Land of the Beautiful Dead

by R. Lee Smith

“No, it is not gentle, is it, to be saved?” he murmured, far above her. “But then, no one comes through that veil save that they are torn. And when it is done, I shall have these tatters to mend together into your eternal form. Hm.” He began to walk around her where she lay, circling slowly, inspecting every twitch and shudder with an assessing eye. “You say you wish to be raised up as you are, with all your mind and memory intact? So be it, but you will find memory is not a comfort to the dead. Every new day will bring you a thousand fresh reminders of how diminished your days have become. You will cut your hair and it will never grow again. You’ll never be hungry, but you may eat out of habit, only to find even lemon cake turns sour when it rots in your stomach. So you’ll stop, except on those rare occasions when you find yourself wondering what it tasted like and why you ever wanted it at all. Because you’ll forget, Lan. I can make you over in my image, but I can never make you as I am. Your flesh may be preserved as it was at the hour of your death, but your mind will remain mortal. Year by year, the hard edges that separate then from now will wear soft away and you’ll wonder…were they peaches I picked, or apples? Were there ever really Eaters or were they only monsters from a dream I had once, when I used to dream? In time, you will forget how it felt to be alive and remember only that you were…until I took it from you. And you will hate me.”