My Life as a Receptionist in the Afterlife

Chapters

Welcome to the afterlife! Now get to work.
The Dreamer
The Flame
The Grateful

Welcome to the afterlife! Now get to work.

My life as a toaster repair pony. Wait... no, that's not right. Let's try this again.

My life as a receptionist in the afterlife.

For years, a wise pony by the name of Sage stood on the threshold of death, ever ready to welcome the recently deceased and guide them into the ever after. Be it with words of wisdom, a caring shoulder, or a gentle nod, he would help them accept their demise and move on into the great beyond. Innumerable souls had been guided to their eternal rest by his stewardship, and ponies were happy. It was, however, not meant to last. The position of receptionist was but a job, one that was passed down from one to the next every eleven years at the peak of the solar cycle. And as it just so happened, I'd gotten a hold of some berries that turned out to be poisonous at the same time that Sage's time as receptionist was up. And that, my dear ponies, is how I became the bridge between death and the afterlife.

I had no idea what I was in for.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

That day started the same as many before it, the dawn's light finding me already slashing my way through the forest in search of treasure. I'd recently decoded a message that I'd discovered during a previous expedition, one that pointed towards an undiscovered temple in the heart of the everfree. In my rush to get back on the hunt, I'd decided not to eat breakfast, choosing to pick and eat the numerous berries growing along the trail. Perhaps it was due to the faint light of the dawn, or maybe I'd gotten complacent in the light of my recent successes, but I somehow managed to overlook the nightshade berries growing amongst the wild berries.

One minute I was walking through the forest on my way to an ancient temple in the Everfree, munching on some berries I'd picked on the way. The next thing I knew, everything was shifting and moving in ways it shouldn't as my head began to spin. There was a faraway feeling of pain in my stomach, and then I was falling as everything went black. I never felt myself hit the ground. That blackness was the worst sensation I'd ever felt, and I'd been bitten by more poisonous creatures than I cared to count. The blackness wasn't a feeling so much as a lack of feeling, of sensation at all. There was no light. I was not hot, nor was I cold; I lacked feeling entirely. There were no sounds to be heard, and even the taste of the berries had left my mouth. There was nothing but my thoughts, which buzzed through my head incoherently, like a swarm of bees. Was I dead, or merely unconscious? I didn't feel dead, nor did I really feel unconscious; I usually dreamed when I was unconscious, and this wasn't any dream of mine. Ahead there appeared a light, the first break from the blackness since it had closed in. The light was growing rapidly closer and brighter, becoming blinding in only a heartbeat. I squeezed my eyes shut against the light, barely taking note of the fact that I could now feel them.

Opening my eyes, I was initially baffled. I was in an elevator? A cursory investigation of my surroundings revealed that I was indeed inside of an elevator. Finely furnished in dark mahogany wood and brass trim, this lift seemed like it belonged in the palace at Canterlot. The only indication of movement or destination was the illuminated "up" arrow, and the likewise illuminated single button on the control panel. The button bore not a number, but a letter; the letter "L". Just then, the elevator dinged softly to indicate its arrival, but the vessel failed to lurch to a stop as one would expect. Either the elevator hadn't been moving at all, or somepony was building a better elevator. The doors slid open with a slight hiss, revealing a lobby. A lobby?

This dream just kept getting stranger and stranger.

The room was rather large, roughly thirty meters square, and seemed to be made entirely of white marble. In places, there were golden accents and trim pieces. The ceiling was around twenty meters high, sporting an ornate golden chandelier from its center. On the sides of the lobby, there were some small trees and fountains, evenly spaced between benches. There was a lone desk along the far wall, and to the left of the desk was a single ornate golden door. Behind the desk there stood an older stallion with a shock of grey hair, one who greeted me with a tired smile. Stepping around the desk, he strode towards me like an old friend. I strode towards him in kind, hoping that he could answer my burning questions. When he got within three meters of me, he said something that stopped me dead in my tracks; he called my name.

"Jade, it is so good to see you."

"Do I... do I know you? Where am I? Am I dead?"

"You don't know me, but I know you. My name is Sage, and I am the receptionist for the afterlife. I assume this answers your questions?"

"Afterlife? So, after all I've been through; berries. Not crocodiles, not ancient traps and poison darts, but berries. That's what finally did me in. Go. Figure."

"Look at this not as the end, but as a fresh beginning, full of possibilities."

"Yeah, not like I can do anything about being dead. I can't, right? Dead is dead?"

"Dead is indeed dead. You, however, have been chosen for a very important task; you must complete this task before you can move on into the ever after."

"A task? What's this about a task? What am I supposed to do?"

"You are being given a sacred duty, one that has been handed down for millennia. You have been chosen as the next receptionist."

"But why? Why me? Besides, what does a receptionist even do?"

"You have been chosen for the same reason that we all are. You've lived a good life, though not one without evil. You have done something terrible in your past, and this is your opportunity to atone for it."

I swallowed a lump of ice that had formed in my throat. Any lingering doubts I'd harbored as to whether or not I was truly in the afterlife suddenly vanished. Many years ago when I was young and arrogant, I'd done a selfish deed that had carried a terrible price. Nearly a dozen ponies had died because of my actions.

