by Tobias Wade
“Good for you for making it,” called a tall man with a silver buttoned vest. “Jolly worth the wait.”
“Any nasty deaths? Remember Cassandra’s Kill Counseling!” shouted a woman covered in jangling bracelets and ornaments. “It won’t cost an arm and a leg this time!”
“Don’t forget to call home with your spiritual operator!” a tall man in a yellow striped suit added, bobbing and nodding as he thoroughly agreed with his own proclamation.
The stately lady in red beamed as she raised her hands, slowly lowering them to still the crowd. It seemed to Noah that she was looking straight at him all the while, and his insides squirmed under her scrutiny. He ducked behind Bowser the golden retriever and his cluster of fawning girls who were now pushing towards the front, only to catch the Lady’s eyes still tracking him when he emerged on the other side.
“And special welcome to our returning guests,” the lady continued, turning away from Noah at last. “I am called The Matriarch, Headmistress of The Mortuary. Thank you Ludyard, your Daymare must be exhausted. Please relax, the both of you, and don’t tarry on my account.”
A last purple gust swept the ground, seeming to Noah like the bus was heaving a sigh of relief. Ludyard waved a smart salute with his gloved hand in the door of the bus before vanishing inside once more. The bus purred as it glided across its own steam to completely capsize onto its side on the grass. Noah couldn’t help but stare at the thousands of legs like those of a centipede which wriggled and stretched luxuriously along the bottom.
The lean figure of Professor Salice cut through the assembly of children, which wasn’t difficult considering how eager everyone was to get out of his way, to join the headmistress. She smiled and inclined her head toward him, allowing him to whisper something in her ear. Again she seemed to look in Noah’s direction.
“If you have not already met Professor Salice, allow me to introduce this semester’s new demonlogist,” The Matriarch announced.
Professor Salice smiled as though the gesture physically hurt him—and considering how tight his skin stretched, maybe it really did. His leathery dog released its spread of tentacles in an arc that almost appeared to be a grin of its own.
“On my right, returning for his two hundred and twelfth year of distinguished service is Gregory Wilst. He will be overseeing your necromancy studies,” The Matriarch said, gesturing to a figure that Noah hadn’t even noticed a moment before. Perhaps that was because his bleached bones reflected the sunlight so strongly. Apart from a complete absence of skin, his most distinguishing features were the twisted metal staff he leaned upon, and the gold-trimmed, white linen wrapped around his bony waist. The skeleton nodded his head respectfully.
“A privilege, as always,” the skeleton said dutifully in a voice like dry sand in the wind.
“On my left is Borris Humstrum. He will be instructing your transhumanism courses. This naturally includes reincarnation studies, morphology, and animal linguistics.”
“An honor Matriarch. And I’m so glad to see so many new furry faces this year.”
Borris’ clear, high voice was audible before he was visible, which took a moment as he had to climb on top of tree-stump in order to be seen. It’s not that he was small—he might have been as tall as The Matriarch if he stood upright and he surely weighed many times as much—but his characteristic slouch was understandable considering that he was an orangutan. His wild orange hair sprouted out of his forest-green robes, and he leaned upon a thick wooden staff with an antelope head on the top. The antelope head seemed quite happy for the attention and brayed loudly in response to the applause.
“But what are we waiting for?” The Matriarch asked, her voice taking on the hush of sharing a conspiratorial secret. The children were in thrall to her captivating presence and drew closer to hear what she was saying. “Wouldn’t you rather skip right ahead to the main event?” Each word was softer than the last, so that the children were drawn inward with the nearest being almost within arm’s reach before she stood rigidly upright and shouted, “To the Weighing Ceremony!”
The leading few children scrambled backward and fell into one another when she shouted. The Matriarch laughed and turned with a red swirl, marching toward the looming cathedral on the cliff side. Some of the town’s inhabitants peeled off to return to their homes, but a good number continued to follow the children in an enclosed semi-circle as they approached the ledge. Professors Salice, Wilst, and Humstrum took up positions around the perimeter of the children as if herding sheep.
