Chapter 3:

In which Ebony is subjected to

several alcoholic beverages, the

explanation of what exactly ‘Imprinted’ is

and a unbearably long ferry ride.

"I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter."

- Winston Churchill.

Once again, Ebony found herself utterly astounded by what she found on the other side of a door.

The world that lay sprawled before her could not - absolutely could not - be connected to The

Crossroads, nor the dark and terrible hallway, nor even Earth itself. The land that was there to greet

Ebony was much too magnificent. Glancing behind her, Ebony saw only one door, pressed into a damp

brick building, with no sign of the other two doors that would lead to more predictable fates. Swaying

for a moment, for the sights that greeted her had left her dizzy, Ebony reached out to steady herself

on a nearby crate. She nearly laughed with glee when she found that once again, she was solid.

“Hurry up, then, we haven’t got all day,” Death said, sounding more panicked then

annoyed. Ebony looked up to see Death standing nervously several feet ahead, shifting his weight

from foot to foot. With a feeling of Déjà vu swelling in her stomach, Ebony happily followed Death, into

this new world, wherever it may be.

Now, dear reader, for the purpose of our story, I will try to describe to you the wonders

Ebony saw. Though, please, bear with me, for these sights have never been illustrated for living

humans before, and for the weak minded, it may be safer to just put this book down (perhaps bury it

in some damp soil or toss it out to a stormy sea) and run away very fast. There are colors, sights,

sounds and tastes that humans were never meant to experience – and in fact, will never be able to

truly experience first hand. I’ll give you a moment to gather your wits……good? All right then. For those

of you who consider yourselves to be strong minded, then spectacular. You are my kind of people.

The place that lay behind the door could be compared to an old fisherman’s wharf. A long,

gray cobblestone street bordered the sea, hugging the dark, navy waters like an old friend. Shops of

all sizes lined the other side of the cobblestone lane, hands waving out of windows and voices shouting

out prices. The buildings rose at varying degrees, some coming only to Ebony’s knee, other’s reaching

so high she could not place the peak. The breeze from the sea had a sharp tang to it, as though it

were made of cinnamon or baking apples.

Creatures of all kinds littered the streets, tall and short, young and old, though none that Ebony had

ever seen before. There were some that were holed up in dark alleys, their bodies long and skinny,

noses huge and hooked, and though they looked slender, they sported a large potbelly. Their skin was

a pale, sickly color, their eyes small and black. Most wore only a pair of brown shorts made of rough

fabric, and all appeared male. Ebony began to see a pattern with these creatures, as they were often

seen with or near empty drink bottles. Sometimes they lay sprawled in the streets, sometimes swaying

among the other residents on the street, subjected to a drunken stupor. Several lurched towards her,

though Death shoved them away as if swatting a fly,

A race of dark-skinned, brightly dressed, people joined the fray. These looked slightly more

humanoid, and could probably pass as normal African-Americans on Earth, were it not for their

flamboyant red hair and long, snake like tongues. White tattoos decorated the bare chests of the

men, and the smooth faces of the women. Clothes were bright yellows, red, oranges, golds, and worn

loose and freely. A smile could be seen on every face. Their purple tongues showed when they

laughed, which they did quite often, and sometimes snaked out during conversation, as if it had a

mind of it’s own. Even Death had to stop and watch for a moment when they came across a pair of

younger ones ‘breathing’ fire.

There were many more that made up the crowd; Small pixie-like people with neon green

skin and long fingers that sometimes flitted into the pockets of passerby. Tall, giraffe like people, with

necks as long as their bodies, and strangely mouse like faces. More human looking creatures, with

curled ears and even curlier hair. Humongous, obese people who waddled down the street, a path

clearing for them wherever they went, head bald and eyes slanted shut. Slender women who’s bodies

were speckled with feathers and muscular men with piercing all over. Young children who barked when

they spoke and infants who napped in a rosy bubble, which was towed along by doting parents. There

were many more, but Ebony’s eyes, and her mind, could hardly take what she was seeing. Rushing to

catch up with Death (she had been right about not losing him in a crowd), Ebony weaved in and out of

people until she at last stood beside him. Stepping quickly, needing two strides to make of for only

one of his, Ebony spoke, while still glancing every which way.