"But how? How was I chosen for this, out of all the ponies in the world?"

"I cannot say. All I really know is that the Codex has chosen you. Be thankful though; most who die with evil in their hearts are not given the chance for redemption."

The somber tone of Sage's voice brokered no response. A heavy silence hung over us like a shroud for several tense seconds. Trying to hide my fear under a mask of confidence, I leveled my best Discord-may-care gaze at Sage and issued a challenge.

"And what if I refuse?"

His features immediately darkened, tinted by equal parts anger and fear as he responded in a menacingly soft voice.

"You don't want to do that. Receptionist is a mercy, one that is not extended twice. Should you refuse your duties at any time, try to move on before you've served your pennance, or fail to tend to your guests with the respect they deserve, then you will find yourself being dragged down into the fiery lakes of Tartarus by the chains you've forged I'm life."

I gulped audibly as my rough-and-tumble adventurer act gave way to fear. On second thought, this receptionist gig didn't seem so bad after all.

"You know, on the other hoof, this seems like a nice job. So, yeah... what do I have to do?"

A curt nod seemed to say "I thought as much" before he replied. His voice was no longer laden with fear or anger, having instead returned to the tone of quiet reverence he'd used before.

"You stand as the buffer between death and the afterlife. Your purpose is to help the dead move on to the ever after, and to do this they must be at peace; you are the one who must help them find closure. Also, on occasion, you'll have to make coffee and wax the floors. But mostly, guide the guests to the ever after."

The ominous tone of his response was shattered by the sheer absurdity of the part about coffee. Shaking my head to knock the cobwebs loose, I concluded that he had, in fact, said what I thought I'd heard. True to form, I blurted the first thing that came to mind before I'd had a chance to think it over. Thankfully, Sage seemed to have a sense of humor.

"Coffee? Really? Am I supposed to fetch the paper as well?"

Either Sage missed my sarcasm or he was returning the favor, for he stroked his chin thoughtfully as he replied.

"I've never had the Codex ask for the paper, but I suppose it is possible."

I fought valiantly, barely restraining my urge to facehoof, choosing to groan instead. About that time, something he'd said struck me as odd.

"Wait, what's this Cold-decks thing? You mentioned it earlier, but it only just occurred to me that I don't know what it is."

"The Codex is many things, but that will come later. All things in due time."

"Well that was insightful. So this is it? Herd the dead to the ever after and take orders from the Codex?"

"Herd? Herd? Jade, these are ponies, not mindless animals. They have families and friends; they love, and are loved in return. They will be your friends, family. When they walk through that elevator door, they'll have just been torn from everything they've ever known and loved, and they will be hurting. They need to find acceptance and solace before they can have peace, and you are the one who must lead them."

I felt pretty terrible right about then. I might have been joking, but this was no laughing matter. Solemnly, I nodded my head as the immensity of this responsibility started to become clear. This, however, was nothing more than the opening credits; the real story has yet to begin. Once I'd accepted my fate, I became acutely aware of exactly how little I knew about being a receptionist, let alone to the afterlife.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Luckily, I had Sage with me for the first half hour or so, in order to help me adjust to my new job and the various pitfalls. The first thing he did was hand me a book, no bigger than my wallet. This book was trimmed in jade and gold, the same color as my eyes and mane, respectively. The book, he explained, was simply called the Codex. There were many names for it, along with fancy titles and such, but it was the Codex, plain and simple. This was not your run of the mill book, however; it was a little bit... magical. In the Codex, you could find the name and summarized life story of everypony that had ever died, along with a picture and how they died. Much to my pleasure, the picture was of them in the prime of life, rather than at the moment of death. In the Codex, it mattered not to which page you turned; the page you landed on would have what you needed. Not necessarily what you were looking for, or even what you wanted, but always what you needed. This was very useful, explained Sage, though equally frustrating from time to time. To prove this to me, Sage hoofed me the Codex and told me to flip through it.

As he tossed it to me, the Codex opened up to expose a very familiar face at the top of the page. I was staring into my own face, as it would look if I'd taken the time to brush my mane and apply a little bit of makeup. Not the garish warpaint that some mares walked around with, but something to tastefully accentuate my natural beauty. Or at least, that's what the mare at the boutique had told me. The picture looked like it had been taken recently, since it had my new haircut on it, something I'd only had for a few days. My golden locks had been cropped close to my head so that they didn't get tangled in the bushes while I was trekking through the woods. The stylist (who was, coincidentally, the one who'd done my makeup) had cropped it closer in the back and longer in the front, a style that she claimed would draw focus to my eyes. I'd always liked my eyes, and the picture in the Codex really made them look stunning. They were a shade of the most vivid jade, flecked with the same gold as my mane. Those gold flecks were catching the light, causing them to sparkle. My mother had named me after my eye color, and she always insisted that my name was as pretty as my eyes. The only thing about the picture in the Codex that I didn't like was the color of my coat. In the picture, my coat appeared faded, bleached; what should have been a deep emerald shade was more along the lines of spring green.

Beside the picture, there was a short summary of my life. Born in Filly, moved to Ponyville eight years ago, kissed Caramel under the slide in kindergarten...

