Escape from Limbo
by Emily Cring
It was a dark and stormy night on the twenty-third of May. Clouds covered the moon and stars, shrouding the land below in darkness; broken only by jagged streaks of lightning cutting through the wind and rain. A lone neon sign shone reading simply, “Diner.”
If you could peer through the haze, you’d see a barren parking lot surrounded by a sparsely vegetated landscape.
Every night I walked to this diner not really knowing why I came to be there or remembering where I came from. It stormed every night. And, every night I would stop at the edge of the empty lot for what seemed like only a moment, looking into the busy diner.
I continued on to the door where a jingle announced my presence as I stepped inside. No one stopped what they were doing as I entered. I moved to my usual booth: three down from the door on the right.
As I sat, a skinny blond woman glided toward me. When she got there, she stopped and stared at me silently with her sightless eyes. After I gave her my order, she turned around slowly, allowing the fluorescent lights to shine off her blank nametag.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. Looking to my left, I saw a toad-like old woman dressed in rags. Muttering to herself, she laid large cards on the table in the shape of a horseshoe. She cackled maniacally as she read them. Sweeping them off the table, she reshuffled.
Ahead of me, there was a pale waif of a man sitting at the bar. He stared silently at the thick, dark-red liquid that sat in his glass.
Just then, a thick man peeked around the bathroom door. His eyes were wild as he trembled. He saw me looking, snarled as he gnashed his rotting teeth, and retreated quickly back into the room.
A woman came sinuously from the Janitor’s closet, adjusting her green skirt. She slid into my booth, pressed up against me, and hissed words into my ear. As I felt her tongue touch my cheek, I refused her offer. Her golden eyes bored into me as she slithered away.
It was quiet aside from the occasional sounds of the patrons and the ticking of the clock. Every night was the same. Always the same.
Midnight chimed, and the little bell above the door jingled. Muffled boot steps followed the sound. Everyone fell silent.
The figure’s face was covered by a brown hood and a cloak billowed revealing long legs encased in leather with weapons, both ancient and new, strapped in various places. The mysterious figure strode up to the skinny blond woman and spoke quickly in hushed tones. Nodding, the woman turned and went into the kitchen.
A fearful silence followed. The atmosphere was thick. Everyone knew who this was but couldn’t name them. The silence was broken by a hacking cough came from the old woman, and the newcomer turned to stare at her. The old woman shrunk in her seat as the figure took a step in her direction.
I deliberately kicked my foot against my booth, and the person’s attention turned toward me, instead. My eyes grew wide at the sight of a face I could never hope to describe or ever forget. But the eyes… I was naked and all the shames and sins and pride I couldn’t remember were laid bare before those eyes.
A cough from the kitchen broke our stare down. The figure headed to the source, and I sat there, tense and afraid, more than should be possible, yet… I felt… liberated, free from whatever it was that bound me to this place. For a week or a lifetime, I came here night after night. This night was different.
The skinny blond woman looked at me then deliberately turned her back to walk through the kitchen door. I felt eyes boring through me as I stood at the door of the kitchen not knowing why I was there or even when I stood. I went through and found myself standing outside in a new place where there was no storm and no diner.
There was nothing on the other side except thick grass and a moderate fog. The world was silent. A silhouette stood in the distance, and I made my way to it. I stopped next to the cloaked creature from before and found that I could make out a large tree alive with leaves of green and red and brown and pink with crows and ravens nestled in the branches. Silhouettes of people milled about the base of the tree, seemingly, waiting for something.
“Yggdrasil,” a voice said. “It looks like it’s your time, now.”
I looked toward the voice next to me, and my words were stolen by a whinny. A terrifyingly large black hose with a white sheen galloped up towards us. It brought with it the stenches of death and life. The cloaked creature mounted and, with one last look toward me, road off to the tree and became enveloped in fog.
A throat cleared, snapping me out of my daze. I looked around and saw the skinny blond woman again. She stared at me for a moment then walked away from the tree and I.
Without looking back, as if pulled by a force, I made my way to Yggdrasil where the crows and ravens rose like shrieking flames and engulfed me.