Inkpot: A Helping Hand

“I’m sorry but it is time for you to go,” I say quietly.

 

The woman glances around; at the hospital bed where her body lays and at the bright florescent lights. Her sharp eyebrows crease together and her eyes widen as she watches the doctor and nurses trying to revive her.

 

They are too late.

 

She gasps sharply. “Wha- what’s going on? Wh-why can I see myself … like that?”

 

This is always the hard part.

 

I walk towards her standing beside the doorway; the aura around her glows so bright it would blind a human.

 

Tears gather in her eyes as she observes the doctor declaring the time. “I’m dead … aren’t I?”

 

I feel my lips tug down. “You’re dead.”

 

She shakes her head rapidly. “But I can’t be! I was- was just in my car. An-and I have kids! Who’s going to look after them?”

 

I remain silent.

 

“Oh my God, oh my God.” She begins to cry and I stare at her.

 

I’ve been doing this for decades and I still don’t know how to deal with a crying woman.

 

I cringe. “Please stop crying. If it helps, you’re going to a better place.”

 

The woman whimpers and sniffles. She stares at me warily. “Who are you?”

 

They always have to say it with such disdain and suspicion, don’t they?

 

“I’m Dave.”

 

Curiosity burns in her blue eyes. “Are you some sort of angel?”

 

I can’t help but chuckle. “Oh no, I’m no angel.”

 

She freezes. “Are you death?”

 

They always get scared of that possibility.

 

I shake my head. “I’m just … someone to help you pass through. Runs in my family an- sorry I’m rambling.”

 

The woman still gazes at me with caution in her eyes. “You said … I’m going to a better place?”

 

I nod and gesture to the door behind her. “You should open it.”

 

She peers over at the door and then back at me. “Am I going to heaven?”

 

I shake my head. “Not yet. You’ll be meeting Fate. She’ll guide you there.”

 

She winds her hands together. “Fate?”

 

I wave a hand. “Oh Fate’s great. You’ll like her.”

 

The woman nods, breathes in deeply and turns to face the white door. As she presses down on the handle, she peers over her shoulder at me.

 

“Thank you, Dave.”

 

I watch as she pulls open the door and steps into a beam of light.

 

A sigh escapes my lips when I feel my body being yanked into another place.

 

A man towers over his body lying on the bloody ground. A knife glints under the street lamps. He looks up at me.

 

A fiery red glows around him.

 

Yeah, he’s in big trouble.

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