"Wait. How the... nopony saw that! How did that get into this book? Oh, if Caramel blabbed about that to somepony, I'll kill him so hard, he dies. To death."

Sage favored me with a raised eyebrow for a moment before reminding me that I was deceased, and would be incapable of doing so. To this, I replied with a whine, something along the lines of how I needed to kill him, because he blabbed about something nopony could know about, before Sage's words from earlier came back to haunt me. From memory, I repeated what he'd told me, verbatim.

"This book is magic. And it tells you what you need it to, not what you want it to."

He simply grinned at me.

"Correct. It has demonstrated as much, has it not? Are you not convinced?"

I sighed, hanging my head.

"Well... I guess. Yeah, I am. Caramel lucked out that time. Nopony breaks a promise with Jade the Spade."

"Your treasure hunting name?"

Though treasure hunting is exactly what I did for a living, I'd long ago found that most ponies thought of treasure hunters (with the exception of Daring Do) as vermin. In response, I'd come up with a deflection for the term.

"Not treasure hunting, paleo-cryptology. I solve ancient puzzles, it's my special talent. It just so happens that these puzzles tend to have valuable items as a prize, and is purely coincidental."

Sage said nothing; instead, he smiled. This buck was a strange one, and I couldn't help but like him for it. Our bonding time was cut short by the familiar ding of the elevator. As the doors slid open, Sage turned to me and informed me that he'd be assisting me with the first few "guests", as he called them, before he took his long awaited trip to the other side. I wanted to tell him how much I admired his dedication and appreciated his help, but the sound of hoofsteps came closer and cut me short.

The steps rang out from the hooves of an elderly mare, one whose eyes were wide with foal-like wonder. Her gaze roamed across the lobby, marveling at each detail. She soon grew nearer to us, and asked the question I'd been waiting for.

"Pardon my intrusion, miss. Am I dead?"

"Yep."

Sage shot me a look to tell me that I needed to rethink my blunt approach, though the mare didn't seem to mind. She smiled broadly, though she still seemed hesitant.

"Are you quite sure that this is really the afterlife?"

"Actually ma'am, this is the lobby. The afterlife is behind the next door."

"Oh, good. It's been three years since my husband passed, and I can't wait to see him again... I've missed him terribly since he left."

I was a bit shocked by the candid response. Being that this was my first guest, I hadn't a clue what to expect. As I hesitated, thinking of a proper response, the older mare turned her head towards the golden door.

Is that the door?"

Initially taken aback by her declaration that she was happy to be dead, as I saw the tears begin to moisten the edges of her eyes and heard the emotion in her voice, I understood. She'd been waiting for the reaper not as a thing to be feared, but as an old friend. I flipped open the Codex, and I read enough to confirm this. Her name was Mabel, her husband died of pneumonia three years ago, she had no siblings still alive, and her children had all moved out and had children of their own. There was almost nothing to tie her to her old life, and it was easy to see why she wanted to move on. She stood there patiently, waiting for my answer about the door. Unable to find the words I needed, I nodded simply as I stepped to the side. She looked at me with a warm smile, looking positively giddy to see what lay behind the door. She gave me a nod as she stepped away from me, towards the door. She paused for a moment just in front of the door, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Then, with a filly-like giggle, she pushed open the door. There was a flash of light, and then she was gone.

I stood there for a moment, wondering what it must have been like to live a life so long and full of love and happiness that death should come as an old friend. It saddened me to think that I'd never get to know what that was like. I'd never had a chance to settle down, to start a family... and now, I never would. Sage pulled me out of this downward spiral of thought with a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned to face him, blinking away some dust that had somehow gotten into my eye and made it water.

"Sage? Are they always that easy? To get them to move on, I mean..."

Sage did what Sage does best and said nothing. Not that he needed to speak... his expression said it all. There was pain in his eyes, and it was plain as day. A heavy silence descended upon us like a shroud; the only sound came from the gentle gurgle of the fountains. Sage seemed to be focused on something in the distance, and I was contemplating my own mortality; the seconds stretched into minutes as solitude reigned. A soft ding pierced the silence, signalling the arrival of another guest.

The doors slid open, admitting a younger buck, perhaps in his mid twenties. My age. Blinking against the bright light of the lobby, he stumbled out of the elevator. I vaguely recognized him as one of my classmates in anthropology. I flipped open the Codex, and sure enough, he was. I couldn't help but wonder what it is that he was doing here. Obviously, he was here because he had died within the confines of Ponyville or the adjoining forest, but I had to wonder how. Hesitantly, I called out to him. His head whipped around at the sound of my voice, and he stared at me like he was seeing a ghost... which, for all intents and purposes, he was.

"Clay? What happened to you?"

"Jade?Jade?! What the- where have you been for the last three months? Everypony in town has been worried sick about you!"

I was dumbstruck. Months? What was all of this talk about months? I'd only been dead for half an hour, maybe forty minutes, tops.

"Uh... months? I've only been gone for a little while, certainly not months. What happened to you, though? Why are you here?"

"Jade, is this some kind of sick joke? I was part of the recovery team sent to comb the forest so your family could have closure. Last thing I remember was being in the forest. And wolves. Something about wolves... I don't know, it's a bit fuzzy right now. What is this place? Wait, never mind, that's not important right now. You can explain all of that on the way back to town. Where's the exit?"