“Where are we?” Ebony asked, wonder and amazement hushing her voice. She hurried to

stay close to Death, for fear she would be swallowed up by the bustle of activity.

“No, no,” Death wheezed out, sounding as though he were nursing a very bad headache, “I

need a drink first. I need a very strong drink.”

From the desperate tone of his voice, Ebony thought it would be best to agree. She followed

him down the wharf, watching while two of the flame colored people argued with a similar looking

woman over the price of a large fish. The woman, however, was dressed in earthy blues and browns,

and her face was wrinkled with age.

“People get old here?” Ebony thought, confused. She thought she had died. No, she was

sure she had died. Wasn’t that it? No more getting old. No more getting sick. No more anything. Yet,

here these people stood, looking almost more alive then the residents of Earth. These thoughts

pounded around in Ebony’s head, until she began to feel a bit of a headache herself.

At last, Death came to a halt. Ebony returned from her frenzied thought to see that they

had stopped in front of a pub, and Death was dragging her in. ‘Mih’Hedderin’ was scrawled on a large

wooden sign above the greasy and dusty door, and then again, frosted on the glass windows of the

bar. A bell gave a quiet ring as they entered, and Death made a beeline to a table in the far back. As

Ebony sat, a burst of dust puffed out from the old torn booth.

“Lovely,” Ebony said, giving Death a grim smile. She used her sleeve to wipe off the grimy

table, a layer of dust transferring to her shirt, before leaning against it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on yet?” Ebony asked. Death pointedly ignored her,

only gesturing to the large display of drink names for an answer. The confused girl sighed and sat

back in the booth, releasing another burst of dust, and looked around the shady pub. It was fairly

empty, with only a few of the scrawny, wormlike, drunks scattered about. The room was a circle shape,

with a round bar in the center. Ebony attempted not to stare at the bartender, a large, chubby, creature

with eight arms, all of which were busy mopping up counters or mixing drinks. What little light peeked

through the windows showcased sparkling dust that danced around as though they were in a ballroom

of the highest order. Ebony turned back to see that Death now had a drink in front of him, almost

magically, which he was slurping through a straw as if he had gone days without drink.

“Aaaallrighty then,” Death slurred, when he had consumed his beverage, “Let’s get you a

drink, ‘then we can get to ‘splaining.”

“Oh, no, I don’t drink,” Ebony protested half-heartedly, watching with amazement as Death

swayed a little bit on his path to the bar counter. He brought back two of the same drinks, which Ebony

regarded cautiously, wondering if she would be reduced to the state of Death as well. Slumping over

the table, Death gulped down the second drink in record time, then stared at Ebony’s drink.

“Go on, then, have a sip,” Death urged, resting his head on his cloaked fist. Ebony’s jaw

had dropped as she observed the insane change in personality. Mentally, Ebony added this trait to the

list of things she knew about Death - he cannot hold his liquor. Against her better judgment, Ebony

picked up the frothing, red drink and took a tentative sip. The taste was strangely nutty, with a sour

after taste. It was odd, but it wasn’t bad. Ebony ventured to take a slightly larger gulp.

“That’s no so ba- aagchk!” Ebony choked as a burning, bubbling sensation worked its way

up her throat and in her nose. She coughed madly, as Death laughed hysterically in front of her. When

they both had gained control, Ebony glared at Death with a fury unprecedented by anything she had

felt before. He seemed almost sheepish, as he reached over and took her glass finishing it himself.

Ebony patiently waited until he had finished before calling him a none too nice word.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t run right now,” she said, pointing a finger

accusingly at her tormenter. Death straightened up, slightly more serious, but not even close to

somber.