“Did they say anything about the weighing in the pamphlet?” Walter asked Noah. “I didn’t see it.”
Noah shrugged. “It sounds so arbitrary. All the different animals must weigh completely different”
Jamie began folding through the pamphlet to check as they walked. “Hold on, I’m sure I saw it,” she said. “The Daymare 7… The Mortuary… Welcome to Barbaros… It says here that ‘Everything you need will be provided for you on the island of Barbaros. There are shops in the town which will provide all of your school supplies, although no student is allowed to spend more than six months per semester to maintain uniform aging.’ Here we go, the Weighing Ceremony. ‘The Weighing Ceremony will precede your first classes at The Mortuary. Those who do not pass will be sent back on the Daymare, and will not attend during the current school year.’” Jamie’s last words shook uncertainly as she read.
“Okay, how do you pass?” Walter asked.
“It doesn’t say,” Jamie groaned. “It just goes on to talk about the Bestiary, and the Coven, and the Graveyards, and all the other attractions on the island.”
“I don’t want to go home yet,” Walter said in a small voice. “Natasha wouldn’t be able to see or hear me, and I wouldn’t know how to come back. I’d just be… lost.”
Jamie’s brow furrowed as she flipped the paper back and forth. “That’s not right of them to keep it a secret. Do you think we should ask someone to explain?”
“Shhh,” Noah hissed. “It looks like she’s about to tell us something.”
The Matriarch had turned to face the children and was walking backward up the grassy slope now. Despite her apparent age, she moved with a sort of careless agility that turned the simplest gesture into the next component of a never-ending dance. Her rhythmic motions were soon joined by a sing-song honeyed voice.
My father was a soldier man
Who served his nation proud.
The battle lost, he turned and ran
And was shot down to the ground.
He’s good and dead, the doctor said,
Still and dead as he can be.
He’s got no head, his pillow red,
He sleeps eternal as the sea.
I’ll never watch him growing old,
Or catch him walking down the street.
But I know if my heart is gold,
Then he’ll be watching me.
Whether I go now or if I wait,
Until I’ve passed ninety-three,
I worry not, because it’s our fate,
To dream each other in sleep.
The destination for the Weighing Ceremony was readily apparent from a fair distance away. A massive tree ruptured from the edge of the cliff with two ponderous limbs outstretched in either direction along the edge. From each limb hung a cage made of twisted black wires. As Noah drew nearer he noticed that one of the cages was already occupied by a solitary heart which must have belonged to a giant as the organ was several feet high and wide. The size wasn’t nearly as troubling as the fact that it was beating on its own, pushing and pulling in wet gasps of air in place of blood.
“Don’t be frightened, now,” The Matriarch announced as she approached the base, still walking backwards to keep her eyes on the flock. “There’s no beating around the bush with this one. The fact is that not all of you will find a path back to the other side. That not all of you deserve another life based on how you behaved in the last one. A simple calculation reveals there have b
een approximately 110 billion humans in the history of the world, whereas only about 7 and a half billion have currently found their way back. As a necessity, some of you will have to be turned away.”
An uneasy hush fell over the assembly. The Matriarch’s smile was inviting though, and her warm words continued to draw the students inward.
“One at a time—just like that, thank you. You there—with the ponytail, yes—step right up. You’ll be the first.”
The girl being referred to tried to melt back into the crowd, but the lady caught her by the wrist and dragged her forward. The girl looked at her feet and trembled from head to foot while the lady spoke.
“What’s your name, dear?”
“Do-Dolly Miller,” she stuttered.
“Well Do-Dolly Miller,” The Matriarch mimicked with a reassuring smile, “why don’t you tell the class a little about who you used to be?”