"Clay, I can't leave here. Neither can you."

"Don't be silly, your family is waiting for you. All they expected was a body, something to bury... but now I've found you, and they're going to be so happy! So quit your fooling around, and let's go."

"Clay, we can't leave."

"Oh, really? And who's going to stop us? That guy?"

"Clay, we're dead. This... this is the afterlife."

"That's not funny at all. Don't joke like that. Now come on, we need to go now."

"Clay, it's not a joke. I ate some nightshade berries by accident, and you... you were killed by the wolves"

"I... the wolves? Oh my- oh. I-I remember now. It was terrible."

"I'm sorry, Clay. This is the end of the line, for the both of us. Your next adventure awaits you on the other side of that door. All you have to do is step through."

"Why does it sound like you aren't coming with me?"

"Because I can't. I have to stay here to help others find peace and cross over, at least until the eleven years are up."

"What? Why do you... eleven years?"

"I know, it confuses me too. I just know that this is what I'm meant to do. I'm sure I'll catch up to you on the other side, and maybe we can go treasure hunting together?"

"Huh. Yeah, I guess. I- I'd like that. I guess I'll wait for you on the other side, then?"

"I'll be there before you know it, okay Clay?"

"Promise?"

"I- I promise, Clay."

"Alright, Jade. I... this is a lot to take in, but I trust you. I'll see you soon."

"Take care, Clay."

He took a step towards the golden door, but he faltered for a moment. Just as I was about to ask him if he was alright, he turned around and quickly planted a kiss on my cheek before turning and booking it for the door. In shock, I raised a hoof to my cheek, feeling the heat already rising from it as my cheeks burned. I just stared after him as he opened the door, turning at the last moment to look back at me and smile. The light flared and he was gone, but his smile still hung in my mind's eye. I locked that memory away in a special place, vowing to come back to it when I had a moment to myself. In the meantime, I had some questions for Sage.

"Why didn't you tell me that the time here was all... weird? I've been here for less than an hour, and three months have passed? What the heck, guy?"

"You never asked. And no, the time here doesn't sync up with the time there.Three months have passed there, but you are only an hour into your duties. Here, time is not linear, nor does it pass at an even rate. It's like a tangled ball of yarn, and each pony that comes through the door comes to you for a reason. "

"That seems like something you might want to mention up front. And then it raises the question, how do I keep track of the time here?"

"Well, now you know to mention that to your replacement when the time comes. As for just when that time is, you'll know when you open the Codex and see a gold border on their photo, and not a minute before. Really, this job is very simple in concept, though difficult in execution. There's not too much more I can tell you. Most of this, you'll have to figure out on your own as you find out what works best for you."

"Great. More mysteries."

"So it is in life, so too is it in death. One more guest, and then this is your show. I'll finally get to meet someone who's been waiting a long time to see me."

"Okay, one more. I want you to stay longer, to be around in case I need your help, but I know that's not fair. You've waited long enough as is."

As if on cue, there arose a soft ding from across the lobby. Adjusting to my new role far quicker than I had anticipated, I drew myself up to my full height and prepared what I thought to be my most comforting smile. The door opened and my smile faltered. This... this couldn't be right. She was just a little filly, looking lost and scared. Nervously, she peeked out of the elevator, as if searching for someone.

"Mommy?"

Oh...oh no. Please, no.

"Mommy? Mommy, where are you?"

I could feel my eyes begin to burn as the tears threatened to spill. I blinked them away, opening the Codex to distract me from the heartwrenching scene in front of me. Hoping against hope that this was a mistake, I flipped through the pages as I searched for confirmation that it was. Instead, I found exactly what I'd feared.. The girl's name was Belle, and she was six years old. She'd died of an undiagnosed heart condition while she played with her friends in the park. I closed the Codex, wiping away the tear that misted my eye. I shrank to my knees, setting the Codex on the floor and opened my arms to the poor child.

"It's okay, sweetie. You can come out. You're safe here; I'll take care of you."

Slowly, achingly slowly, Belle ventured out of the elevator, dragging a stuffed bear.

"Lady, can you help me find my mommy? I can't find her, and I'm scared... I want to go home, I miss my mommy."

I could swear I felt my heart breaking. Such a sweet, vulnerable foal. I could not help but ask myself, why her? Why so young? It seemed cruel beyond measure to give parents such a beautiful little filly, only to steal her from them like this..

"I-I'll help you find your mommy, sweetie. My name is Jade, what's yours?"

"My- my name is Belle, and I'm six and a half years old. Thank you for helping me find my mommy, miss Jade. I just hope she isn't super-duper mad at me for getting lost. I mean, I didn't mean to! It's not my fault! Billy stole Mister Fluffy and ran away, so I had to chase him. And then... and then I was all alone inside that little room, and I got scared, and... and... and I miss my mommy!"

Belle had been walking closer as she spoke, and she seemed to open up a bit as she did so. As she got to that last part, about being in the elevator, she began to drag her hooves and stare at the ground. Her voice was getting smaller and more frail with each step, until her final declaration. As she wailed those last five words, she broke down crying as she ran into my arms and hugged me tight. I sat down heavily as she crashed into me, hugging her back and rocking her in my arms as I whispered that it was going to be okay now, that I had her. I did my best not to cry, trying to be strong for this little filly. She whimpered pitifully in my arms, and the sound was tearing at a part of me that I couldn't quite come to terms with.

