Celine: August 7th 2008

Celine meets Tessa in Mason's attic. There she learns about missions and her death.

Celine

 August 7th 2008

Chapter 1

Death. The reality of it isn't what's been captured in movies and there is only a slight truth behind the words typed on cream pages of books. They tell of the fluffy clouded Heaven and the fiery sentencing of Hell, but even that is only part of the truth. That common factor does exist but there's a step that you have to take before you earn the chance to even view those options.

"This is some sick joke" the curly haired female traced her own face in the mirror. The identical emerald eyes read each other. "Soon someone will pinch me and I'll wake up in a cold sweat...or...or?" She stuttered as I watched from the center of the attic. "Where are the cameras?" Her eyes burned with accusation.

It was like a rerun of my favorite television show. I could almost predict everything in the order at which it would come and I could pick up loose words from dialogue  to finish the sentences. The only difference was the main character but I loved it all the same. It's not that I liked to watch others drown in their confusion and agony. That was the worst part. I liked it because It helped me remember my first day of afterlife.

"You're laughing," I was smiling but I didn't argue with the new character. "It's like one of those prank television shows. I won't even provide pleasure for your sick mind; I'll just sit here quiet." With wide eyes the new addition sat on the edge of a dusty chest, staring at her leg shaking violently. Surprisingly, she was quiet.

"Are you calmed down?" I spoke softly anticipating that any loud noise or wrong word would set her off like a painful memory that you make yourself believe is forgotten. In reality it's just packed away in a corner of your mind and any noise or image could bring the past back to the present.

"I was never not calm," her words were as sharp as her glaring eyes. Their color was soothing grass on a summer's day but I could see the intensity wading in the pools of green. 

"Okay, " I hesitated, "Let me rephrase and try again. Are you ready to listen?"

The girl's eyes bore into me as she stood again and began pacing "See the cameras you mean? How are you disgusting people allowed to do this? The jokes on you, you can't fake a death from the outside," A dry uncertain laugh escaped "idiots."

"Guess not," I sank agaisnt the wall again and let my mind wander back to the beginning of my end as my show became dull. 

Finally, I gave up on trying to remember. Trying to recapture the day was the five thousand piece puzzle stuck in my mind. I had all the edges set in place but there were too many open spaces in between the edges and not enough pieces. I was tired of trying to find the other missing pieces and left it sitting there for another day when I'd have more center ones.

The show became a silent movie and instead I began examining the girl who's name i still hadn't discovered. The first thing I noticed were her celery green eyes against her brown skin that seemed to be as soft as you could imagine clouds were. Her hair was a bit darker than her skin and travelled a bit farther than her shoulders. I liked to guess what people were doing before they died and by looking at her attire it seemed as if she'd been doing something almost important. She wore a black shirt, with ruffles down the front outlined in pink, plain black jeans that made the outfit more casual and simple, black heels. A meeting, A wedding rehearsal, a business party, or maybe she just liked to look nice.

When the world's sound appeared again the new lost soul's confusion melted into an apologetic mood but I knew all the steps and this wasn't the last one.

"Sorry," she looked as if she were waving her white flag but I knew it was only temporary.

In silence I stared from across the room at her leaning against the wooden walls. Her eyes were relaxed and lighter but I knew the rampage wasn't over yet; it was too soon. I could almost see the words and questions resting on her full lips. 

My observations were correct, "How can you tell someone they're dead and expect them to believe you? They would have to be dumber than you," she began moving again. "I'm not buying it so I guess the show's over, huh?"

I could almost see the silence filling in the empty spaces of the room. I watched as the newest soul bit at her nails and stared me straight in the eye. She expected me to give the answers she wanted and I couldn't do that.

"This isn't a joke is it?" Her face was indifferent when she spoke. This was the finale that ended every episode.

I listened as her sniffles disappeared into her hands covering her face. With patience, I waited for her to pull herself together before I stepped in and helped her he rest of the way.

Steadily I moved to the space on the floor beside her and encased her in a friendly hug as a stranger. It was the kind of hug that at your weakest point, could still make you believe everything was going to be alright. "Are you ready?" My voice trembled and wasn't as secure as my actions, but she heard that small amount of confidence that slipping between my words.

Her eyes were now a melancholy green that tugged at my heart, "Do I really have a choice?"

I pondered the idea of smiling even though I wanted to show her more comfort than just my words and my embrace. The dilemma was: I'd seen this girl react and over-react and I wasn't sure what mixed message she would receive.

"Not really a choice because you'd find out one day," I felt all she needed was a "welcome" mat so I smiled, "But you do have time," My last words helped her to walk right through.

The smell of fresh Belgian waffles and syrup mixed with the silent whispers of the nonliving. I held the soul's hand and dragged her around the house.

"So this is home?" She spoke silently as if she were afraid of being heard.

"For now," I let her get a glimpse of each room. "You can give yourself a better tour later," I was looking for Mason as I responded and looked into each room.

"For now?" She stopped as she questioned me, but I kept walking. "What do you mean for now?" She was full of questions.

"I'll explain everything later," The scent of breakfast and the air of a summer Saturday greeted us when I found him in the kitchen. "See that guy sitting at the table? He's the owner of this house, Mason Siskel."

Watching her turn up her mouth in disgust, gave me her first impressions before she even spoke. "And why does that matter? I've never even seen him before."

I was irritated by her pre-judging, "Doesn't matter. You're here so you obvoiusly have something to learn, acknowledge-"

"Or teach?" She rudely interrupted me.

