Scattered Scribblings

Leah struggled to keep up with the tall robed man as he strode down the narrow corridor.  Between the white walls and bright lights, she almost had to squint.  Evenly-spaced identical doors lined the walls on both sides. There was no end in sight and Leah wondered how much further she would have to walk.

About the time Leah thought she couldn’t take any more without a rest, her guide stopped in front of one of the doors.  He opened it and gestured for her to follow him through.

The room that she entered was the opposite of the hallway. While it had been dazzlingly bright and antiseptic, this room was lit only by flickering candlelight. Tables and shelves of all sorts occupied the room. Every surface was covered in candles of varying shapes, sizes and colors, and all but a few of them were lit.  It was mesmerizing to watch the dancing of all of the flames. A smile crept onto Leah’s face.

Her companion gestured around the room.

“Choose,” he said.

She looked at him, confused. “Choose?”

“Yes, choose. Any three.”

How to decide from among so many? She walked slowly through the room, enjoying the warm glow from the candles. Her eye was caught by two that stood beside each other on a rustic wooden table. One was tall and thin, the color of honey. Its neighbor was short and round and smelled a little of coffee.  They somehow reminded her of her parents. She smiled and pointed to them.

“And the third?” His voice was low and soft, almost a whisper.

After meandering again through the room, she indicated her third choice. It looked to have once been a tall white taper, but a large puddle of melted wax congealed at its base, as though it had been burning for some time.

“You have made your choices.  Very well.” The robed man stepped over to the pair of candles she had first selected and pinched the flames out, then moved to the third and did the same.

“Follow me.” He beckoned to Leah and led her back out into the bright corridor.

Leah had no clue what any of this was about, but it somehow had a feeling of ritual, of ceremony.

“What was that room? What were all those candles for?”

He did not turn to face her as he spoke. 

“Each candle represents a person in this world. The flames are the soul, the life. And each life in that particular room is one that touches yours in some manner.”

“Those candles were all for people I know?”

He nodded.

And he had snuffed them out so easily, as if it were nothing. She shuddered and felt a little sick to her stomach.  Who could they have been?

Leah awoke with a start. Her heart was racing. She looked at the clock – 6am.  It was all a dream. She breathed deeply and tried to calm down. It wasn’t worth going back to sleep, as the alarm would go off at 6:15. She got out of bed and jumped in the shower. 

The bus was crowded and noisy. Leah could barely hear her audiobook playing through her headphones, so she turned it off and put the headphones in her work bag. She hated riding the bus – too many people – but her car had refused to start, so here she was.

Traffic seemed to be moving like molasses this morning. Leah overheard someone telling their neighbor that they had read something about a nasty accident that morning and thought that must be what was slowing things down.

They were stopped at a light and she idly looked at the crowd of faces. It made her think of the candles from her dream last night. Then, just as the bus started to move, she spotted him. He wasn’t wearing the robe, but it was definitely the man from her dream and he was looking right at her.  When their eyes met, he gave a slight nod and turned to walk back into the crowd.

She was still trembling when she got off of the bus. It took all of her focus to put one foot in front of the other and not get lost as she walked the rest of the way to work.

When she finally reached her desk, Leah sank down into her chair, relieved to be off of her unsteady legs. She took her phone out of her bag and saw that she had several missed calls from her sister.  It was unlike Alyssa to call her at this time of day, so she immediately called back.

“Leah, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!” Alyssa sobbed into the phone. “They’re dead. Mom and dad were taking Grandma Rose to the hospital and a drunk driver smashed into them and they’re all dead. Who’s driving drunk at 6am?”

“Did you say 6am?”

“Yes, but what does it matter what time? They’re dead!” Alyssa wailed.

But it did matter. It mattered very much. Because if that’s when they died, it meant that it wasn’t the drunk driver’s fault, not really.  It was Leah’s fault, because she had chosen the candles.