A Walk Through The Past

After a long conversation with his butler, Capheus and his new friend now enter a town he has never been to before full of wonders, but where does he belong among this sea of new faces?

I was about to be tried? For my lifestyle? For all of the immoral deeds that I have done? Was I going to be sent to a real hell? My eyes flew from the path to his pale and regretful face. He didn’t look at me and he didn’t speak of this ‘trial’ any more. We simply walked in silence for a moment, processing the situation. He obviously didn’t mean to mention the trial because he knew that it would deeply frighten me, so I forgave him. He did not seem or feel like my enemy. He was only a figment of a dream after all. For some odd reason, I felt as though he was the man to trust in this story, not to skepticize.

I turned to the path ahead and kept my eyes on the ground, my heart beating, or was that my heart attempting to beat in reality? In this world, as he had said earlier, the only punishment is leaving. What does that even mean? Is that what he meant by the trial? If you are found guilty of something, you would leave as a punishment? Where would you go? I was eager for answers but I felt as though I should stick to the more important questions.

“How many people live here?” I asked. Great. I asked a question that was kind of useless, but I might as well know how many dead people are still lingering around here. He didn’t so much as care for a glance at me but he answered the question. He seemed troubled about something, whether it be that he said something he probably shouldn’t have or he felt guilty of something that could get in the way of his work. Was mentioning the trial really that damaging to him?

“Oh. About twenty billion by this point. Many people leave but those that stay are fortunate. They can own their own property, enjoy the foods, the company, the scenery, and work just like the living. Although, we always make sure that they aren’t at all displeased. Wouldn’t want to spend an eternity in a place that makes you feel unhappy would you?” I didn’t know whether to smile to that or frown. I decided to keep a straight face and ask the next question. This one was a little trickier for him to answer though.

“When people leave, where exactly do they go?” I questioned. His slight smile now frowned. His face grew long and dreary and his struggle to answer the question was visible. His lips were moving but nothing audible came from his mouth. He was mouthing things that he could say but none of them seemed to suit the part. They were all too faint for me to distinguish. He gave up trying and just smiled, changing the subject to something much more tolerable.

This man couldn’t have been real could he?

“You’re going to enjoy it here. I can tell by the way you look at the people and scenery that you have an eye for this land. The food here is delicious! It’s nothing like the living world! It’s so full of flavor and nutrients and it’s all local. You may be dead but that doesn’t mean you don’t have time left. Here, time is merely a way to tell when you should get something done. You can sleep if you want to, go for a stroll, and enjoy all of the things that you once enjoyed when you were alive. You may rejoice with recently deceased relatives or friends. You name it!” He seemed delighted to explain all of this to me. Friends? Relatives?

Throughout the entirety of my life I had very few friends, let alone respectable relatives. My mother and father were at work most of the time, coming home late either drunk or too tired to so much as say hello or ask how my day has been. My brother was punkass who smoked so much that whenever he spoke to you he would wave his cigarette around in your face. My sister was a drama queen who wanted to become famous and start her own TV show (even though she’s a terrible actress.) Last but not least, my grandparents were dead and I had barely any uncles or aunts.

Even if I did, I have probably never met them. As for friends, I had none when I was a little child, but as I grew I found myself in a small group. We mostly saw each other at school though and whenever my parents came home, I would say goodnight to them, close my laptop, and pretend I was asleep. If my mother or father walked in to see that I was still up, they would become...furious. Beatings weren’t very far off the line either, but I still did it because I wanted to be able to defend myself.

That’s why I started taking martial art classes when I was eight. I wanted to defend myself so that they couldn’t hurt me any longer, but it didn’t actually take any effect until I was twelve and knocked my father to the ground. He never so much as clenched his fists at me after that. Although the shouting continued. The man looked at me curiously, scanning my appearance with his glare, and his face was fixed into a frown.

“Do you have any dead grandmothers or grandfathers? Uncles or aunts? Parents even?” He insisted, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that. Sure, my grandparents died before I was born and it would be interesting to meet them, but what if this really was a dream? I wasn’t sure whether to trust my gut or my senses.

What the hell right?

“My grandparents died before I was born. Otherwise, not that I know of.” He smiled lightly. He seemed so….lively. He was like a christmas tree, switching on and off, lighting up and then turning dark. Tough work that must have been. Perhaps being a butler is much more difficult than I had originally anticipated. He then frowned again, pressing his index finger and thumb to his chin in thought.

“That’s not exactly recent. Your grandparents left a while ago I believe. Not long after you were born actually. I remember walking them along this path together. They seemed very close and they must have loved one another dearly. Unfortunately, they didn’t stay long. Although I can’t say where they both left to.” I wanted to sit and think but I couldn’t keep him waiting for me to process this information. It was all too much for me to take in all at once and I felt a bit sick from it all. I was already sure that he could tell.