“Because you would probably be killed,” Death said, his usual icy chill snaking into the

comment.

“Again,” He added as an after thought. Ebony blinked, confused, then rubbed her eyes,

suddenly feeling very old. Her throat had cooled to a slightly pleasant tingle, but her brain was

beginning to get fuzzy, though if that were an after effect of the drink or the result of confusion, she

did not know.

“Okay,” Ebony said, slowly, rationally, “Let’s start over. Where are we?” Death clapped

happily and once again leaned forward on his fist.

“That’s an easy one,” he said, words bumping into each other like humans tend to on the

streets of New York, “We are in The Underworld. It’s were the beings that belong to neither Heaven nor

Hell reside. You have your nightmares, your hangovers, the glutton-beasts, your bad-ideas, the Wither

nymphs - who are the cause of bad luck, and a few Fitherworths as well. Every so often you might run

across a Prone, too, which is considered lucky. Of course, there are many more races that live here as

well, normalish ones - but that’s a general selection.” Death dropped his head to cradle in his

arms, “Next,” He said dreamily. Ebony resisted the laugh that threatened to push its way out of her,

and moved on to the next question.

“If this is where you go when you die, how come you just said that I could die again?”

Ebony asked, eyebrows furrowed by the question. Death raised his head.

“Remember, Ebony, if you were to have been sorted into Heaven or Hell, your situation

would be different. Think of it like this, when you die, your internal clock stops. When you are sorted,

you have the option to turn the clock back as far as you like. For instance, if you died at the age of 89

then you could request that your clock be turned back to 23. Bada-bing, bada-boom, instant fountain

of youth…However!” Death exclaimed suddenly, waving a hand towards Ebony, “When you were sorted,

your clock was merely revived.” Ebony failed to hold in a gasp.

“Revived? You mean to say I’m alive?” Ebony’s emerald eyes widened, her mouth open.

Death gave her a sad look, and waved over yet another drink.

“In a matter of speaking. You can never truly be alive again. However, you can die,” Death

saw that Ebony was confused again, and continued in his explanation, “When beings of the Underworld

die, they are re-incarnated onto Earth. Starting now, you’re a being of the Underworld.”

Ebony was silent, taking in everything Death had just told her. Everything she had ever

thought to be true hadn’t just been turned upside down. How many of the people she knew were re-

incarnated Underworld folk? Her mother? Her Chemistry teacher? Finch? It was too much to think about.

Ebony felt as though her mind was silly putty. She reached over and swiped Death’s drink, ignoring is

protests, and took a large swallow. Waiting until the buzz numbed her mind, Ebony asked her next

question, perhaps the most important one.

“What’s Imprinted?”

“SHHHHH!” Death spazzed, a pink limb reaching out to cover her mouth. He glanced around

franticly, as though she had given away some top secret government information.

“Not so damn loud!” he whispered, glancing around once more before removing his hand. He leaned

forward, close enough that Ebony could make out the faintest outline of a jaw under his heavy hood,

and began to murmur, “Look around you Ebony. What do you see?”

“Some drunken creatures and a bunch of dust,” she answered dryly, wondering where this

was going. Death, however, snapped her fingers as though she had solved an equation.

“Exactly!” he said, his voice lowering still, “You see The Underworld at its lowest state.

Though the Ferians still have the heart to laugh there is little joy in our home anymore. Every kingdom

needs a leader, and at the moment, The

Underworld is lacking in such. Our previous leader died recently, only a decade ago, and we have been

waiting for the soul that was destined to resume his place. Or rather, we were waiting for him-“ Ebony

cut Death off, waving her hands.

“Hold up! I don’t get it. He’s dead, but you’re waiting for him to come back and take over?”

“Remember, Ebony, remember,” Death hissed, “When beings of The Underworld die, what

happens?”

“They are re-incarnated,” Ebony said, grasping the point he was trying to make, “Okay so

we’re waiting for the re-incarnate of your King to appear in the human world, then die and return to the

Underworld.”

