The Bench at the Edge

Today I am posting another extract of my book: The Bench at the Edge. The story is set in the 'afterlife', so the narrative is pretty jarred at first as Karel, the protagonist, comes to terms with a very different reality; it develops into a quest for love and a mission to save Satan himself.

               

Karel returned to his refuge without the slightest difficulty and it was just as he had found it on his first visit: the orchard, the grass, the defining mist... Only this time there was an old-fashioned park bench underneath an apple tree in the middle of the garden. “I guess this could be Paradise.” He concluded after a while. “Sharing it could prove dangerous in the long run. After all, I’m not unhappy here and it’s as close to reality as I may ever get.” He was sitting on a bench, as he had been for millions of years, but it was not desolate here and he felt as though he was the centre of something, rather than an insignificant piece of scenery. Yes, after all he had been through, he could settle for that. Loneliness was not such a bad thing and as for ‘wonder’... “Stuff it!” He concluded. No sooner than he had said that though, than a pang of guilt started to prod him. It was the promise that he had made to Satan. 

“Do I really want to find that love? If I did find it, I have no doubt that the first thing I would do is use my imaginary hand to punch it on its imaginary nose! I would not treat a worm with the sort of contempt this supposed love is behaving toward me. I cannot think of any acceptable excuse, unless my love is being held captive somewhere and is prevented from communicating, or is as lost as I am. But if my love is God, can that be said of God? Is the divine being then a pathetic prisoner to the Fates, those ghouls Satan mentioned?” Anger started to well up within him, coupled with a sense of powerlessness. It felt as close to Hell as he had ever been. “Enough!” He decided. He did not want his Paradise to be contaminated by these infernal thoughts. “I have done what I could; let love find me, now!”

Then with a sigh, he added: “No, it had its chance. It won’t bother.” 

Karel sat there motionless, half-hoping that he would hear the cicada again, or be hit on the head by a falling apple, or be startled by a talking snake, but nothing happened and the moment passed like millennia again. At last, Karel decided to walk back into the mist and let himself be born again, if that was what was meant to be. The mist played the same games as before, but then gently embraced him once more. It felt fine at first, comforting even, but not for long: it started to get darker, and thicker and tighter... He tried to escape from its grip, but this time he could not despite struggling as hard as he could. He did not feel as though he was being born again, rather it was as though he was finally being recycled into pure impersonal energy after having exhausted all the consequences of all his individual will. For the first time in his endless existence, he felt as though he was really dying and that his quest had been nothing more than the wolf howling at the moon.