Memento Mori

• Kaylee Pickett, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

Slip, crack, splatter.
Darkness.
The first thing to hit me is the pungent smell of rot and decay permeated through the air. Now I can clearly feel the cold cement on my skin.

I don’t know where I am.

I try to look, to push my eyes open and see where I am.
But I regret ever trying.
What I see, is a
winding, never-ending hallway of doors, strange banging and howling behind each one.
Someplace seemingly.. unreal.

I know where I am.

I pick up myself off the ground and limp through the corridor.
I drag a hand across doors marked with symbols and dialects I don't understand.
Door,
after door,
after door.
Until one opens, coercing me inside.
I look at the plaque on the door.
“The director.”

I have a feeling this is where I'm meant to go.

There’s an antique desk and chair sitting in the middle of an empty room, shrouded in darkness.
Taking a step in, the invasive stench once clogging my nostrils washes away,
Replaced by the fragrant smell of fresh flowers.
Disarmed, my mind fails to notice a skeletal hand creeping out across the desk.

“Please, take a seat.”
I’m startled.
But having no options, I sit.
“Good choice,”
They say to me,
leaning forward out of the dark to show their face, is a skull staring at me.
“I’m the director. we’ll have a talk, and then I’ll let you go. Understand?”
I hesitantly nod my head.
“Lets begin”
They pull out an hourglass, which they flip over onto the desk. I suddenly feel under pressure.

“I presume, you’ve figured out where you are?”
They question.
“Yes.”
I say.
They sigh.
“I’ll cut to the chase. You weren’t meant to be here so early. So fresh. Yet here you are in my office, and I'm required to give you some peace of mind before our session ends.”

“So what does that mean? You’ll let me go back?”
I plead.
“That’s not up to me to decide.”

The sand falls further.

“I know where this is leading. So, could you at least tell me this?”
They tilt their head in curiosity.
“Did..I have purpose? Did the means justify the ends?”

They chuckle, bones clacking against each other with each laugh.
“Humans. You never fail to be my most interesting visitors.”
They lean forward further.
“Yet, the most naive. You came here looking for a purpose? This world didn’t know you existed until 10 minutes ago. The fact of the matter is, there is no divine punishment, and any narrative you’ve spun in your head is just that.”

I sit, unsure of what to say. To think.
So many years I waited for an answer.

Then, the hourglass’ last grain of sand falls.

“That’s our time.”
They stare,
“It was nice to know you.”

And with that, a black door creaks open, beckoning me in.
I walk to it,
and delaying the inevitable no further,
Let myself be engulfed by the oblivion.