It was many years ago, and I remember it as if it were a fog that still clings to the edges of my mind. Nothing ached any morenothing at allexcept the ache deep within my spirit. Emily could not tell where she was, nor what truly had befallen her.
She turned her gaze in every direction, but ahead, above, below, and behind her body there was almost nothing at all; only a thick, grey mist curled around her.
Welcome to the endless, whispered a soft, lingering voice.
Then Emily rememberedshe remembered everything. She saw how her car had sputtered, how it had careened onto the shoulder, how it had flipped in midair, and the final, crushing blow that had torn her life apart.
NoI cant! she screamed. I have a husband and a son at home, my mother lies ill. They need me! Help me! Help me return! Ill give you whatever you want!
An interesting offer the voice replied, a faint, invisible grin evident in its tone. I will help you. Yet, I am nearly certain you could not save yourself even if you tried. The price will be dreadful. Trust me, I know how cruel the afterlife can be
Please, whatever you are, I beg you! Emily pleaded.
Very well, I am curious enough, the voice said. I will split your soul into four equal parts. Three will stay with you, the fourth I shall keep as collateral. You have exactly one hour. But I sense you know yourself poorly
—
Emily stepped out into the courtyard, hurrying to beat the evening rush on the M25. Her son was staying with his grandmother at the cottage, and she needed to collect him before night fell.
By the car perched a ruffled, irritable crow, its wing broken and hanging limp. With great effort it hopped toward Emily.
Are you driving? called a flustered neighbour, Mrs. Green, as she rushed up. Give us a lift to the clinic, Ill pay. The bird will die otherwise
But Emily was pressed for time.
Call a taxi, she replied curtly. I have no patience for wounded birds.
The crow peered desperately into her eyes, flapped at her feet, tried to croak a warning, only adding to her irritation. She shoved it aside with her boot, slipped into the car, turned the engine, and shot forward.
Behind her, Mrs. Green watched in bewilderment as the crow seemed to dissolve before her very eyes.
—
At the farthest petrol station on the road, Emily was about to refuel when a gaunt, starving terrier blocked her path. Its tail twitched apologetically, eyes pleading as it nudged at her leg.
Go away! Emily stamped her foot.
The dog did not recoil. It pressed its ears flat, crawled low, and, with a careful bite, clamped onto her trouser leg, tugging her forward. A sour, damp scent of wet fur rose from its coat; a flea hopped from its ear.
Off with you! Emily shrieked, kicking the animal aside. She winced at a sudden pain in her side, slammed the car door, and, forgetting the trembling creature, sped away.
—
Without easing her speed, she wiped her hands on an antiseptic wipe. Bloody pests, she muttered, thinking of the bird and the dognothing but a plague.
The highway teemed with hurried drivers, each racing to somewhere. Emily relaxed enough to push the accelerator, though she never fully let go.
In the middle of the carriageway a tiny, dustcovered kitten darted about, a white speck against the grey. Its eyes, bright with desperation, seemed to beg for rescue.
Emily shook her head, convinced she was seeing things. She sped past, then glanced in the rearview mirror.
The kitten perched on its hind legs, front paws folded over its chest in a pleading gesture.
Stupid thing, youll die anyway, Emily muttered. What drove you onto this busy road?
A faint whine rose from the little creature, asking her to turn back, to take the kitten off the road, at least to move it aside. But there was no time.
She checked her watchjust fiftyeight minutes since shed left the house. There was no room for a kitten in her hurried life.
Still, she looked back one last time. The kitten chased after the car, small and frantic, hopelessly trying to keep pace.
Shaking off the thought of the helpless animal, Emily forced herself onward. She had her own business; there was no time for birds, dogs, or kittens. Let someone else tend to those nuisances, she thought, and leave the fleas alone.
—
Two minutes later the car skidded off the road. Plunging into the dense, grey fog, Emily heard a wicked, delighted giggle, then the voice returned:
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 on the road.
What would it have cost you to drop the bird at the clinic, to fetch the dog that called to you, or to pause for a moment and take the kitten?
The voice laughed again, this time sour, You were the one trying to stop yourselfin the forms of the bird, the dog, the kittenthree fragments of your own soul. Do you recall?
Emily nodded. She remembered pleading with herself, begging, trying to hold back even for a minute. She had been in such a rush to live, unwilling to let anyone else into her precious life.
Those others had not sought to intrude; they wanted to save Emily, even if their methods seemed strange.
The voice continued: You are not alone. Many have asked for another chance, and I have always given three, though it never mended things. In centuries only a handful have escaped my realm, and know thisI am happiest when people keep living, when their fates begin to shift. I return the fourth part of the soul to those who earn it, without regret.
Emily tried once more to plead, but from the fog rose shaggy, terrible, clawed paws reaching for her
P.S. Each time you pass someone in need, pause and wonderperhaps it is a piece of your own soul trying to halt you, to warn you, to keep you from the worst, for it already knows what lies ahead.