"There's not much a dead person can teach to a living one," my words were sharper than I planned them to be.

"I'm sure there's nothing he could teach me."

When she turned to see me, I looked towards Mason so she wouldn't know I'd been staring at her. In my opinion she took in his appearance and already had him painted in her head. I understood he wasn't the most attractive but he was only a little rough looking. Maybe a little below average. Were looks all that really mattered?

"Maybe not to be so judgemental," I spoke to myself under my breath.

I didn't make sure she was following me as I turned away from the kitchen and ventured down the hall and up the stairs. Annoyed, I paced the bedroom I'd stepped into.

A few moments later I heard her, "Where are you?" The voice was disant.

Slowly, I went outside of the room and peered over the banister, "Up here in the bedroom."

As soon as she walked into the room, she began turning in cirlcles taking in the music and art awards that probably meant nothing to her.

"Here's the deal. You're to stay here during the daytime-"

"Why? Am I like a prisoner now?"

I didn't expect her to just listen so I relaxed and let her complain and assume. 

"May I finish?" Her face was indiferrent and her mouth was shut, so I continued. "This is because we can't be noticed. Over the years more people have detected our presence and we have two worlds that shouldn't collide. Very few of them can actually see us and the ones that can't, can see anything we interact with. Keep that in mind. You are allowed to leave at night," I stopped as her lips parted a little. "Any questions?"

Shockingly, she shook her head 'no.'

"The reason you are here isn't really known by me, but you do have a clue to help you figure it out. You were sent to this house after your death which means it has something do with Mr. Siskel. He's part of your mission. Missions are used as almost a last chance to prove yourself. Every soul has a mission to complete and it could be to apologize for something, accept an apologogy, do something you've never done, anything. It's eliminating anything that would keep your soul from resting in peace. And you have to follow your heart to complete it, to reach your judgement day."

Her mouth opened and I sat back ready for a storm, "Is there a time-span?" But her words were far from what I was expecting. Even her tone had settled and became easier to cope with.

"Kind of. It depends on if you're actually trying," I attempted to explain as best I could and it helped that she was becoming a lot easier to work with.

"What happens if you never really try?" 

My reply was cold, but it fit. "You're sent straight to Hell without a judgement day. If you at least try to complete your mission it could push you into the Book of Life if you're in the middle of Heaven and Hell. Your name could be no where in the book and your fate could be Hell, but your mission could change everything."

"So you're dead too," The new soul pasued and swallowed, "right?"

"Yes I am," I offered another soothing smile to make her notice that the Afterlife wasn't as bad she imagined.

"So where are our wings?" This was another subject I wasn't sure I wanted to let her start.

"Well miss," I spared myself by changing the topic.

"Tessa Kasabian, and you are?" The new soul reached out her hand.

I took it, "Celine Joles," I hoped she would drop the question but her silence told me she was waiting for the answer.

"We have to earn them," I answered shortly. 

"So you're still earning your wings?" She seemed interested as she questioned me but this wasn't a subject I was comfortable explaining to her.

"No, I'm still completing my mission," I don't know why, but i was afraid of admitting it.

Her knowing that we were leveled would only give her more reason to interrogate me.

"Am I part of your mission?" She was still harmless even after knowing my status.

"Well," I began, "I'm your mentor in a way. I'm a travelling soul and I was called to be your mentor. Usually the spirits, or the people that have already passed judgement, are called to mentor the souls. I'm just a mere travelling soul, but I'm sure I could help you with anything you need." 

"What's a travelling soul?" 

"My job is a lot harder. I don't get any clues, people, or anything besides a mentor to tell me that I have to complete a mission. I just have to rely on my heart completely. I was never told why some of us were travelling souls and others had the easier job. Maybe it has something to do with the way we died or the life we lived. Who knows? Not us. All I can do is hope that I'm doing this right," I stopped rambling.

"So we never know what our mission is?" Tessa wondered.

"Not until you complete it," I was tired of answering all of her questions.

Tessa turned back to reading the awards and I silently slipped away, marking her down for another visit soon.

"So how long have you been dead?" I heard the question and was glad that I got away when I did.

As I skipped down the stairs, I thought of death's new victim having to find her way. I envied her because she was still a young soul. She still had time and a chance stuck in her pocket. I imagined my time in an hourglass bottle and could see my sand hanging by it's fingertips at the top.

The kitchen was empty but I found Mason watching his own television program in the living room.(Possibly something about not knowing about them in his house.) I stopped and took a mental picture. I was least jealous of Mason because he had a life, and with a life came pain. As souls we have feelings but no true pain. When you pass away so do your worries and that's why they use "Rest In Peace" on tombstones. Everything is finally given a break.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar and spelling. I don't like using word because it makes me lazy when I go back and edit. Also, ignore things that are like underlined and in parentheses, those are kind of notes to myself because I'll probably be changing this later.
Questions: Is this a good start? Should I do the things that I'm thinking about (in the parentheses and stuff). Is it confusing?

Reviews

[R. H. Watson]

Is it a good start? Yes.
Is it confusing? Yes, but despite that, I could follow the story. The important thing is, you don't seem confused. This reads like a first draft where you're making up the story and telling it to yourself. I'd say, keep going, don't look back, and don't worry about telling the story well to other people until you start the second draft.
What about the things in parentheses? My rule is, if I'm thinking about writing something, I write it. I can always cut it if it doesn't work, but the only way to know is to write it.