FROM EDEN | ❝Even the afterlife is a forking nightmare.❞
Despite her untimely death, Beth Ardon has to admit that the afterlife has its perks. Among them is having her own, universe-approved dreamboat of a soulmate. Surely she can relax now? Sh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter one: welcome! everything is fine
⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊
Beth should be somewhere... and it's not here.
Instead, she finds herself in this sterilised waiting room she's never seen before. The couch beneath her thighs is soft, swallowing her up perhaps a little too much. The air is laced with the smell of sweet lemongrass, putting Beth at instant ease. Is that... a fountain trickling in the distance? And more importantly, is it filling her with tranquility instead of the urge to pee? Printed symmetrically on the wall in front of her in bright primary green reads a simple greeting:
'Welcome! Everything is fine.'
And, curiously, Beth has no reason not to believe it. As far as she can see, everything is fine.
"Bethany Ardon?"
The voice startles her, but still holds an odd gentleness to it. Her gaze darts across the room to its owner — a tall, elderly man dressed in a dapper grey suit and thick-framed glasses. She nods, but he did not seem to need confirmation that it was her, anyway. The man smiles slowly at her and steps to the side. "Come on in," he beckons her.
Her brows furrowing, Beth lifts herself from the couch and shuffles over to the doorway. She suddenly feels like a school child being led into the headmaster's office. Inside his room, the cream-coloured walls are lined with bookshelves and bureaus, sunlight pouring in from the windows where emerald house plants stand in plenty of greenery. As far as offices go (and she has seen plenty of those), this one could almost be inviting... but where on Earth is she?
"Please, take a seat, Bethany," he gestures his arm to the empty chair opposite him.
"Oh, Beth is fine..."
It just slips out from nowhere. The man simply flashes her a gentle, somehow omniscient smile, and nods to the seat again. Beth complies, lowering herself down. Her hands rest uncertainly on her lap. Only now does she realise what she is wearing — her favourite pair of jeans, along with a light salmon-pink sweater and some comfy trainers. How strange. Is it just her, or can she not remember putting these on at all? In fact, now that she thinks about it, Beth can't remember anything beyond sitting in that waiting room. And yet none of this seems strange to the man who called her into his office. She gets the distinct impression that she should be feeling at ease, but it is difficult when she can't remember a thing.
"Excuse me, um...?" Beth asks sheepishly, not knowing his name.
