Mist coiled around her ankles as she walked along a gravel path. White-stone cliffs dropped down on either side of her, forming a narrow bridge. Around each side, that shifting mist lapped at the stone, concealing the world below.

She followed a man in a black cloak. He walked a couple of steps ahead of her, not once turning to check she was still there. With each step, the lantern handing from his staff swayed from its chain.

The path widened as they walked, expanding to make space for the stone chateau sitting at the cliff's edge ahead of them.

It was a modest building. A grey awning overlooking a set of wrought iron tables set for two hung from the front. A chimney in the back off put a lazy smoke, slowly floating up to join the overcast sky.

He stopped when he reached the doorway, turning to hold the door open for her with his white-gloved hands.

"Go on in," he said. "I'll be along in just a moment."

She nodded and scurried through the offered door. She found herself in a quiet restaurant.

"Reservations?" the maître d', a man in a simple black vest and white shirt, asked from his podium.

Reservations? Did she have a reservation? She couldn't remember. She usually remembered these things. Did she need one?

The maître d' sighed, his eyes softening around the edges as he recognized her confusion. "Tell me your name, dear. I'll check my records."

"Ah, thank you," she said. "I'm Eris Fald."

The man pursed his lips, running his finger down the pages of his logbook. "Fald, Fald, Fald. Ah, here we are. My, you are a bit early, aren't you?"

"Sorry?" Was that pity on his face? She would have to wait a little while for her table to be ready, she didn't think there was anything worth worrying over.

The man opened his mouth, perhaps an explanation on his lips, perhaps preparing to tell her the time until she could be seated.

Her traveling companion returned at that moment, though. He had shed the black cloak in favor of a black, collared shirt and left his lantern adorned walking staff elsewhere. "She's with me, Paul. Seat us at my usual table, please."

"Ah! Master Rael, is this your guest? I should have known. I'll have your table ready in just a moment."

"Thanks, Paul," Rael said.

"You're a regular here?" she asked him.

He snorted. "Something like that."

She frowned, her brow furrowing. "Where is this, by the way?"

"Oh, right, I haven't had a chance to explain yet, have I?" He sighed. "Where to begin? Your question, I suppose. Yes, this is the Restaurant at the End of the World."

"End of the World!" The white cliffs they had walked over flashed before her eyes again, the mist swirling far below them. Had that been the edge of the world? Was there nothing down there?

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's just a name. The world is round. You can't fall off, I promise."

"Oh, right." She laughed nervously. She'd known that. That was a basic fact. She wasn't sure what it was about the landscape outside the quiet restaurant that had made her believe so easily that it might have been the edge of the Earth.

The maître d' returned, waving for them to follow.

They were seated beside a window overlooking the cliffs, the table set with silver cutlery and adorned with a trio of low burning candles. The maître d' handed them their menus, promising their server would be with them shortly.

"Order," Rael ordered, picking up his menu without another word.

She scanned the menu, her eyes going wide at the options. The first page alone was filled with an assortment of first-class items, from steaks to lobsters, to fish, to ducks. Her mouth watered with the rich description of each one.

Eagerly, she flipped the page, her hand stopping halfway through the motion.

Where were the prices?

She frowned. This was wrong. She definitely couldn't afford any of this.

She glanced around the restaurant. It had a modest, modern style, all clean lines and black and white colors. The clientele was a reserved lot, keeping to themselves, yet still filling the room with a lively bustle. Most wore suits. The least dressed where those like Rael, with collared, button-up shirts.

"This is my treat," Rael said without looking up from his menu. "Don't worry about pricing. Just get what sounds good. In fact, get everything that sounds good. Don't even worry about whether you can finish it all or not."

"I couldn't," she protested.

"I recommend the scallops, personally." If he heard her protest, he didn't show it. "Of course, I love a good eggs benedict too."

Somehow, she could tell that trying to refuse her host was futile, so she looked back down to her menu. The second page was nothing like the first. Where the first had been full of gourmet dishes she'd always imagined trying, this page was filled with a disparate mix of dishes she ate all the time. Pizza, fried chicken, burgers. They were all things she often ordered at home. Potstickers, tacos, ramen. She smiled, running her finger over the familiar list of dishes, each more casually comforting than the last.

"Why are you buying me dinner?" she asked Rael, as she considered what she wanted to eat.

"Can't an old friend buy you dinner?" he asked.

She frowned again. Something was wrong with what he said.

"Things have been tough for you recently, haven't they?"

She nodded slowly. Between working part-time and full-time classes, it had been hard to find time for any of her meals lately. And how many nights had she collapsed under one of the library tables instead of sleeping at home? "Yeah. I guess they have."

"So, just enjoy tonight, alright," he said. "Don't overthink it too much."

She nodded, turning her attention back to the third page. Things she hadn't eaten since she was a child filled the page. Spaghetti, mac and cheese, stew with dumplings. Her father's favorite dishes, the ones he pulled out on rainy days to warm the soul. Meatloaf, stroganoff, chili.

"Good evening, I am Tara. I'll be your waitress this evening." She stood at their tableside, a warm smile on her lips, a pad of paper and a pen tucked between her hands. "Are we ready to order, or do we need another minute?"

Rael shot a questioning look across the table, deferring the question to her.

She looked between the waitress and her menu, before nodding. "Yes, I think I'm ready."

When the waitress left, Rael asked, "How much do you remember?"

"Remember? About what?"

He looked out the window, his grey eyes searching the shifting mists below them. "About the dream you told me about."

"Dream? That's too vague. I'm not sure what dream you're talking about."

A smile crept along his lips, turning the corner up just slightly. "That night, we lay along on that hill. The last night of camp, with the scouts? You told me about your dream."

