{"id":2328,"date":"2021-12-18T14:51:36","date_gmt":"2021-12-18T21:51:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2328"},"modified":"2021-12-18T14:51:36","modified_gmt":"2021-12-18T21:51:36","slug":"late-for-the-last-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2021\/12\/18\/late-for-the-last-time\/","title":{"rendered":"Late for the Last Time"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Start\u00a0your story with a character who is always running late arriving somewhere just\u00a0as it closes.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liv hadn\u2019t been on time for anything, ever, and this was no different. She knew it would still be there later, after all, and she\u2019d had things she had to do<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doors were massive, imposing. She took a deep breath and started toward them before stopping. Liv looked at the summons again. She was more than just a little late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liv shrugged. What are they going to do, sue me?<\/em> she thought. As she began to climb the stairs toward the doors, they began to swing close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stairs were interminable. She wondered how they accommodated the handicapped. There were no ramps in sight, and no signage for accessible entry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liv continued to trudge up the stairs while the doors continued their slow, stately arches, moving inexorably closed. She was surprised that she hadn\u2019t gotten short of breath on such a massive staircase, but she wasn\u2019t going to run and risk tumbling back down them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even if the doors closed before she got there, she could truthfully claim she\u2019d been here, but slowed down by the stairs. She noticed, now that she was closer to the massive doors, that there seemed to be person-sized doors set within the main doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wondered why a place like this insisted on such grandiose, over-the-top displays of power and authority. We get it, already,<\/em> she thought, we\u2019re peons and you\u2019re all the overlords of everything. Sheesh.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liv climbed the last dozen steps as the massive doors closed with an almost imperceptible click. Not the massive thump she\u2019d expected. That quiet click held the uncomfortable feeling of finality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stepped to one of the person-sized doors set in the bottom of the main doors that stood at least four stories tall. With a deep breath and final resignation, she knocked on the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No sooner had she knocked than the small door slid open. The man who stood before her in a grey suit made her uneasy. He was nondescript, bland-faced and forgettable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOlivia Marcos-Gonzales, you are late,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had things to do,\u201d she said, \u201cand it\u2019s not like you\u2019re going anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFrom the moment of your birth, two weeks late, you have never<\/em> been on time for anything.\u201d He looked at a tablet in his hand that she hadn\u2019t seen before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, everyone knows that about me,\u201d she said with a shrug. \u201cMy friends don\u2019t mind, and my family\u2019s used to it. My boss understands, and I get paid piece work rather than hourly. At least my work is always impeccable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour friends tolerated you, your family reached the end of their tolerance long ago, and your boss only assigned you work that had no deadline.\u201d He swiped the tablet to a new page. \u201cThe closest you have been to appearing at an appointment on time was during your second year of school, when you were seven minutes late for your school photo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, come on,\u201d Liv said. \u201cYou can\u2019t blame me for being late in grade school! My mother never got me to anything on time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was always you<\/em> that slowed her<\/em> down,\u201d he said. \u201cAny time you were not a factor, your mother arrived on time or early. You acted as an anchor, slowing her down, and causing her no end of stress.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liv bit her lip. She felt the truth in his words. As much as she didn\u2019t like to admit it herself, she was a burden to everyone around her. \u201cI\u2026I\u2019m sorry.\u201d Her voice was as small as she felt at that moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man turned off the tablet and it disappeared from his hand. \u201cIt seems only fitting,\u201d he said, \u201cthat you are subjected to this.\u201d He pointed to the stairs behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She turned to look, and the stairs seemed to descend forever into darkness. \u201cWhat? What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs unlikely as it sounds, you arrived at hell as we closed the gates for eternity.\u201d He raised a hand. \u201cBefore you ask, heaven closed thousands of years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThousands of years? What are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are the last human soul. We\u2019ve waited for you as long as we could, but we must move to a new universe now, so that all the other human souls can be reborn into new forms.\u201d A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. \u201cOlivia Marcos-Gonzales, you will remain in this universe until its eventual heat death, after which you will be forever in an eternal void\u2026alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d she said, \u201cyou\u2019re here, I\u2019m here, the door\u2019s open, let\u2019s just move on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The smile dropped from the man\u2019s face. \u201cThat\u2019s where you are wrong. You are here, I am not. The door is not open, just a facsimile in order to pass your judgement. We have already gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBu\u2014but\u2026I had things to take care of! It\u2019s not like I was just wandering around doing nothing!\u201d she cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOlivia Marcos-Gonzales, that\u2019s exactly<\/em> what you\u2019ve been doing. For three thousand years you wandered the Earth as a ghost, never moving on, never accomplishing anything. Then you spent a billion more making your way here. You have always been and will always be nothing but a faceless wanderer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTh\u2014three\u2026thousand<\/em>\u2026years? Then a billion more?\u201d she asked. \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTime moves differently for the dead, but then, time has always moved differently for you, hasn\u2019t it?\u201d A frown darkened his face. \u201cHad you made this one<\/em> appointment on time, you\u2019d find yourself being birthed on a new world, in a new universe, right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut I\u2019m stuck here forever?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIndeed.\u201d He smirked with a perverse joy. \u201cPerhaps now,\u201d he said, \u201cyou\u2019ll have enough time to do all your very important things<\/em>. No one will ever bother you or ask you to hurry up, ever again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man took a step backwards and the small door slid closed. The massive doors in front of her shimmered and disappeared. Liv looked around. With the building gone, she found herself floating in the void of space, watching the stars wink out, one by one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

prompt: Start\u00a0your story with a character who is always running late arriving somewhere just\u00a0as it closes. available at Reedsy Liv hadn\u2019t been on time for anything, ever, and this was no different. She knew it …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[208],"tags":[216,210,209],"class_list":["post-2328","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-trunk-stories","tag-fantasy","tag-fiction","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pxT7i-By","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2328","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2328"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2328\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2329,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2328\/revisions\/2329"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2328"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2328"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2328"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}