Dolly glanced at the cliff edge behind her as though seriously considering whether that might be the preferable route. Instead she swallowed hard and answered, “I was thirty two when I…”
“When you what?” The Matriarch prompted, leaning in with eager anticipation. “How did you die?”
Dolly looked down at her bare feet again and gripped the grass with her toes. “I did it myself,” she said, barely above a whisper. Almost as if by magic the words seemed to catch in the wind and blow across the assembly, clearly heard by Noah despite how far back he was.
“Shh… shh… that’s all over now,” The Matriarch cooed. “Please step into the open cage, Dolly.”
She did as she was instructed, glancing at the heart opposite her with unease.
“Don’t Dally Dolly,” gurgled the air from the beating heart in short, rhythmic bursts. “You are safe.” Needless to say this did little to comfort Dolly who was now shaking from head to foot. She clasped the bars of the cage with her hands and watched The Matriarch close the door behind her.
Over the next several seconds the girl’s weight slowly lifted the heart off the ground as it began to level out. The heart huffed and puffed faster now, seeming to grow excited by the process.
“How heavy is your soul, Dolly?” The Matriarch asked eagerly, like a starving woman asking about the daily special.
“I d-don’t know,” Dolly stammered.
“There are many things that can add weight to a soul,” The Matriarch said. “Great emotions are important. Happiness, grief, fear—it doesn’t matter, so long as you’ve really felt something. Making hard decisions adds weight. Imagining interesting thoughts, telling funny jokes, perhaps a burning passion—anything that will make us look back at the end and say ‘I lived because…’ That because is what the scale is measuring. That because is the weight of your soul.”
While she’d been talking, the scale had continued to shift in Dolly’s favor until it reached a perfect level. Gradually Dolly continued to sink below that of the heart in the opposite cage.
“Dolly Miller!” the heart wheezed enthusiastically. “She lived to be loved. She is worthy to. Live again.”
The townsfolk who had accompanied the children began to clap.
“Congratulations, my dear!” The Matriarch cheered with them and opened Dolly’s cage, giving her a hand to help her back onto the grass. “You are most welcome among our company.”
“I’m not going to move the scale an inch,” Walter grumbled. “I never did a thing worth remembering.”
“Don’t say that,” Jamie said. “Having a girlfriend will give you some points. You must have really loved her.”
“I’m the one who hasn’t done anything,” Noah sighed, shuffling into his place in line. “I did get married, but it didn’t last long. Always the same job, ever since I got out of school—seventy-five years of comfortable routines and daily habits and nothing to show for it.”
“That’s funny, I thought you were much younger,” Jamie said. “You must get some credit for keeping a youthful spirit all the way to the end.”
“What about you?” Noah asked. “Did you love your cat passionately?”
Jamie snorted in a not uncharming way. “Hardly. And I’m sure I miss Sebastian more than I do my husband. My son Erik might have noticed I’m gone by now, but then again he might not notice for a year on his annual visit. I’ve been to France though, do you think that counts for anything?”
Noah shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”
They waited in line while the students were weighed one by one—the first four all passing and being cheered by the crowd. Even the heart in the opposite cage seemed pleased, announcing each name with satisfaction. Noah didn’t catch all the names, but he noticed Jason Parson was a human who lived to improve himself while Elizabeth Washent, the rabbit, lived to make the people around her happy.
There were a lot of students to weigh however, so whenever the beating heart wasn’t making an announcement The Matriarch filled the time speaking about the school.
“The Weighing Tree was here even before The Mortuary was founded in 1647, although of course the living couldn’t see it.
“The story begins with a ship named Alexandria which was carrying tobacco from America toward Europe. The ship was attacked by pirates, and every man and woman on board was slaughtered and burned aboard their looted vessel. Their spirits were not lost upon the ocean however, because on the other side they discovered the secret island of Barbaros. The men of Alexandria made an oath to one another that day, to never leave this place until they discovered a road back to life.