I just sat there and held the filly as she bawled, not knowing what else to do. I slowly rocked her, quietly shushing her and telling her that everything was alright. A few minutes passed before her cries began to fade. When I asked her if she wanted a short ride, she nodded slowly. I loosened my embrace and allowed her to escape before lying on the ground so she could climb on my back. Once she was situated, I slowly rose to my hooves, taking her around the lobby and making sound effects as I did do. From the corner of my eye, I could see Sage watching me with an almost pained smile. I circled back to the golden door before setting Belle back on her own four hooves. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hoof as she stared at me with those big, watery eyes.

"Miss Jade? Where is my mommy? You said you would take me to her."

"I know sweetie, and I am. She's right on the other side of the door, all you have to do is open it and walk through."

"But Miss Jade, I'm scared. I don't want to go alone. Will you go with me?"

"I... I can't, sweetie. I have to stay here and help other ponies."

"But-but I don't wanna go alone. I don't want to be alone again!"

Just as I was beginning to panic, Sage walked up behind me, breaking the stalemate with a gentle tone.

"Little Miss Belle, Miss Jade has to stay here, but I can take you to find your mommy, if you want. I have a daughter about your age, my little princess, who went through these doors before I got here. I'll be looking for her as I help you find your mommy, and if we find my princess first, maybe you two can make friends while we try to find your mommy?"

Sniffling, Belle nodded as she wiped away another tear. I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Sage had lost his daughter... and then after he died, he had to wait eleven more years to see her.

"But... what if my mommy is mad at me? I've been gone a really long time..."

"Little Miss Belle, my princess has been gone a really long time, too. But I'm not mad at her, I'll just be happy to see her again. And do you know what I'm going to do when I find her?"

Belle just nodded, eyes wide as Sage commanded her full attention.

"Well, first, I'm going to scoop her up, like this!"

As he said this, Sage swooped down and scooped the filly into an embrace, causing Belle to shriek and giggle with delight.

"And once I have her all scooped up, I'm going to tickle her... like this!"

The shrieking and giggles redoubled for a bit before dying down as Sage ceased his tickling.

"After I tickle her, then I'm going to hug her and squeeze her tight. While I've got her in my arms, after I've heard the sweet sound of her laugh again, I'm going to tell her that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when she needed me, that I couldn't protect her. Finally, I'll ask her to forgive me for what I've done."

The joy and energy Sage had started with bled away as he spoke, his voice becoming raw with emotion as he imagined the impending reunion. Belle didn't seem to understand what was going on, and she continued to smile at him with a toothy grin. For the first time, I noticed that she was missing a tooth, and her cute little smile was made all the cuter by the gap in it. Having collected himself, Sage spoke up once more.

"I miss my princess, and I'm just going to be happy to see her again; I'm sure your mommy will be the same way. I'll be with you the whole entire time, I promise. Do you want a pony-back ride as we look?"

Sniffling again, Belle nodded, looking up at Sage with a small smile as she scrambled onto his back, giggling all the while. Sage smiled warmly at the little girl, reaching up to the handle.

"Are you ready, Little Miss Belle?"

She smiled up at him and nodded. Sage looked back at me and gave me a slight nod as he pulled the handle. There was a flash of light, and then they were gone. In the last hour, I'd gone through more emotional fluctuations than I had in the previous five years, and I was feeling more than a little shell shocked. I was numb for a time, sitting alone in the lobby with naught but the gurgle of fountains for company. But then, the tears came; and they just kept coming.

I was the receptionist for the afterlife, but that would have to wait. For now, I was just a scared filly trying to come to terms with her own death, and the reality that this was the end.

The elevator was mercifully silent as I broke down and wept.

Author's Note

So here it is. This is a short story of mine, knee that might be expanded on a little bit in the future. This is but a rough draft, as I cannot properly edit it on my tablet our phone. At any rate, I hope it's enough to peak your interest. And remember not to judge it too harshly, as it is only a rough draft.

The Dreamer

I don't know how long I laid there behind the desk, grieving over my own death and lamenting all of the things I'd never done. Not like it really mattered, anyways... time here didn't pass the same way as it did in life. After what seemed to me like hours, I had cried myself out of tears, my emotions spent. As I collected myself, I began to feel a little bit foolish for letting my emotions control me like that. I mean, granted, death is kind of a big thing to deal with, but I didn't become Jade the Spade by being emotional. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself, determined to be ready for the next guest. Keeping with its habit of being eerily punctual, the elevator dinged.

Blinking the last of the moisture out of my eyes, I put on my best smile as the door opened. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss, and a mare about my age stepped out. Immediately, this one seemed to be... different somehow. She strode forward confidently, almost as if she owned the place. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she wandered around the lobby, investigating the fountains and their intricate carvings. My presence was either missed or ignored, as the mare made no move to greet me. Honestly, I found her behavior to be baffling, and I opened the Codex to learn something about this odd guest of mine.

