23October2025
Im trying to catch the last rushhour traffic before the evening gridlock swallows everything. Nothing aches any moreexcept the hollow in my own soul. I cant even tell where I am, or what truly happened to me.
I turn my head in every direction, but theres nothing ahead, above, below, or behindonly a dense, grey mist swirling around me.
Welcome to eternity, a soft, sly voice whispers.
And suddenly everything floods back. The way my car went wild, skidded off the lane, flipped in midair, and that final, violent impact that tore my life apart.
I cant! I scream. I have a husband and a son at home, my mother is terribly ill. They need me! Help me! Ill give you anything you want!
Interesting offer, the voice says, and I almost feel a strangers invisible grin. Ill help you, but believe meIm almost certain you cant even save yourself. The price will be dreadful. Trust me, I know how cruel the afterlife can be.
Please, whoever you are, have mercy!
Fine, Im curious myself
Ill split your soul into four equal parts. Three will stay with you, the fourth Ill keep as collateral. You have exactly one hour. Yet something tells me you barely know yourself
***
I burst out into the courtyard, hurrying to beat the evening traffic. My little boy is staying at my motherinlaws cottage, and I have to collect him.
A dishevelled, irritable crow perches beside the car, its wing broken. It flutters clumsily and then darts toward me.
Are you heading to the car? a frantic neighbour shouts, rushing up. Give us a lift to the clinic, Ill pay. Hell die otherwise
But Im in no mood for delays.
Call a taxi, I reply curtly. Ive got no time for injured birds.
The crow peers desperately into my eyes, scrambles at my feet, refuses to let me pass, croaking harshly as if shouting. I push it away roughly with my foot, hop into the car, fire up the engine and tear away. My neighbour watches, bewildered, as the crow vanishes as if dissolved before my eyes.
***
At the farthest petrol station I pull up to fill the tank. Just as Im about to get back in, a ragged, emaciated stray dog blocks the road, tail wagging apologetically. It looks at me with pleading eyes, trying to tug me forward.
Go away! I stamp its snout with my foot.
The dog doesnt flinch; it presses its ears flat, crawls low, almost reaches my boots, clamps its teeth on my trouser leg and hauls me forward. A foul whiff of damp, dirty fur hits my nose, and I spot a flea crawling on its ear.
Off with you! I shriek, slapping it away. The animal is kicked aside. I clutch my suddenly aching side, slam the car door, and speed off, forgetting the poor creature entirely.
***
Without easing off, I wipe my hands on an antibacterial wipe. Bloody hell, I mutter, first a bird, now a dogwhat a plague.
Along the busy motorway a crowd of drivers rush past, each hurrying to somewhere. I loosen my grip on the wheel, press the accelerator a little harder, though I cant fully relax.
In the middle of the lane a tiny kitten darts abouta dusty white ball, visible from a distance. Its eyes seem to beg, silent cries for rescue.
I shake my head, thinking I imagined it. I cant see feline eyes in the blur. I zoom past, glance at the rearview mirror. The kitten has perched on its hind legs, front paws clasped over its chest in a pleading gesture.
Stupid thing, youll be killed, I mutter. What on earth brought you onto this busy road?
Something inside me whimpers, begging to turn back, to scoop the little thing upif only to pull it to the shoulder. But theres no time.
I glance at the clock: its been fiftyeight minutes since I left the house. I have no time for a kitten; Ive got my own life to live. Yet, almost reflexively, I look back once more.
The kitten scrambles after my car, tiny and pitiful, trying hopelessly to keep up. It will never match my speed.
I banish the thought of the kitten and focus on the road ahead. I have my own business; theres no room for these animals. Let someone else worry about birds, dogs, and stray cats; let the fleas stay away from me.
***
Two minutes later the car skids off the road. The grey mist engulfs me, and a nasty, delighted giggle echoes, followed by the same voice:
Why do you humans always blame me for everything? Was I at fault? I even tried to help, gave you three perfect chancesjust a little delay.
You could have taken the bird to the clinic, stopped for the dog, even picked up the kitten.
The voice laughs again, this time bitter:
You were the one trying to stop yourself, in the form of that bird, that dog, that kittenthree fragments of your own soul. Do you remember?
I nod. Yes, I recall pleading with myself, begging, trying to pause even for a minute. I was rushing to live, unwilling to let anyone else into my precious life. Yet those others werent trying to intrude; they wanted to save me, however strangely it appeared.
The voice continues:
Youre not alone. Many have asked for another chance; I always gave three, but it never helped. In centuries, only a handful have escaped my abyss. Im only happy when people keep living, when their fate starts to change. I return that fourth piece of soul to them without regret.
I try to beg once more, but from the fog clawed out hairy, terrifying, clawed paws.
Every time I pass someone who needs help, I wonder perhaps its a piece of my own soul trying to halt me, to warn me, to keep me from the worst. It already knows what lies ahead.
