writingcamp+rewrite

week 3 + first chapter

It was one of those days again. They walked from room to room, tears and relieved sighs following them wherever they went. Yamunka grimaced as they stepped out to the corridor.

- Why am I here? - she demanded.

Even Selmun looked tired. Only the god of death was spry as ever,

never slowing, never stopping. Her reactions to her followers

complaints were also nonexistent. But Selmun, ever the solemn one

couldn't stop himself from talking.

- We are here to serve. The spirit

offered you the same, sister, don't forget your place.

- Well, yes, but running after her

– she pointed to the shadow walking in front of them -, is not

fun. And I'm supposed to be fun. Joy, pleasure.

- You were called here for a

reason. Not all is tears and pain. Look at them!

The room they ended up in was filled with people. Some with tears in their eyes, while others wore a look of greed. Anticipation lingered above them as the god of death stepped over to the bed. The man, a tiny, sunken, dried-up creature looked up at him, startled by the realization that he's staring at an oxen's skull, tried to escape. He reached out not to grab anyone, but to keep the apparition away from himself. His mouth opened to a mute scream, but his voice failed him.

- He's putting up a good fight –

Yamunka remarked as she sat down onto the corner of the table.

- Can you stop being so cynical? -

Selmun stepped closer to the bed, as if his presence could ease the

man's pain. There was a brief moment of pause when their eyes met.

A tear rolled down on the dying man's face, and then all was done.

He was no more. Selmun looked up. - See. It wasn't so hard, was it?

Yamunka rolled her eyes at him, and looked around in the room. The people waiting, the staff, that came in, but couldn't help stood in silence. Then, as if the magic lifted, they looked at each other, and reacted. Each in their own way.

Someone snickered, others tried to hide their smiles. The cloud of anticipation lifted, and with it came relief, the feeling of freedom, even self expression. Yamunka smiled.

- A joyous day indeed – she

smiled, grossed out. - You know, I never understood this – she

pointed at the woman in front of her, as both she and Selmun

reached for her shoulder.

- What do you not understand? She's

conflicted. They all are. They are humans, after all.

- We were humans once, yet I don't

feel conflicted.

- But this is exactly why you

should understand. We both know what it's like. This is why they

chose us.

- You know Selmun, I can imagine a

better way to spend my time than following the god of death around

and inflicting confusion in her wake.

- He is impartial, he needs us.

Otherwise, they are all lost. We are helping them. This is a noble

task.

- And yet, no matter with how deep

your conviction is, I do not feel like validating you with my

touch. You are lying to yourself.

Selmun stepped away from her, and placed his hand on the back of the grieving widow. Then he looked up.

- Am I?

- Yes. You feel no joy, no

pleasure. Not even when you comfort them. Why do it then?

- I don't have another option now,

do I? - Selmun felt irritated. Yamunka touched on something that he

was reluctant to admit even to himself.

- You are a god, like me.

- So? It's not like we can do

anything. I can't change what I work with, neither can you. We do

this now, just like we did it in the last few thousand years.

Nothing changes. Some of them are happy, others grieve when someone

they love dies. We do the work and that's it.

- And you call yourself the god of

grief?

- Why? - he smiled at her sharply –

What should I call myself?

- How about the god of jadedness?

Selmun rolled his eyes at her, to show he doesn't appreciate the joke, but Yamunka laughed anyway. This was one of those traits he envied about her. She could laugh, unbridled, without restraint. Her laughter rolled through the room, brightened the sunlight streaming through the windows. The colours, so faded all the sudden lit up, as if they were refreshed by a quick rain.

- Are we done here? - she asked,

when she looked at him again. Selmun nodded and they stepped out to

the corridor.

People sat in the waiting rooms, some prayed, others withdrew into a haze, gazing out to the middle of nowhere. A woman, tall, with black hair, argued at the counter – she wanted to see her husband in room 274, but was denied over and over.

It all seemed like a mass to Selmun, as they walked past. He felt the grief, the hope, the anger emanating from everywhere, almost overwhelming. But he walked on, barely thinking, reaching out, when he had to, when he felt his power was needed.

Long ago he thought, he believed in his role in this universe, but as time grew on him, so did he loose more and more of the faith, clinging to the fading ambers he once held as his fire. Grief, and pain still ravaged the souls of men, but barely anyone wanted to acknowledge his presence any more. All they wanted was joy, and pleasure. They called out to Yamunka, even in the times when they should have called for him.

It was a lonely existence, being rejected by all he was supposed to help and accompany on their journey. People prayed for miracles now, never allowing feeling anything else, but positive feelings. Maybe his twin was right, he was becoming jaded. But he couldn't allow that to happen. He was needed, the work grew more every day.

So he walked, and he followed, and he did what he could. Just as the people he was supposed to help, he was also waiting for a miracle. Something to wake him, something to brighten his life.

- Selmun – he heard Yamunka's

voice, but he was so entrenched in his thoughts, that he barely

realized what happened -, you are a god. Stop staring!

- What? - he asked as if he was

waking from a dream, grasping for whatever piece of information to

make the world understandable again.

- Stop staring! - she hissed again.

- Look, they are getting uncomfortable! Don't!

But he couldn't stop himself. He had to go after her.

 Selmun looked at the woman as she prayed. The little chapel was empty, silent, but her presence filled the air with something that he never felt before. It was sweet, the colours, even though it was dull in there to allow for the grief, seemed brighter. For a moment, he thought he heard laughter, sparkling, and saw the sunlight splashing through the coloured tiles of the window. He stepped closer.