The Back of the Line

Henrietta Maystone always hated being at the back of the line. Hundreds of people stood ahead of her and yet she knew with absolute certainty she deserved to be in the front. As her father said, “If they can’t pay double for it, they can wait.” 

The mass of people all wore dirty gray cloaks, raggedy dresses, and other varying degrees of scraps. She looked at them all with annoyance. Though she had to admit, their attire fit the overall mood of this place. 

On either side of the crowded line, tall gray rocks blocked her view and an intense mist made it hard to see areas the rocks didn’t cover. The clouded sky looked to be seconds away from down-pouring though no drops came. The only clear thing was the sound of flowing water far away. 

She had no idea why her family had chosen here of all places. Worst still, she didn't quite remember how she had gotten separated from them, but it felt like a long time. She wished she was with them. They were always much more confident in pushing their way to the front, that is where they belonged after all. She guessed they were already ahead, waiting for her. The Maystones didn’t like waiting.  

She took a deep breath and pushed through the crowd. Some of them, the ones with less raggedy clothing, glared at her as she passed but she didn’t care. Others stared at her blankly like they had given up. 

She shoved past a tall, dirty-looking woman, giving her a view of what was ahead. The rocks opened to show a huge white and gold boat that glowed in the surrounding darkness. Henrietta smiled. She now understood why she was there, that ship was gorgeous. 

A young man wearing pale blue stood outside the boat. A golden bag sat at his hip and he held a long piece of paper. Henrietta watched him put something shiny in his bag and slash a dramatic checkmark on the paper before letting an overly excited man onto the boat. 

She gingerly stepped forward, staring at the man. “You have to do something about that line, it is awful,” she said. “My whole family is waiting for me.”

“Your whole family? Must have been a rough day.” The man chuckled. 

She quickly whipped around, “What are you talking about?” She said with a confused glare.

“Never mind that.” He held up his long paper and a fancy pen. “Your name miss?”

“Henrietta Maystone.” 

He looked up from his paper. “Ah yes, another Maystone. Welcome!” He said kindly. She nodded and stepped toward the boat before his voice called her back. 

“Payment, Miss Maystone?” He said, holding out his hand. 

She looked at his palm, unimpressed. “You want a tip? For what?” 

The man lowered his hand and glowered at her. “No payment, no boat.” He said sternly. “You’re a Maystone aren’t you? I’m sure you have something, all of you do.” 

Henrietta scoffed. “I have never been so offended!” She said as she quickly stuffed her hands into her dress pockets. “Of course I do!” But as she spoke, she realized her pockets were empty. No wallet, no anything.  

The man watched her with a bored expression on his face. “Didn’t swallow it did you?” 

She looked at him, completely bewildered. “Excuse me?” 

“Many families hide coins in their mouths. Gross if you asked me.” He gently tapped his bag. “Don’t know that pockets and bags work just as well.” 

“What in the world are you talking about?” Henrietta said, folding her arms impatiently. 

“Ah yes. A bit slow on the uptake, are you?” He knelt forward as if talking to a child. “You are dead sweetheart. And like I said, no payment, no boat to the afterlife.” 

Henrietta opened her mouth to fight back at this ridiculous statement but no words came out. Deep down she understood it to be true. With a sudden panic, she rummaged her pockets again for a coin or something. There was no way her parents buried her with nothing. Yet, it was the case: even her wrists, neck, and fingers were devoid of jewelry.

“Since you have no payment,” He said, watching as she rummaged through her pockets. “And considering your living family isn’t scheduled to be down here for a good few years, you’ll do a lot of waiting.”

He flicked his wrist and Henrietta could feel herself being dragged toward the crowd as if a rope was pulling her back. She ignored the smug faces she passed and instead focused her glare on the rude man. 

Within seconds, the same gloomy, stone clearing where she woke up loomed over her. It all made so much more sense: she was dead. A shutter flew through her at the thought. Not sure what else to do, she looked around angrily. There was no way in hell she was going to wait here while snooty little, whatever his name is, let people onto that beautiful boat. 

She forced her way back through the line, to the surprise of many angry people. The boatman let a woman and a little boy onto the boat hand in hand as Henrietta stomped over. 

“Ah Miss Henrietta Maystone. Did you find your payment?” He asked casually as he folded the long scroll of names. 

She didn’t answer. “Do you have a name, Mister Boatman?” 

“I go by Charlie.” 

“Well, Charlie,” Henrietta said with an accusatory tone. “My family has money I’m sure. They probably paid ahead for me.” She said, walking closer to the boat “So if you don’t mind…” 

She took a step toward the entrance and something hard hit her legs. She stumbled back, clutching her shin. 

“Not how it works,” Charlie said with a subtle amusement. 

Henrietta turned and glared at him. “My family would not have buried me without any payment. You said it yourself. Maystones always have something.”

“Except you, it seems.” He gave a smug smile, but the heartbroken look on Henrietta’s face seemed to humble him, at least slightly. “Perhaps your grave was robbed. You wouldn’t be the first and unfortunately not the last.” 

“Well, that is completely unfair! You can’t treat me like this!” 

“I don’t make the rules,” Charlie said glumly. 