“In that pursuit they founded The Mortuary and began their studies. By the time one man had stumbled upon a way back to life, the whole community had become steeped in the knowledge of the spirit world. They decided that rather than let this knowledge disappear with them they would found a school so that each generation might pass on these secrets. Although each of the men has long since found their road from death, there remained one scullery maid who refused to abandon her school. Hundreds of years before women could even vote, yet since that day The Mortuary has been run by a Matriarch. The Matriarch, if you will.”
At this she bowed low and flourished her red hat, leaving no doubt that she was claiming credit for this staggering act of good will. “Can you imagine?” she went on. “Giving up my own resurrection for the sake of forever leading others to that lofty goal? Of course I’ve already lived so many lives that I hardly need another. We should all be grateful that such a high-minded person as that has gathered you all here today.”
Much of the assembled townsfolk moaned and shook their head at her boastfulness, but it was done so in good nature like someone pretending not to enjoy a good pun.
“Nigel Bronheart,” the heart interrupted, “never understood. What he was living for.”
The jovial atmosphere was replaced with many somber faces. Noah had been watching The Matriarch during her story and hadn’t noticed the scale, but it was clear now that the heart sat considerably lower than the doughy boy dangling in the air. Nigel’s eyes were wide with fear, and he began to jump up and down as though to force to scale lower. His efforts didn’t move the metal cage in the slightest.
“Please step out,” The Matriarch commanded, a sharp edge in her melodic voice. “It’s time for you to go home, Nigel.”
“That’s not fair!” he protested, retreating to the opposite end of the cage. “I lived for plenty of things. I had a wife!”
“Did you love her?” The Matriarch asked patiently.
“The third one, sure I loved her,” Nigel insisted. “At first anyway. And I had a steady job, and I never caused anyone any problems.”
“Maybe you should have. Hush now,” The Matriarch said. She opened the cage door and guided him out. “I can forgive mistakes, but I cannot forgive a blank page.”
“I’m not blank!” Panic crept into Nigel’s voice.
“You are not your experiences,” The Matriarch explained patiently. “You are not your memories. You are not even your decisions, which many times are
nothing but a spontaneous reaction. You are awareness itself, and if you failed to really feel the life you’ve lived, I don’t see what good you’ll do with another one. You have one year to revisit your old life and think about the person you used to be. If in that year you have learned what you must do differently next time, then you are welcome to come and try the scale again.”
Nigel hid his face in his hands and refused to look at anyone. The Matriarch guided him gently by the shoulders to where Borris Humstrum stood leaning against his wooden staff. The orangutan nodded and wrapped a hairy arm around Nigel to lead him back the way they came. The surrounding townsfolk pushed each other out of the way to make room for them as though they were afraid of catching a disease.
“That must be so embarrassing,” Jamie whispered. “If I were him I wouldn’t ever come back.”
“Bet he’s going to go haunt somewhere now,” Walter said. “Go haunt his ex-wife, throw some dishes around or something. That’s what I’d do.”
Noah didn’t say anything though. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his fingers wouldn’t stop drumming against his thigh. He was next in line, and he could imagine the whole crowd sneering at him when the heart turned him away. How was he supposed to have truly experienced his own life when he’d always been focused on someone else? From his own sick mother whom he’d looked after until her passing, he’d barely had a moment to focus on his schooling before his daughter was born, and then everything he’d done was for her. Why hadn’t it ever crossed his mind to spend more effort on himself? A sharp, loud sob broke the air from Nigel as he was led away, replaced by heavy silence.
“And you?” The Matriarch purred, appearing not to hear the crying boy at all. “What is your name, dear?”
“Noah Tellaver,” he replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could.
“Go on then, Noah. Show us why you matter.”
Noah swallowed hard, then nodded. He opened the wire cage, but hesitated before he stepped on. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jamie and Walter speaking in hushed tones. Jamie looked up and waved encouragingly, but Noah didn’t feel the least relieved. At last he closed his eyes and stepped into the cage, jumping nervously as the door clanged shut behind him.