The Apple
an excerpt

“So last night you had a dream about dying, is that correct?” Mr. Sheol broke through her cool-air escape. Suddenly, the fan didn’t seem so cool and the fire seemed to extend outside of the fireplace. Mr. Sheol explained that he had read all about her dream on his computer, including the strange allergy to apples, which her body had actually been failing to suppress for her entire life. It had started as a child, but her symptoms had been nothing but strange tingling in her teeth. As she grew older, the symptoms progressed to an itchy mouth, until finally reaching their most severe—the swelling of the throat. Mr. Sheol shook his head and said that sometimes these things happened for no good reason.
“You’re talking about my dream?” Leah asked.
“I’m talking about your reality.”
“But my apple allergy happened in my dream. Not in real life. This is real life. That was a dream. And why do you have all of this on your computer?”
Mr. Sheol offered Leah a sympathetic smile. “This is not real life,” he said softly. “This is real death.”
Real death? What did that mean? There was no way this could all be real anything, Leah was convinced, aside from maybe a really bad dream. When is this going to end? she wondered.
“You look shocked,” Mr. Sheol noted. “That is quite normal when a person discovers that they are dead. We have counselors on hand to aid you in the grieving process. I can set up an appointment for you, if you’d like.” He began to take out a pen and date book from his desk drawer. Leah watched as he opened the date book and flipped through numerous pages filled with scratchy ink. His finger landed on a blank page and he looked up. “I’m going to put you down for tomorrow morning.”
Leah waved her hands in front of her body. “I’m sorry. No. No, no, no, no. Did you say I was dead?” A small chuckle turned into a booming laugh that wouldn’t stop. “That’s funny,” she managed to squeak out in between laughter. Soon, she had the hiccups, which made her laugh even more.
“I take it you don’t need counseling,” Mr. Sheol said, clearly unamused by Leah’s vulgar display.
“So I had a dream that I died and then I woke up in the same dream and I died again? Wow! This is one crazy dream! Excuse me if I seem to not be taking this seriously, but I think I’m about to wake up soon, so I’ll just show myself out, thanks. It was nice meeting you, really.” Leah extended her hand, intending to shake Mr. Sheol’s hand and then make her exit. Dream or not, she just wanted out of there.
With disgust, Mr. Sheol pushed her hand away. “Ms. Gordon, you aren’t understanding the situation at hand. You died last night. From eating that apple. And now you are here.”
Leah decided to humor the good manager. “And where is here, exactly?”
“The underworld, of course. The place where all dead souls go before entering heaven or hell.”
“The underworld is a bus terminal?”
“We try to make it an easy transition for the recently deceased by allowing them to feel as though they are in natural surroundings. My office actually links up to all of these various locales, but the only one you’ll be able to access is the one in which you are accustomed. This means, that when you leave my office, the bus terminal will be there and so will the city, as we have created for you, as is normal for you. Everyone out in the city was also once a part of the city, and so they remain in the underworld. Your apartment will be there when you get home tonight, but your roommate will not, as she is still alive for the time being.”
“So I really did die from an apple allergy?” Leah asked, feeling a little less light.
Mr. Sheol nodded. “Your death would explain why you never saw your roommate this morning.”
“But the light was on in her bedroom!”
“What you saw was not a light. It was fire. Her bedroom is off-limits to you. Should you enter the room, you’ll see nothing but flames. The same will happen if you try to access any off-limits portions of the underworld.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Leah repeated. Questions about her roommate, her family, her things, and the people on her bus ran through her mind. She wondered what was going on at that moment in the alive world. Were they planning her funeral? How much time had passed? Would she ever get to see them again as so many fiction books she had read suggested? She clutched at her stomach. It still hurt from laughing, but now it hurt even more because she felt sick. Could she still be sick even if she was dead?
“You are all dead,” Mr. Sheol said, as though reading her mind. “The people on the bus, the people in line in the terminal, everyone here in this office—dead. Even me. I’ve been dead for many, many years now.” He paused and watched as Leah began to take rapid breaths. “I’m going to recommend that you meet with the counselor this afternoon instead. She can answer more of your questions than I can. My job is simply to break the bad news and make sure that nothing gets out of hand down here.”
“Down here? Am I in hell?”
Mr. Sheol shook his head. “Not yet. Now, you seem a little tense, so I’m going to give you something that will make you feel better and then send you off to the counselor straightaway. Most people take the news this way, so don’t feel bad about your emotions.” From a cabinet next to the fireplace, he took out a glass flute filled with a pink liquid. He handed the drink to Leah who, without question, took a big gulp. It tasted like cough syrup, but immediately, Leah’s mind began to clear. She guessed that all the others before her had drunk the same stuff and that was why they had paid her no attention when leaving the office. Why would they? Leah did feel wonderfully calm. She gave Mr. Sheol her biggest smile.
“The counselor will answer my questions?” she asked in monotone.
“Certainly. Everything will be better explained, and then we’ll get you set up with a job and many other good things during your stay here.” He reached for Leah’s hand across the desk, which she gladly provided, and gave it a little pat. “Just go out the door and back into the main office. You want room 6.”
Leah nodded and repeated the room number out loud. Mr. Sheol gave her an encouraging wave before settling back into his chair to await the next befuddled person. Leah twisted the doorknob and pulled and the door opened this time. She smiled back at Mr. Sheol, gesturing to the door with her head. He raised his eyebrows in mock delight.