A Gathering of Ghosts

THE gathered ghosts were all agog, anticipating the arrival of someone who they had been waiting for, for a long time.

The ghosts had assembled by the huge weeping willow. At the bottom of the ghoulish tree lay a humongous wood-burning cauldron. Its flames, cursed to burn forever, were like dragons’ tongues of fire.

It was a scene like no other if one were to view it at a considerable distance.

Imagine: above, gleaming and golden-colored, marshmallow-like clouds framed against heavenly blues of eternity; below, hellish walls of flame that would crackle and burst every now and then; its red and orange beastly sparks were accompanied by wails of doom by a million banshees.

The ghosts, who had assembled between these opposing destinations, were not bothered by the wails. All of them had been consigned, as their final destiny, above. It was a happy place. They had no complaints. They would, could and should stay there forever.

But as they learned things during their stay in this forever-happy place, this group of ghosts arrived at a common decision. They wanted to be by the weeping willow.

Afterlife’s Portal

This was the entryway to either destination: up above the forever-happy place or down below the nether region of eternally raging flames.

The ghosts wanted to hang about at the entryway. They wanted to wait for the arrival of Ermina, the woman who snuffed their life way before their time.

They did not mind turning into ghosts. That was the stipulation outlined to them by the Grand-Key Holder: they would turn into ghosts if they stepped out the Grand Door and converge by the weeping willow below them.

Some of them hesitated at first. They had gotten so used to a life of comfort, of singing and playing the harp, of frolic and fun. Why would they suffer being turned into ghosts just to wait for Ermina who murdered them all?

“We wanted to give our killer a killer welcome, remember?” said Yael, the eldest of them, the one who convinced this group that Ermina deserved to be met by them, before her soul departed for her final destination.

And so a gathering of ghosts converged by the spooky space enveloped in varying shades of ash and gloom. The tree of torment sometimes wailed, as if in agony, when armies of souls destined in Hades are immediately swallowed by the walls of fire.

The youngest of the ghosts were petrified at first. But they were quickly mollified by Yael until the gathered ghosts were no longer agitated. They got used to the willow’s penchant to howl wretchedly when the soul of murderers of innocents were delivered down below.

***

Ermina finally arrived at the entryway.

She was on her own, unlike most other souls of the newly dead that arrived in groups.

She was barefoot, not that she needed a pair of footwear. She was just floating, floating towards the light until total darkness claimed her.

Then she was suddenly aware of her soul being encased in a long, flowing dress; its shade neither virgin-snow nor inky ebony. Was that the clothes she was buried in? She couldn’t remember, of course.

Ermina looked her age, middle-aged and unhappy. She had not known happiness throughout her time on earth.

She didn’t look like a lost soul, though. In every sense, she knew full well where her final destination would be. She was not confused at all.

There couldn’t be anywhere for her but down below.

Fat drops of unearthly tears welled from her eyes. She knew, she knew! She had to pay for all the blood that soiled her hands for years and years.

Then she saw the gathering of ghosts by the weeping willow.

For whatever reason, Ermina felt a kind of ephemeral sting in her soul. It was a different kind from the sting that crushed her heart and lacerated her earthly being. That felt eternal.

Not this time.

Now that she’s crossed over to unearthly life, the sting was evanescent. She couldn’t understand it. She was expecting a blizzard of arrows with the sharpest of shafts to greet her after emerging from the tunnel, before being thrown into the netherworld.

But she wasn’t in the netherworld yet. That, she knew for sure. Fire and brimstone were nowhere to be felt.

And then the gathered ghosts rushed towards Ermina. Hundreds, perhaps a thousand of them.

She fell on her knees, her eyes firmly closed, her head bent down and touching what felt to her to be a soupy and smoky nadir. The din in her soul echoed her remorse.

Ermina, the backstreet abortionist, was ready for her comeuppance.

Unknown to her, the spirit of the babies that Ermina slayed from their mother’s womb, were just about to give her a killer welcome.

***

A spell has passed since that welcome. Ermina could not know how long. There is no concept of time in the afterlife, even in the spot where she was doomed to remain.

The killer welcome was a great welcome. She was smothered with love and gratitude, something she never experienced on earth.

Ermina still could not get her head around what Yael said that they, the gathered ghosts, each owed her; that she saved them all from an earthly life of deep anguish and suffering. When the ghosts took turns in sharing what each escaped from earthly life, the abortionist’s soul was dazed by what she heard.

Many shared that they were consequences of rape and even gang rapes, of incest, of couples who already had 10 or more children or were drug addicts. Some had siblings, those who were not aborted, who died at a young age due to abuse, sexual assaults, starvation, parental negligence and such.

She shook her head at these tales of the gathered ghosts.

“I could not be guiltless,” she cried. “I deserved whatever punishment is due me.”

Yael said to Ermina, “You may be guilty many times over. But what you did for me and for a few others who, like me whose parents wanted us aborted, and then were born alive, lessened that guilt.”

Ermina remembered Yael. Her mother had her aborted even if Yael was already past seven months in the womb. Yael was born alive. Her mother got angry; she cursed Ermina. She didn’t want the baby alive.

Ermina, who had previously saved babies to be aborted but were born alive, took Yael to a hospital. She took great pains and spent whatever was required so the baby would live and be healthy.

Yael lived up to four months, but only because medicine could not save the baby whose mother’s drug addiction ran also in Yael’s veins.

Yael said, “You’re the only one in my earthly life who showed kindness. Which is why I and the others wanted to welcome you, we wanted to say thank you.”

The gathered ghosts then enveloped her like a ball in a golden glow.

Then, one by one, they zoomed upwards, into the Light. They left their ghostly layers behind, turning again into cherubs which what they were.

***

Ermina has dwelt by the weeping willow. And like the wood-burning cauldron, she was cast out to remain there for keeps –

Unless the gathering of ghosts that welcomed her could, again, wangle a favor from the Grand-Key Holder. This time, to allow Ermina passage to the forever-happy place.

-------------------------------- the end -------------------------------------

First published here.

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