Her name was Sandy, and she was a sandwich maker at a little diner in town. She recently turned twenty six, and died in her sleep due to some sort of freak accident that caused her building to collapse. The Codex didn't provide any further information. Well, I supposed that this could explain her behavior. She didn't know she'd died, and as far as she was concerned, this was just a dream. I sighed in frustration. As much as I was glad that Sage had moved on to be reunited with his daughter, I still sort of wished that he was here to help me with this one. Putting the Codex down on the desk, I started walking towards her. Hearing my approach, she turned and favored me with a bemused grin.

"Hey there! Swanky place, huh?"

I blinked a bit in surprise, caught off guard by her chipper demeanor. There was a sickening feeling growing in my stomach as I prepared to change that.

"Er... yes, I suppose it is. Do you know where you are?"

"Well, I'm obviously in Canterlot, probably as a guest of honor at the Gala. I don't know where my dress is, but it will show up sooner or later, I figure. Who are you? Are you here to welcome me to the ball?"

Okay, she definitely still thinks this is a dream.

"I... my name is Jade. And I'm afraid that I have some bad news. This... this isn't the Gala, and I'm not your welcoming committee. I mean, I am, but not the one you think. Sandy... this is the afterlife."

"Uh-huh. Sure it is. And I am the crowned Princess of sandwiches, who raises the Rye in the morning and the Swiss at night."

This was going to be a hassle, I could already tell. Despite myself, I could feel her raising my ire as she argued with me. I tried to take a breath and calm myself.

"Sandy, I'm not making this up. I wish that this was just a dream, but it isn't. You died in your sleep last night; this really is the afterlife."

"Jade, was it? Well Jade, I'm not sure I like this dream anymore, and I am quite sure I don't like your tone. I'm going to wake up now, and in a few moments, you will be nothing more than a forgotten ending to a strange dream. Ta-ta."

I stared on, incredulous, as she proceeded to squeeze her eyes shut and hum to herself. As she hummed, she began to smile slightly as the melody rose and fell. With a dreamy look, she opened her eyes, blinking a few times in the light. As everything came into focus, her smile faltered and wilted to a frown as she furrowed her brow. Again she squeezed her eyes shut, humming a little louder and a little faster. She cracked an eye slightly, then immediately squeezed it shut again. Her frown had distorted to a grimace as she clenched her jaw, and the merry tune she'd been humming had been corrupted by fear. She was no longer humming so much as growling, her eyes closed tightly as the tears began to leak from them. Her maniacal tune reached its crescendo as her eyes snapped open. Her voice died in her throat, a strangled squeak, just before she crashed to her knees in shock.

"Why? Why can't I wake up? Why won't you let me?"

All traces of the anger that I'd felt before were gone now, a deep pity and sadness taking its place. I sank to my knees in front of her, allowing me to look her in the eyes.

"Sandy... you aren't asleep. I'm not what's keeping you here. You know why you can't wake up."

"No, it's not true. It can't be true. This is just a terrible nightmare that I'll wake up from soon. Then I'll roll over and tell Brad all about this crazy dream I had, he'll kiss my forehead and tell me that everything is going to be alright, and then we'll go for breakfast on our way to meet with the wedding planner. Everything will be okay once I wake up. All I need to do is wake up..."

"Sandy, please listen to me. You're--"

"No! Not another word from you! I'm not, I'm just sleeping! Oh, I know! I'll pinch myself, then I'll wake up for sure!"

If not for the fact that I'd routinely faced dangerous animals in the course of my treasure seeking, I'd probably have taken a step back from this mare as she proceeded to wig out. Instead, I sat right in front of her and watched helplessly as she tried desperately to wake herself. When a simple pinch failed to wake her, she resorted to biting her left foreleg, just above the hoof. Again and again she bit, harder each time, not stopping even after she'd drawn blood. I could not look away, for this was my burden to bear; nor could I interfere, as this was something that she needed to do. She had to know that this was not a dream.

Wailing in pain and frustration, she collapsed on the floor as tears flowed from her eyes and her blood pooled on the floor. Sandy, this poor and defeated creature, began to weep on the cold tile. Raising her head towards the sky, she cried out for salvation from this nightmare.

"Princess Luna, I beg you! Please, please wake me from this nightmare! Please..."

Even after all that she had just gone through, her prayer showed that she still clung desperately to the belief that this was a dream. In response, I said the first thing that came to my mind, a habit that had often brought me trouble in the past.

"Luna holds no dominion here."

She looked away from the ceiling to stare me in the eyes. She held my gaze for a second, a fierce look in her glare, before she seemingly deflated and buried her head in her hooves. She did not wail or sob, nor did she flail about as I'd feared she might. No, she did something far worse. She mewled pitifully, a heartwrenching sound that was almost physically painful to hear as it tore at my heart.

