Two Eyes Cenote Every story I create, creates me.

Lovely quote in full "Every story I create, creates me. I write to create myself." By Octavia E.Butler.

So far Wraen had followed the voices she heard calling her name through time and space. But her circle of acquaintances and friends had grown very small in her absence.  She had visited nearly all of them by now. Tied some loose ends, hopefully, given some consolation or advice. Or simply got the glimpse, the sense of being alive for a while. She had expected that with this done, she would disappear again. And it did not happen. So all of a sudden her ghostly self found out that she did not have a clear idea, what to do next. 

Therefore she simply glided and flickered from one place to the next. Observing people busy with their lives, creating their stories every day and having no power of, what would fate bring them the next. It was interesting to see, how this happened from a place, where her time was no longer ticking away. Wraen's figurative clock had stopped and in a way - she realized - she had become trapped in the absence of time. She found she envied the living a bit, because they still had purpose in their lives, they dreamt, they planned, they plotted. They had the factor of unexpectability. Never knowing, what waited you around the next roadbend.

Compared to them - the ruefulness of the life after death seemed bleak and uneventful. She had retained her power of creativity in her own pocket of paradise. And the only thing that she was left wondering about was, whether this was to last forever or there was an expiry date to her existence there too. That maybe there was another level waiting. In the end Wraen decided to shelf the thoughts of the architecture of the afterlife to that moment, when she would be bound to return. Instead - she could imagine, while here, being one of the living. A transparent one with some magical abilities, but one of the tribe nonetheless. 

And part of the experience had to include exploring. She closed her eyes and simply thought - bring me somewhere I have never been before. Miracle, miracle - she really found herself in place that was no less marvelous and odd than any of her daydreams of leisurely days.