After-Life

Chapter 27. Purgatory

Mabel's eyes snapped open. Desperately, she tried to rub them. Not again!

Mabel had gotten so used to being back in a physical body, her mind had been all too happy to dismiss the surreal sensation that stemmed from no longer being behind the wheels of a fleshy form; but instead, a wispy thought, stuck in the ether. The space around her was pitch black. The air was still, and there was a sense of stagnation that seemed to want to gnaw at her soul's boundaries. She yearned to be able to swipe it away.

"Thet!" She tried to call, yet her soul had no form and as such, no sound came out. The surge of emotions that coursed through her were overwhelming! If she were human, Mabel had no doubt in her mind she'd be clamouring for Thet, Kristoph, Eric – heck, even Asmodeus would have gained a mention or two! The thought of shivering internally hit her, and Mabel reasoned that as a lingering soul, she had no flesh and bone diminishing the raw sting of grief that her thoughts and feelings projected.

'I need to keep calm', she cursed herself, harshly. 'Thet or Asmodeus will be around soon, this must be that hall that Thet took me to when we first met!' Ideas and inspiration came to mind as she reflected on that first meeting. There had been frames in that space. What had Thet called it? The Hall of Unlived Opportunities? Maybe, if she could get to one of those frames, she could try and gain his attention from an alternative life! The idea fizzled into nothing just as quickly as it had come into being however, plans of action meant nothing if she had no body to conduct itself in the way she wanted.

Slowly, a strong surge of despair started to build up within her. Fighting back the urge to panic, Mabel forced herself to take stock of the situation at hand. What did she know for sure? Well, she could see, which meant she must have eyes. Cautiously, Mabel tried to blink. Nothing. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an advanced thought, at this early stage.
'Why is it so dark?' Mabel mused to herself. 'If I am in the Hall of Unlived Opportunities, where are all the candle sconces that had sputtered into life when Thet took me there?' The nagging mouth that had been chewing at the back of her mind finally tore a gap large enough to break through to the forefront of her thoughts. 'What if this is limbo? The space between life and death?'

"Mother?" A deep and husky voice spoke from the shadows.
Mabel's soul froze to its core. It was like it had sensed the danger before it had made itself known. She focused on the echo around her and mulled on the after-effect of the voice's sound. It wasn't unfriendly, more so one that clearly hadn't expected anyone to swing by any time soon. Mabel's fight or flight senses were screaming at her to run, yet the physical capacity to conduct such an action was outside of her control.
'Keep it together,' she internally scolded herself; 'yes, you're at a disadvantage here. That doesn't mean you can't get an upper hand in some way, shape or... did it call me mother?'

The title stung, like a slap delivered by a bejewelled hand that had mastered the art of delivering a smack so vile it left a handprint and scratches, that would last for days.
'Mother?' She mused on the word, why did it feel so alien and yet so familiar, at once?
The sound of shackles and shuffling feet approached her, from what direction though it was hard to tell. Apparently, sound echoed differently in this space. There was no up, no down, no left and certainly no right.

"What did you do to warrant being brought here, mother?" The voice spoke again.
Mabel felt that if she had a body, she'd been frowning and reaching out maternally in response to the owner of it. The question wasn't one full of sneer and mockery, rather it was one of intrigue, curiosity, disbelief and just a hint of concern. The shackles clinked softly in the darkness, as though the bounded being was uncertain of whether to approach any further.
'How can I speak out, if I have no voice?' Mabel groaned internally.
All she wanted was to reach out to the speaker. She couldn't help herself. They sounded so familiar, and she could feel a distant longing and yearning, sensations she'd not experienced anything like for as long as she could recall.
The shuffling and clunk of a heavy chain drew closer, and if Mabel tuned her attention carefully, she could make out the shallow and nervous breathing of a figure just in front of her. There was a sharp intake of breath, as the figure gasped sharply.
"Who took your form?" It croaked, "is this another form of torture? To be so close to her once more, yet not have her here to hold?" The voice broke pitifully.
'I've never been a mother' Mabel thought to herself.
She and Kristoph had not yet had the chance to be physical with one another so there was no way that she could have possibly conceived... wait. No. In the recesses of her mind a memory came to life.