What was I supposed to do? How was I going deal with this, how was I supposed to help her? I almost wished Sage was here to help me, but I knew he'd finally found the peace he deserved, and I wasn't about to wish him back here. With a sigh, I did the only thing I could think of: I sat down beside her and pulled her into a hug. She tried to pull away, but I held on. After her token resistance, she slumped into my side and silently wept as her body wracked with mute sobs. I stayed by her side in the stillness as she came to grips with her death, with being separated from everything she'd loved. I knew exactly what she was going through at that moment. Several seconds ticked by with only the tinkling of the fountians to break the silence. Suddenly Sandy gasped, her head shooting up. It startled me so badly that I squeaked; an annoying habit that, once discovered, invariably motivated ponies to try and make me do it agian. Sandy, however, seemed to take no notice of this; her gaze was locked on the elevator doors with an intensity that seemed like it could melt glass. As soon as it clicked in my head what it was that she was planning, the elevator doors dinged as they began to slide closed.

Sandy was on the move in an instant, hooves clacking on the marble tiles as she dashed madly towards the doors. Seeing that she was not going to make it in time, she leaped towards them, trying to catch them before they closed. With a mockingly soft clank, they closed an instant before she arrived. She collided with a thump, roaring in pain and frustration. She jumped up on unsteady hooves, pounding her front hooves against the door. Each crash of a hoof against brass seemed to echo dully within the lobby. Sandy was sobbing now, begging and pleading for the door to open, to take her back to her fiance and her life. It was too much to watch, and I couldn't bear it anymore. Walking over to the desk and retrieving the Codex, I quickly flipped through it in hopes of finding something to help her. The book was completely blank, save for the very last page. There were only six words on the page, but that was all I needed to find the solution to this dilemma. The only thing missing from my plan now was finding the right moment to implement it. Replacing the book atop the desk, I waked over to Sandy. She'd thoroughly exhausted herself while I'd searched, though she still beat feebly against the door, whimpering and begging for it to open. I sat down next to her, speaking softly to her as I did so.

"Sandy, please stop this. This won't change anything, it can't. All that's left for you is to move on, to find your peace."

"I... I don't want to. I want to go back."

"You can't, Sandy. You know, deep down, that this is true. Behind me is a golden door; once you go through that door, all of your pain is gone, all of your worries and cares fade away. This is not the end, just another beginning. All you have to do is move on."

"Move on? Move on?! I don't want eternal happiness, I don't want my pain and cares and worries to go away! I want to go home and get married, I want to live with my husband through the good and the bad, and I want to be by his side through whatever pain life can throw at us! I don't want... this. I don't want to be dead. I want Brad..."

In the back of my mind I heard a welcomed voice, advising me that this was the time to use what I'd read in the Codex. I smiled, grateful for a bit of Sage Advice.

"It's what he would have wanted. What do you think he would say if he saw you like this? Beating your hooves against a door, suffering like this because you wanted him back? I know he loved you, but I also know that he would want you to be happy, not grieving like this. You know you need to move on. He would want you to find peace."

"I... I know he would. It's just that I feel like I'm giving up on him, like I'm abandoning him."

"You're not abandoning him, Sandy. This is just the way it's meant to be. I can't pretend to know why things happen the way that they do, but I have to believe that it is for a reason. It must be."

Belle's face burned brightly in the forefront of my mind. There was a reason. There had to be.

"I... I guess so. It's just that... Jade, I'm scared."

"We all are."

Sandy's eyes, still moist with tears, finally met mine. There was much fear and pain in them, but there was something else; there was a flicker of hope. With a slight smile, I stood, offering a helping hoof to Sandy. As she took my hoof, I noticed that her wounds had somehow healed, leaving not so much as a speck of blood on her coat. I attributed this to some strange afterlife magic, and tried not to think about it. In silence, we crossed the lobby, stopping just short of the golden door as she wiped a lingering tear from her eye. With equal parts trepidation and hope, she faced me and spoke up. Her voice was cracked and raw from her screaming and crying, but it still sounded beautiful to me.

"Jade, I'm sorry for the way that I acted. This is just so much to take in at one time, and I'm still not sure about... well, about anything, really. But that's okay, I guess, because for some reason I trust you. I want to believe that there is something wonderful behind this door, even though it scares me. I... I just wanted to thank you for what you've done."

"You're welcome, Sandy. I wish I could tell you more about what lay on the other side of the door, but I can't. You'll have to find out for yourself."

Sandy just nodded, a small smile on her face as she stepped forward, grasping the handle. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to gather herself before she crossed over.

As the door swung open, she began to hum the same tune from earlier. There was a flash of light, and Sandy was gone.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, feeling relief wash over me. Turning to head back to my desk, I found myself humming a familiar tune.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Perhaps a half hour later I wound up sitting at the desk, feeling conflicting feelings and just generally being bored. Having learned long ago that boredom always leads me into trouble, I searched for ways to occupy myself, preferably without breaking anything. Once more, my eyes found the Codex sitting on the desk. I picked it up, turning it over and over in my hooves as I carefully inspected it. The covers were slabs of jade, finely polished and boasting a simple scroll motif. The bindings were made of gold intertwined with a fine silken thread, and were intricately engraved with a solar motif in the style of the ancient Mareans. There were no distinctive markings by which to assign either period or culture of its origin. I flipped it open to check the inside of the cover for some sort of marking, but the first page was stuck to it. I did a double take as I caught sight of a tattered corner of paper sticking out from between the pages of the Codex. Carefully, I pulled the slip from the pages, a slip that turned out to be a newspaper clipping. The date on the page was from eleven years ago.

