VisDare – The Waiting Lady

Yvonne found herself seated in a chair in the midst of a sea of chairs. The chairs all looked alike, all unassuming in appearance, some were occupied while many were empty. The day was hot with the chairs situated directly below the angry glare of the afternoon sun. Fortunately, Yvonne had her hat with her. She straightened her skirt and took out her kit as people’s names were being called one after the other. Yvonne started on the sweater. Whose sweater though? For the life of her, Yvonne couldn’t remember. She started to knit as she waited for her turn…

The sun rode down the length of the sky until its bottom touched the dry, brown earth of Nowhere. Yvonne was halfway done with the sweater by this time and it was also around this time when her name was called. She looked up, looked around, and saw she was the only one left. Every single chair had been vacated and the silence unnerved her a bit. The voice called her name again. Yvonne hurriedly packed her kit, folded the halfway done sweater, and quickly walked to the front where a man behind a table sat waiting.

The man had white hair that stuck out in every direction. He wore a white robe that flowed down all around him. “Yvonne Zsasz?” He repeated, his eyes on a thick book filled with microscopic words. Yvonne wondered how the man, in his age, could read those tiny letters. The man cleared his throat and looked at Yvonne. “Are you Yvonne Zsasz?”

“Yes…sir. Yes, I am,” she answered, removing her hat and holding it to her chest.

The man smiled, flashing yellow dentures, and spread his arms wide. “Welcome! Welcome!. You’re the last one for today, eh?”

“I think so, yes, I am…sir,” Yvonne answered.

“Well, well, well,” the man went back to his book and started searching for something. “Yvonne. Hmmm…”

Yvonne tried to steal a peek but the letters were too small for her eyes.

“Here we are. Your name’s listed on the bus riding to the First Sphere. Chop chop, missy! Bus will leave shortly.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Yvonne said. Then, after a bit of hesitation, “if you don’t mind my asking, sir. Where am I? I think I might have fallen asleep and when I woke up I was seated in one of those chairs. Is this a dream…sir?”

“Why, you’re in Purgatory, missy. You’re dead.”

Yvonne thought the man to be jesting but the old man’s face had no traces of kidding around. “Dead…sir?” Yvonne said.

“Yes! You’re dead. Flatlined. Pushing daises. Kicked the bucket.” The man started enumerating. “You died of hypothermia. Car broke down in the middle of the road on a snowstorm and you, missy, foolishly went out to look for help.”

Yvonne started to remember fragments but something seemed to pull the memories away from her.

“Don’t just stand there. The bus to the First Sphere is waiting for you.”

“First Sphere…sir?”

“The moon, Yvonne! You’re headed to the moon!”