Not the Walking Dead

The Library

 Opening her eyes was no more difficult than it had been any other morning of her life. The feeling of opening her eyes to her bedroom was what she had expected, but her eyes weren't familiar with this sight. Not only was she not lying on her bed, she was already standing in a room completely unfamiliar to her.

Catching her eyes before anything else were the railings, deep reddish-brown detailed railings on either side of a grand staircase. No curves to the stairs, the stairs started right in front of her and continued straight up, the top of the stairs not in her line of sight. Beyond the stairs, she could see the library of her dreams.

As she ascended the stairs, she saw only more. Books of all colors, intricate and simple spines alike lined the grand walls floor to ceiling. Bookshelves lined the floor parallel on either side of the delicate carpet that she stood on upon reaching the top of the staircase. The carpet as well as the bookshelves stretched forward, more and more, much farther than her eyes could see.

The awe in her eyes at such a beautiful place was easily overshadowed by her confusion. If she wasn't speechless, her favorite expletives would be bouncing off of the echoing walls. Shoving down the expletives and screams, she settled for a single word.

"Hello?" Though she wasn't exactly expecting an answer, the silence in response was disappointing all the same. The following questions seemed pointless to voice aloud with no one to obviously answer.

Where the hell am I? How did I get here? Have I been kidnapped? Doubt it. Who would kidnap me? Am I dead? How did I die?

"Anyone there?" She yelled out hoping a volume increase would make a response more likely. She wasn't nearly as disappointed the second time.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." The female voice right behind her caused her to whip around, throwing her arms in front of her in self defense. Standing before her was a plain looking woman, long blonde hair reached to her ribs in loose curls. A blue dress of modest cotton hugged her frame, but fell loosely at her forearms and waist. A square neckline framed her collar bones and small white flowers in her hair made her blue eyes appear softer.

"Who the hell are you?" The younger of the two women asked. The newcomer in the blue dress was closer to fifty than the thirty year old brunette. The older woman didn't appear offended by the profanity, if anything she was happily amused.

Well whoever she is at least she hasn't killed me yet. Unless I really am dead.

"I go by many names." The older woman said. "Some call me fate, some God. Some call me an angel or a reaper." The woman's voice was as soft as the kind look in her eyes.

"You're God?" The younger woman hadn't meant to have as much disbelief in her voice. "Like "Big G from the Good Book God?" Her fingers in the air curving around the words mockingly. The older of the two kept staring, no less kindness in her eyes than before.

"My home and I appear differently to every visitor. You weren't religious were you?" The older woman asked. But the brunette could sense in her voice she already knew the answer to that question.

"No, not really." Was the slow reply.

"Then you can call me whatever you wish."

"Do you not actually have a name?"

"I tend to go by Amelia to those who prefer a more personal approach."

"Ok, so if you're some kind of reaper or angel, did I die?" The tone in her own voice was hard for even her to decipher. She wasn't necessarily sad. Nor angry. Simply confused.

What's the last thing I even remember?

"Yes, dear. You are dead." Amelia's voice was still just as soft, with sympathy shining through as well.