork that were piled in wobbly towers over her head, threatening to topple.
She sat in the chair he indicated, and when she sat across from him, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Instead of the man who'd interviewed her, she was faced with the grinning face of Death.
YOU ARE READING
The Petal Bridge
Fanfiction"It is the duty of a Keeper of the Dead to create and retain the peace and balance between and within the Land of the Dead and the Land of the Living." After finding she is utterly useless at making shoes, Rosa Rivera finds herself in the curious po...