“Well, we’re not waiting anymore” Death said at a normal tone, sitting back and laying an

arm over the back of his booth, looking quite pleased with himself. Our heroine was silent for a second

before she grasped the weight of Death’s simple comment.

“No,” She said, her voice heavy with horror, “Oh no no no no no...I can’t be….I can’t….I’m a

girl! It doesn’t make sense!” Death watched her silently as she continued to argue. “It’s

impossible. I can’t be the King. Er, Queen. Whichever. I’m a female-“

“Yes you mentioned that,” Death pointed out unhelpfully.

“I’m sixteen – almost seventeen! You said your King died a decade ago!” Ebony pointed an

accusing finger at her designated reaper.

“Ah, actually,” Death began, waving the bartender over to order another drink, “The

Underworld is on a different time plane then Earth. It’s very possible that-“

“NO,” Ebony said, the word loud and final. Several of the bar’s attendees turned to stare,

then quickly went back to their drinks. Death skipped the straw this time, tilting his head back and

guzzling down the newly arrived beverage without stopping. This man gave new meaning to the

term ‘drowning his worries’.

“Too bad, so sad,” He sang with he was finished, rising back into the drunken high that he

had almost come down from. Then, he rose, swaying heavily from side to side, and beckoned Ebony

up. “C’mon Ebony!”

She stared at him, her mouth dropped again, and her eyes reflecting the unfairness she

felt. For a moment she considered leaving Death to get lost and fall into a drunk sleep in some gutter,

but decided against it seeing how he was her only way out of this place. So, with a resounding sigh,

Ebony stood and allowed Death to lean against her, lest he fall to the ground. Throwing a handful of

money at the bar (with terrible aim, I might add), Death directed his crutch out of the pub.

“Let’s go to the bestest Inn in-,” he laughed for a moment at the homophone, “-in the

wonderful Harbor. This-ah way!” he spouted, sounding like a child. Ebony grumbled, but headed off in

the direction his covered limb directed.

At last, after a long and embarrassing walk through the hoards of people, the odd couple

arrived at the apparent Inn. Ebony half dragged, half led Death through the doors, only to be greeted

by a large women with a bright smile. She was dressed in a springy green frock, a stained yellow apron

tied around her middle. Equally springy red hair bounced on her head, blue eyes sparkling.

“Well, hullo, Death hun!” she greeted happily, “You’re looking well!” Ebony thought perhaps

the woman was being sarcastic, but her joy was genuine.

“ ‘Ello Victoria,” Death smiled, drawing out her name.

“And look!” she laughed, all her sentences ending with a shout-like lilt, “You brought a little

nugger!” Accepting that she was being referred to as a ‘nugger’ Ebony smiled as politely as she could

under the circumstances.

“We’d like a room please,” She requested, shifting her weight as Death leaned even further

against her.

“Of course, of course!” Victoria shouted, dashing over to the Inn’s counter faster then Ebony

might have thought capable, “Room 145!” A small square key was pressed into Ebony’s hand, her

head patted by the gentle hand of the innkeeper before she was called off by another customer. The

gesture reminded Ebony of her mother, a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed it, more important

matter’s at hand, and stared with dismay at the stairs she was doomed to scale.

At last, huffing and puffing, Ebony and Death reached their room (the huffing and puffing

mostly emitting from Ebony) and the door was flung open. Ebony scornfully deposited Death on the

nearest bed, snores rising in the air almost immediately. With yet another sigh, Ebony flopped into the

bed, not bothering to slip under the covers. She had assumed she would be up forever, pondering the

information she had just consumed, but the second her head hit the puffy, if not old, mattress, Ebony

was asleep.

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Hello Everyone!

I had an unbeleivable amount of trouble with this chapter. DX My two largest trouble points were the description of the Underworld and Death's explanation to Ebony. Any and All constructive critisism is welcome! Thank you to all who read this!