“Don’t worry lad,” he began as he stopped me and his face rested into a smile, “You’ll understand everything once we get to the palace. It should all clear up soon enough. Just enjoy what little time you have here and once we arrive, we’ll handle the troubles left to face.” I felt slightly comforted by his words, but the thought that I was going to be tried and sent off depending on the results wasn’t very reassuring to me. The butler continued to smile as we passed by a small cottage.

Outside the cottage stood a man wearing gardening clothes, all dark brown with a black apron, and his pale and shaking hands held the watering bucket as he sprinkled drops on a beautiful patch of lilies. There were flowers lining the path to the village that I hadn’t even noticed before, although they were mostly red and white. Rarely did I ever see any other colors besides perhaps the grey and black of the bare trees. It wasn’t exactly winter, since it wasn’t cold enough and there was no snow, but it felt as though winter was coming soon.

“What troubles?” I couldn’t help but to blurt it out as I looked away from the man watering his flowers and stared in awe at the long line of them paving the shape of the wide path. The butler seemed as though he was trying his best to tolerate my questions, but if there was one thing that his expression was telling me, it was that he didn’t want to answer that question.

“The kind of troubles that can only be understood in time.” With that, he turned his chin and faced the path for the remainder of the walk. The rest of the time we spent walking, I glanced at the trees and houses and flowers and birds and by the time we saw the first few buildings peering through the trees, the sun had begun to set and people were outside lighting their lanterns. We entered the streets of the village, filled with scents of warm bread and soup, sights of people laughing and holding hands and women with long dresses and carriages, and not to forget the men and women on horses who trotted along the sides of the streets.

I turned to the sound of a group of men laughing in a tavern, their voices loud, and their hands filled with mugs of beer and their cheeks red with blush. Something about these drunk men caught my eye. It was strange however, seeing them enjoying themselves in such a dark place. He had spoken earlier about how this world was meant to almost completely replicate the living world, yet this world was so incredibly old fashioned! The clothes, the architecture, the furniture, and even the way that people spoke and behaved was practically ancient!

I didn’t know whether I would fit in considering that I was still wearing my black tank top and pajama bottoms. With the butler’s coat on however, I seemed a bit more fashionable in this crowd. I could feel his smile and glare burrowing into the back of my spine. He let me roam around for a little while, walking by shops and houses and parties. We soon passed by the bakery where we could immediately distinguish the scent of flowers and fresh wind with the sweet aroma of fresh bread and butter. The smell lingered for a while, filling my lungs with the utmost pleasant sensations, and then we walked further on and left my stomach to growl without the smells to encourage it.

Soon, the warm clasp of the butler’s hand resting on my small shoulder, which would usually frighten me if he hadn’t had such a gentle touch, turned me away from all of the magnificent scenes happening all around me and towards the man standing slightly behind me. He simply smiled and gestured towards a building across the street from where we stood.

“That is the hotel. You should be able to stay there for a little while until tomorrow morning, then I shall send one of the hosts to give you a bit of a tour. This is only one of the many villages in this land you know” he offered. I was more than willing to accept his offer. Although this town was a little out of my style, I loved how cheerful the people were, the mouth-watering smells, and the general aesthetic the night gave the town when it’s lanterns were all lit. It looked very welcoming.

I nodded and took a quick look at the hotel. It was large and it looked expensive, but by the way he was speaking, it wouldn’t cost much.

“How much is it to stay for one night?” I asked, feeling my pockets for any loose change, but of course, they were completely empty. The man laughed and removed his hand from my shoulder, his face looking flushed from embarrassment. I just knew what he was thinking…’Such a newcomer thing to say.’

“It’s completely free for newcomers so don’t worry. However, if you do decide to stay another night, you should know that there is no such thing as money here” he chuckled. I was shocked to hear his last words! No money? No debt? Could you just take anything you wanted?

“But of course,” he continued on, “we do use memories. Memories from our lives. It’s simple really. Just ask someone for whatever you want to purchase and share something you remember from your life. An experienced seller should know whether or not you are lying. An item that would usually be very expensive requires a memory that is very precious to the buyer. That is why many people here are just trying to get by. They don’t want to give up their most precious memories, however, there is a way to get them back.” I felt my breath cut short. Did I even have any memories worth sharing?

The painful ones perhaps but precious? I wasn’t so sure.

“How?” I asked impatiently. The smile that was perched upon his face turned into more of a line on his cheeks.

“You would have to work for them.”

Author's Note

I know that in the victorian era, holding hands in public wasn't exactly a "proper" thing to do but remember that this is a different world where rules like that don't really apply to anyone. Thank you for reading!