After-Life

Chapter 1. The Hall of Unlived Opportunities

It was a small gathering that attended Mabel Weaver's funeral. Somber faces shrouded by veils and painted with an array of grey, elongated, drawn expressions; their bodies cloaked and hooded in melancholy black, filled the pews. The dry, glazed eyes of the more senior guests, who had attended such circumstances one too many times; lazily turned to the podium where the vicar, his profession's uniform perfectly accentuating the theme of the room, stood to deliver his eulogy.

"We are all here today, to bear witness to and celebrate the life of Mabel Marionnette Weaver." Vicar Riddly had delivered innumerable sermons. So much so, that he knew his script's words by heart. The only ever-changing item in each instance was the dearly departed's name.
There were a few snuffles and some choked sobs from those who had been close to Mabel, all bunched together on the front pew, uncomfortably. As the first part of his sermon ended, Riddly sat down and allowed the cheap speakers to crackle into life and play a rendition of Those Were the Days My Friend, the haunting voice of Mary Hopkins permeated through the room, falling flat on the jaded audience.

"Oh for...well, this is all rather macabre... Mary Hopkins? Really?!" Mabel puzzled, as she gazed around her assembled friends and family. Never before had she seen them as such! Even when her dad, Peter had left his mortal coil, there had been more laughter and joy. What had she done to warrant such a somber send-off?
The icily cracked tone of a disembodied voice tickled at her ear, "This is usually how funerals go... especially for one so young;" it said, in response to her musings.

Mabel froze and looked around. At least, she tried to look around. It was the funniest thing, really. She could see and observe those around her, but she had no sense of being physically present. Rather, she became more aware that she was a thought of her former self. Therefore, the act of looking around, was more in keeping with the idea that she thought of the concept of looking around, determined that this was more confusing than it should be, and asked out loud instead; "God?"
"If I had a penny for every time..." the sharp voice cackled, not cruelly; "no dear Mabel, I am your chaperone."
"My chaper'..." Mabel's voice drifted off as a vague sense of realisation dawned on her, "Oh! Will you be taking me on to heaven now?" She asked, somewhat intrigued and excited, she'd heard good things about heaven, after all. While she hadn't been a strict attendee of the church in her living days, she had always appreciated the architecture and soporific beauty that she had grown to attribute to the omnipotent teachings.

The cackle grew louder. Mabel shivered somewhat. Again, it wasn't that the sound was one of merciless cruelty. Instead, it seemed as though the owner of the voice was trying to convey a friendly chuckle but had long ago forgotten that such a jolly sound should caress and tickle one's ears, rather than mimic a magpie's call coming from a raven's throat.
"Alas, Mabel, only those who attended church regularly; only skipping days for ill health or personal matters, get the first-class pass to the golden gates." The chaperone explained, calmly; "For many, like yourself – there's a bit of a journey to take."
"Oh Lord..." Mabel muttered, "I've never been one for a hike." She chewed at her bottom lip nervously, (sorry) she thought of the motion of gnawing on her non-existent bottom lip.

The sound of a long robe softly dragging across a smooth surface approached Mabel from what she could only determine as being behind her. The delicate touch of a slender hand rested on her shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, Mabel looked down and could see her body materialise into being around her.

She was dressed in a plain white, summery dress. Her pale arms, slender and hairless in the ethereal hue that surrounded her, extended before her and reached out to display her small, delicate hands. She was surprised to find she could feel it! She patted her arms, then poked and prodded at her plump cheeks; combed her fingers through her straight hair, hoping to pull out a few strands so she could see what the ethereal hue was doing to its once chestnut brown colour – but alas, everything was stuck in perfect and pristine place.
"You cannot traverse the relative unknown, without your body in tow," the kind voice spoke.
Mabel turned around and her eyes widened momentarily, before narrowing, questioningly.
"I've seen you before!" She pointed her finger accusingly.