Under the Whispering Door

by T.J. Klune

Death isn’t a final ending, Wallace. It is an ending, sure, but only to prepare you for a new beginning.”

Look: I don’t know what happens when we close our eyes for the last time. My faith—if it could be called that—isn’t in a higher power, but in people. Messy, cruel, wonderful people. They disappoint me more than they make me happy, but there is nothing like humanity, even with all its faults. Maybe nothing happens when we go. Maybe everything happens. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s as I’ve written, and we are taken to a queer (in both senses of the word) little shop in the middle of the woods where kind, empathetic people are waiting for us with a hot cup of tea and a shoulder to lean on. After all, I think we deserve a bit of respite after the journey of life. A stop in our travels where we could think, breathe, and hope. I don’t know if we could ask for anything more.