“Well-“ Henrietta said before Charlie’s flicked wrist sent her flying behind the crowd again. She stared at the slowly shortening line of people until they were blurred by the angry tears filling her eyes. She quickly turned around and stomped toward the clearing. A few people in raggedy clothes were there, waiting silently. Henrietta ignored them.

“How dare he! How dare anyone! I am Henrietta Maystone!” She shouted. Her ramblings got louder and louder gaining weird looks from the other people. Eventually, her words disappeared and were replaced with unintelligible screaming and crying. 

As she screamed, the line got shorter and shorter. It was nearly empty by the time Henrietta’s voice decided it couldn’t yell anymore. She sat and slumped against the walls that once formed the line. The boat shined in the distance but Henrietta couldn’t look in that direction for long. 

“Last call for the Boat to the Afterlife!” called Charlie. This very phrase reignited any remaining anger Henrietta had. She was never last. Ever. She stood quickly and marched toward Charlie and his now heavy-looking bag. 

His weak smile held a hint of fear as she approached. “Hello again.” 

“Hi.” She said plainly. “I have a complaint.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“This system,” she gestured toward the boat and the rocky landscape, “is ridiculous and I don’t deserve to wait because of your stupid rules.”

Charlie took a step forward. “They aren’t my rules!” He shouted, glaring at her. She met his gaze with equal ferocity, and so he took a deep breath. “Look, I'm sorry. It’s just how it works. I wish I could do more.” 

His sincerity caught Henrietta off guard, so much so that she couldn’t think of an angry retort. 

“I have to go. There will be many more angry people if the boat is late.” He turned away and walked through the invisible gate with ease. He turned back to look at her as she stood frozen in surprise. 

“Maybe next time Henrietta!” He called before disappearing on the boat. 

The boat set off along the water as the invisible cord pulled Henrietta back again. “Well, Charlie!” She said, fighting to run forward. “You and your stupid rules, and you stupid boat can go-”

“Go what?” Said an amused voice from behind her. Henrietta quickly whipped around to see who was talking. The smooth voice belonged to a beautiful woman wearing a black dress with long lace sleeves. 

“I heard someone was giving my ferryman some trouble. Couldn’t have been you, could it?” The woman said with a grin. “Miss Henrietta Maystone I believe? At least I heard someone loudly claiming that name on the beach.” 

Henrietta folded her arms nervously as her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Yes, that’s me. Who are you?”

“Desiree. Though, some just call me the Lady of the Dead.” The woman took a dramatic bow. “Let’s go someplace we can talk about my stupid rules in private, shall we?” 

She grabbed Henrietta softly by the wrist. Suddenly, they stood in a modern-looking office. Large windows displayed the gray rocky landscape of the underworld and tall filing cabinets lined the other walls. In the center of the room stood a fancy desk with a chair on either side. An odd feeling of peace and eeriness filled the room and seemed to swirl together in an impossible way. 

Desiree took a seat. “Now, what seems to be the issue, Miss Maystone?” She asked, gesturing kindly to the second chair.

Henrietta quickly sat down, frowning at the woman. “The issue is your selective and unfair system. Only those with money or trinkets can go to the afterlife-” 

Desiree cut her off. “-And yet, you would have been happy with the system; if your ‘money and trinkets’ hadn’t been stolen, would you have not?” She said with a cool smile. 

“Well, I-” She broke off. Would she have been? Something flipped in Henrietta’s mind as conflicting thoughts bounced around. 

“Everything has a price, unfortunately. It is a rule of the world I can not change.” She said, drawing Henrietta’s thoughts back. “Luckily though, money isn’t everything here.”

Henrietta shifted uncomfortably at this for reasons she wasn’t quite sure. How could money not be everything? It was the very thing that kept her from the glamorous boat. Henrietta took a deep breath and shakily met the Lady of the Dead’s gaze. “What do you want then?” 

Desiree gave a genuine smile. “Quite simply, time. One of the greatest payments of all.”

“What does that mean?” Henrietta crossed her arms stubbornly.

“I’m offering you a post as Ferryman.” She explained. Henrietta sputtered, her mouth opening and closing trying to formulate a coherent response but nothing came out. 

Desiree continued as if not seeing Henrietta’s reaction. “You will split your time with Charlie. Half of your eternity will be spent guiding souls, and the other half enjoying a peaceful and happy afterlife.” 

Henrietta sat back in her chair, wondering if she had heard her correctly. “So. What do you think?” Desiree asked excitedly. 

Henrietta stared everywhere but at the Lady as if the walls and cabinets could help her know what to say. Conveniently, they did. She turned her gaze to the woman. “I am not going to spend half of my death working.” She replied before swiftly standing. 

Desiree’s happy smile faded as she stood as well. “Very well, Miss Maystone, if that is what you wish. You can return to where you were before.” She stepped away from the desk. “I hope you find you like waiting at the back of that line.” 

The words dug right into Henrietta’s chest. She quickly turned around. “No, wait!” The Lady of the Dead stopped and looked back with a smile. Henrietta took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I accept your deal.” 

Whether she would come to regret it remained unknown but one thing was certain: she couldn’t wait.