Now that he mentioned it. She remembered a night long ago, staring up at the stars, dreaming of a future filled with joy. "I decided I wanted to be a scientist, inspired by the scout activities we'd done that day. Inspired by the endless starry sky above me. I wanted to find all the answers. Find out why the stars were so bright, why the space between was so dark, why the grass beneath me reached up with all its might."

He nodded. "It was a beautiful night."

She remembered it well, now that he'd mentioned it. Remembered lying there alone, making silent promises to the dark and the stars.

The waitress returned, placing hot plates before both of them. Three for her, one for Rael.

"Dig in," Rael said, picking up his fork to attack the scallops before him.

She took her spoon to her first dish, the stew with dumplings. It was too hot, honestly, almost scalding her tongue as she took her first bite. But, from that first bite, she didn't care. She shoveled up spoonful after spoonful, letting the hot stew melt her mouth. She couldn't believe the taste. It was perfect, completely matching her memory of her father's stew to the tiniest details.

She resolved to have her father make his for her the next time she visited. She'd forgotten how much she loved the hearty dish, how it warmed her to her heart. How it filled her with love and strength.

Across from her, Rael picked at his scallops.

"Something wrong?" she asked between mouthfuls.

He shook his head. "Just thinking about how my job never gets easier."

"Your job?" That made her pause. What was his job? She felt like she should know. They were old friends, weren't they?

He nodded. "I take it you don't remember? You don't remember how we met?"

She frowned. "It was a long time ago, wasn't it? It isn't strange that I don't remember the details."

"No, if that were true, that wouldn't be strange," he agreed. "Tell me, what were you doing immediately before this?"

"Before this?"

"Before we walked out to World's End."

"I..." What had she been doing? She could clearly remember following him along the cliffside but before that? It was fuzzy.

Had she been walking somewhere? Somewhere else? It seemed to her that she'd woken up stressed this morning, although that seemed such a long time ago now. She had planned on class, then to hurry to her job. She was going to get off at eight? Then she'd crash at home with a bag of microwave popcorn for dinner again, and maybe fall asleep with the bag still in her hand? Was that how she'd expected the day to go?

That seemed at once, very sad and very certain. A lot of days recently had gone like that. Had ended like that. Wasn't that how yesterday had ended?

So how was she having dinner with Rael? She looked around the room. Not a clock in sight.

She looked out the window. It was still overcast. All she could say with certainty was the sun had not yet set.

Had she gotten off work early then?

But, no, she didn't remember arriving at work today.

She'd been walking...

"I was walking to work," she said slowly. "Class got out late. I was in a hurry." Stunned, she shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her head. "Why did I agree to get dinner with you? I'm missing work."

Rael nodded. "Why, indeed?"

"I'm serious! I'll lose my job!" She stood up, looking around the room for the exit. "I have to get there before I'm any later."

"Calm down," he said. "Sit back down. I promise it will work out. You aren't going to make it in time for your shift, I guarantee it. So, you should just relax and enjoy a proper meal. I know you haven't done that in a long while."

She didn't like it, but she couldn't find a flaw in Rael's words. She found herself seated again, the urge to rush out subsiding.

"Now, tell me," he said. "What happened next. You were on your way to work, and then?"

She hesitated, dread hanging over the memory. She didn't want to remember. How she knew that, she didn't know. But she didn't want to remember.

"It's important," Rael said. "Please try."

She bit her lip, nodding. "I was walking to work, and... I was waiting to cross the street. The store was just on the other side. I was almost there." She paused. How had Rael convinced her to come with him, if she'd been so close to work? It wasn't like her to take off without warning.

"But there was this kid," she continued. "This little girl. I, I can't remember why, but she stepped out into the street."

She stopped. The image of the little girl was imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. She wore a yellow dress and red shoes. Her hair was tied in twin pigtails. She'd been giggling about something. Her mother had turned away for just a moment. To grab the little girl's brother's hand? Guessing wrong at just the wrong moment?

She saw the girl step off the curb. Could hear herself calling a warning. Watched, helpless as the child took another step onto the blacktop. Watched as a pair of headlights rushed toward them. Watched as she threw herself after the girl.

Her hand clamped down on the child's shoulder. The car charged on, closer now. She shoved the girl back toward the sidewalk, taking half a step back herself.

She watched the young mother's face. Watched the fear for her daughter turn to relief, and that relief turn to fear for a stranger.

Watched her body fly over the hood of the car.

"I was hit."

"Yes," Rael said.

"And I died."

"Yes."

"And the first time I saw you was on the path outside."

Rael considered the statement, shrugging. "Arguable."

"Then this is--" She could feel the panic rising again. If she was dead, then this was--

"You're last meal."

She blinked. "My what?" Her last meal? "Not, the afterlife?"

Rael frowned, shrugging. "Again, arguable. Is this 'after' your 'life'? Yes. Is this 'the afterlife'? No. Not quite."

"I don't understand."

"I'm a reaper," he said. "That's as good a place to start as any, I suppose. A god of death. One who ferries souls to the realm beyond. You are one of those souls. But a soul can't pass on if it doesn't know it needs to. And, you can't just tell a person they've died."

"Why not?"

"Would you have believed me? Would you have believed any of this?"

She picked at the stew in front of her. "No, I suppose not."

He nodded. "Exactly. Anyway, this World's End is one of many places we reapers can take souls to help them understand their situation. A last meal over which to come to terms with what's befallen them. And after--"

"After?"

"Afterward, I escort them to what's next. The afterlife."

"Then..." this was the end? She knew now. She'd remembered. There was no reason to waste more time here.

"Take your time," he said, "Finish your food. Maybe order seconds. I'm in no hurry. The rest of eternity can wait, I promise." 



#fantasy #fiction #shortstory #short #sacrifice #death #food