The Poet's Dreams

She'd always believed that when she died, she would go to Heaven. She couldn't say she understood what that meant, because she didn't really know what Heaven was supposed to look like. Golden, probably. Or white? If it was in the clouds, was it always wet? She wanted it to be in the clouds, but she didn't want to sit in water. She'd fall.

And she didn't fully understand the concept.

How could a world with so many shades of grey be broken down into black and white? Good and bad? Heaven and Hell? If she spent her entire life doing good things, for evil, selfish, cruel reasons... where was she destined to be? And if Heaven has no sin, as her best friend had tried to explain to her, then which sin is it lacking? Old Testament, or New?

She was always questioning it, and so when it came time for her to pass on, she was less upset that she had died, and more intrigued, anticipating answers.

But she didn't go to Heaven, and she didn't go to Hell.

She didn't know where she went, but it looked an awful lot like Arizona, and that concerned her, because she had lived a good life, and if Arizona was supposed to be Heaven, that wasn't a proper reward.

Of course, she liked the state. She just didn't consider it paradise. Paradise was expected. At the very least, They could have sent her to Europe.

Regardless, there she was, in a place that was frighteningly reminiscent of Arizona, perched atop a gravestone that was probably placed there illegally. Except... she didn't know where she actually was.

Was there even a government?

She found herself unmotivated to venture the area, despite a burning curiosity, and instead she leaned over to inspect her seat. It was cold, white marble, shining in the hot, probably-not-Arizona sun.

It was blank.

But she knew she was connected to it, in some way or another. It wasn't hers. But it wanted to be, and so it was waiting to receive her name. Patiently waiting. There was no rush. She could come when she was good and ready to.

Except she thought she was ready, but there she sat. On the grave, not under. Not... in?

She ran a finger over the smooth surface, burying her toes in the sand as realization flooded her mind. Purpose.

She had a purpose.

She was here to wait for him. This place wasn't real. It wasn't reality, but it was the truth, and she had never understood it. She probably never would. But if she had him, he would help her. They would help each other.

Neither of them were sane.

A smile dawned over her lips, and she laughed, high and clear. It echoed, magnified, over every grain of sand.

He was the king.

And she was the queen.

Neither of them were able to view reality, but they could at least find the truth, together. She felt beside her. A deck of cards. She'd made them herself, and she liked them much better than regular playing cards.

A quick shuffle echoed more loudly than her laughter did, and she placed two cards in front of the grave.

She didn't know what they meant, but she knew they were only for the dead.

Which she was.

But as for him... she'd just have to wait and see.

So there she sat, by a road. Just one lane. Patiently waiting, just like the grave, for her king.

She smiled.