The History of Elijah

Both a character study and world building practice, and the start of a future story I hope to one day write!

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He doesn’t remember dying. He doesn’t remember leaving the club.

The last thing he remembers is finishing his set. The cheers of the jazz club as they all walked off stage. He remembers catching Tamal’s eye across the dance floor, and sharing a small smile.

Tamal tried to make his way over, even got as far as to grab at his hand, but he and his fellow musicians were being ushered away to the bar. One quick drink, maybe two if you drank fast enough, and then back on stage until last call.

He let his smile turn apologetic, gave Tamal’s fingers a squeeze, then nodded towards backstage, a silent instruction to meet him there at the end of the night.

And then…that’s it.

Tamal’s returning smile, his nod. The feel of his fingers slipping from his. That’s the last thing he remembered.

Because the next thing he remembered – it didn’t make any sense. He awoke on his stomach, in the middle of a gray street that he didn’t recognize. His clothes were different. Gray pants and a white button-up shirt, not the bowtie and tuxedo he had been wearing at the club. He still had his black oxfords, though.

There were people around but…they were all gray too. Dark grays, light grays – everything and everyone was gray, and the ones who walked by him were staring down at him, shaking their heads in pity.

“Poor thing.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“Coming to is always the worst.”

No one helped him to his feet, and when he stood, they all just continued on their way, walking down the street like he wasn’t even there. Though, he had to admit, that wasn’t a new feeling. A black man in America? This was his every day.

Still, as people passed him, he stepped towards them, hoping to strike up a conversation, ask a question or two. Like, where were they? What was happening? Why was everything so gray?

But they all curved around him, pretended he wasn’t there. So he started to shout after people.

“Hey! Excuse me!”

“Hello, sir?”

“Ma’am, wait!” But they acted like they couldn’t hear him. Ignored his very being.

After trying this for about ten minutes, he slumped, dropping his hand against his thigh. It was hopeless.

Suddenly, a voice behind him: “You get used to it.”

Maybe not so hopeless after all.

He turned, and found a woman in furs standing on a stoop, cigarette in hand. A rich girl, by the look of her. Older, almost white hair, dark makeup around her eyes.

“Used to what?” He asked. “You gon’ be the one to tell me what’s going on?”

The woman tilted her head thoughtfully, and took a drag out of her cigarette. He could see the smoke as she exhaled, but he noticed that the cigarette itself didn’t seem to shorten any.

As the smoke rose into the sky, she gave him a bitter smile.

“You’re dead, honey.”

She took another puff, watching his face. He felt his mouth gape open as his mind processed what she said. “I’m…I’m what?”

“You’re dead.” She repeated. “I’m dead. Everyone here is dead, dead, dead.”

She slowly walked down the steps to get closer to him, continuing to suck away on that mystical, never-ending cigarette.

“And this is…well, I don’t know yet. I’ve been calling it the in-between.” She shrugged her fur collar closer into her neck. “I mean, it’s clearly not Heaven. Sure isn’t Hell, neither. But we are dead so…Purgatory? Limbo? The underworld? The pit? I dunno.”

“What…” He smacked his hands against his chest, feeling for…what? A wound? A cause of death? “What happened to me?”

“Why should I know?” She hummed. “I don’t know you.”

“Well, how do we get out of here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” She blew smoke into the sky. “I’ve been bumblin’ around these streets for at least ten years, if I’ve been countin’ right. So, maybe we don’t.”

“Ten years?!” He gasped. “But I…what…when did you die?”

“1934.” She sniffed. “You?”

His soul dropped. “I…I don’t know, I…it was 1925 last I remember.”

The woman nodded knowingly as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Time…works funny here. Just the other day I met someone who claimed they died in…in 2004!”

“In the next century?!” He gasped. “That’s impossible.”

“Honey, we’re both dead and having a conversation.” She laughed. “Nothing is impossible anymore, I don’t think.”

He glanced down the street, watching people walk this way and that. “…What do we do?”

“Whatever you want.” The woman said. “There’s food here, and picture palaces and baseball games. Whatever you can think of, you look hard enough, and it’s here.” She smiled, held up her cigarette. “How do you think I got me one of these?”

He looked at her wearily. “…What’s your name, ma’am? I’m sorry, I forgot my manners.”

She kept her smile, “Edith. Edith Marie Monroe. But my friends call me – or, rather, called me – Edie.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Edith.”

“Edie.” She nudged her elbow into his stomach. “I told you, my friends call me Edie.” He grunted slightly, rubbing at the spot, and she laughed. “And you, young man?”

“Elijah Anderson.”

“It’s a pleasure, Elijah Anderson.” She turned slightly and held out her arm. “Shall we?”

Elijah smiled, took her elbow and never let go.

And that’s how they went. For days, months…years? He still couldn’t tell. Edie had been right – time worked funny here. The sun never rose or set, but you could sleep if you wanted, and eat whenever.

But they stuck together. Walked the streets, watched new souls appear, and even sometimes, older souls go to…wherever they were supposed to. Because apparently they could, they could move on. This place maybe really was supposed to just be an in-between, a temporary.

But Elijah, Edie and many others never left.

Some, like Elijah and Edie, didn’t care. Made the best of it. But others did. Some ran themselves ragged, trying to get out, trying to get to a Heaven or Hell or anywhere else. They’d scream and run and try to harm themselves again. Collapse in the streets and lay there for days.

Others would just…be there one day, and be gone the next. And that was fine too. No one asked questions.

So, it was odd, when Elijah started having headaches. But not normal ones, not like he remembered when he was living. But ones that would…blink. Like a light was being flashed in his eyes.

It would be blistering, mind numbing. He couldn’t think, couldn’t function. Just stood there with his eyes pressed shut for a few moments.

Then…fine. Like it never happened.

But a few minutes later, it’d be the same sensation. The same wild, excruciating pain.

They weren’t constant, so most of the time he stayed with Edie and they did their routines. But he quickly learned that when they started to hit, it’d be better for him to stay home, and rest.

After…who knew how long, as he laid in bed and just let the pain happen, the pain became visions behind his eyelids.

A street, but not like he remembered. They were paved, with lines going down the center. Machines – automobiles, he guessed – seemed to fly down them, going opposite ways. Tall streetlights lined the road, bright bulbs illuminating the pavement beneath them. He was at their level, he seemed to be up in the sky like they were.

And then…gone. Just like the pain.

And back, mere seconds later.

There, gone. There, gone. For an hour at a time, every few days.

It was during one of these repetitions that he saw something else. He appeared above the road once more, watching automobiles go back and forth dangerously fast. For some reason, now, he was able to turn, to look away from the road.

There were what appeared to be homes next to the road. There were lights inside some of them, and other homes were dark. It seemed to be nighttime in this world, wherever it was.

But then, he glanced into one of the lit windows, and saw a silhouette. A man, if he had to guess. He thought nothing of it until the man seemed to lean forward, fascinated.

It took Elijah a minute to notice how the man was standing. He was facing where Elijah floated, head turned up in his direction.

Elijah blinked. Could…could that man see him?

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the vision was gone, and he was back in the bed of the house he and Edie were staying in.

Then, the visions, the pain, the weird sensations stopped.