I felt a shiver run up and down my spine as I read the article. The article was an obituary of sorts, marking the end of a saga like a bookend to a life. I read and re-read the article, wanting to make sure that I'd gotten it right, that I wasn't jumping to conclusions or grasping at straws. After the third time I read it, there was no doubt left in my mind; this article was about Sage. The details were scarce, but they were enough to put the picture together. Sage had watched as his daughter was killed by another pony. Though the article never said by what mechanism she'd died, it was never once called murder. It seemed to be some sort of preventable accident, the result of sheer negligence. What was called murder, however, was what Sage did next. In the immediate aftermath of the incident that claimed his daughter, he struck down the one responsible for her death. In the wake of his actions, he was charged with murder and sentenced to death; this article was the footnote on his life, summing it up curtly.

So that was it. That was Sage's crime. I felt my impression of him warping to fit this new mental image of him, his politeness and soft spoken demeanor suddenly taking on a more ominous purpose. I immediately and violently shook these thoughts from my head. Sage had acted irrationally, but under the circumstances, it was understandable. Even setting aside the circumstances, the buck had paid his penance. He'd been absolved by whatever greater power there was, and if it was good enough for them, then who was I to say any differently?

I nodded to nopony, affirming my decision. Just as I was turning the page, the elevator dinged. I immediately began to panic for a second or two before I managed to get a hold of myself. An older buck, perhaps in his mid thirties stepped out, staring blankly around the lobby. His eyes locked on me as I sat behind the desk, and he slowly trotted towards me. Unsure of what else to do, I just sat there and smiled. As he moseyed across the lobby, taking his sweet time, I just happened to recall that I had the Codex open. Glancing down, I flipped a page, and quickly gathered everything I thought I would need to help him to the next life. As he finally got to within five meters of the desk, I greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, and welcome to the afterlife. My name is Jade, how can I help you?"

He just sort of stared at me, as if I'd been speaking another language. I was on the verge of repeating myself when he spoke up.

"Am I dead?"

No, this is the afterlife for breakfast. I'm here to help you accept this and move on to the Ever-After luncheon.

I'd never been a patient one, and being dead wasn't exactly inspiring me to change that. Even so, I didn't think it'd be a good idea to yell at a guest on the first day. As nicely as I could, I stifled my sarcasm and replied to him.

"As a door knob, sir."

"Where are the Princesses?"

The what now? I raised an eyebrow at this, though I tried to maintain a warm expression. My initial instinct was to tell him that the Princesses were not here and never would be, but I reconsidered for a moment. I wasn't actually sure, but I knew where to look. Perhaps the Codex could tell me if the Princesses ever came here, a question that hadn't occurred to me before now. However, now that it had, it was eating me alive in anticipation of the answer. Opening the Codex to another page, I couldn't help but facehoof, though I quickly played it off as a cough. There was only one word written on the page, penned in fancy calligraphy. Canterlot. Honestly, I'm not sure what I expected.

"They appear to be in Canterlot."

The buck just nodded, as if I'd just told him the soup of the day. Instead of asking another question, acknowledging my answer in a verbal manner, or doing... well, anything, really, he just stood there. Just. Stood there. Dead or not, I was beginning to run low on patience. I cleared my throat rather loudly, which had almost no effect. He just turned his vacant gaze towards me once more. While I was still able to pretend I had any professionalism left, I spoke up and broke the silence.

"Sir, if you are ready to move on into the ever after, the door is just over there."

Again, no verbal response. He just turned and walked away, disappearing through the door, leaving a flash of light and a confused mare in his wake. I couldn't really understand what had just happened here, and I was internally debating as to whether or not I preferred it when the guests flipped out.

As I was doing this, the elevator dinged again and disgorged yet another guest. This one was an elderly buck, one who wobbled forward on shaky knees. I took a moment to contemplate what sadistic sort of pony would create a lobby so vast for the old buck to cross. I never bothered to check the Codex; I merely stood and went to his side to offer a helping hoof. There was no plan at this time, I was merely acting on instinct and compassion as I moved to assist. It wasn't until I'd drawn within a few meters of him that it dawned on me. I'd known this pony before, back when he was alive. His age spots and tufty mane were at once familiar to me.

I'd never learned his name, but once more I was awed by the duality of life and death. When I'd met him the first time, he had fallen while crossing a street, impeding several carts and carriages and drawing the ire of their drivers. I'd seen him stumble and fall, and I was immediately struck by the way nopony moved to help him. As furious as I was at the drivers for yelling; I was equally, if not more, infuriated at the ponies who stepped around him. So I'd done then what I was doing now. I helped him to his hooves and taken him by the shoulder as I helped him walk. The entire scene played back in my mind the instant before I reached him, and the glimmer of recognition in his eyes told me that he remembered. Pushing his thick glasses farther up on his nose, he smile and spoke.

"I remember you, young mare. You were very nice to me in the market yesterday, and then you were gone before I could thank you. Such manners, your mother would be proud of you."

"You're welcome, sir. Are you feeling better today?"

And so we made small talk as I helped him to the door. He'd known that he was dead and was looking forward to the Ever-After. I was grateful for the small talk, as it allowed my mind to wander over his first sentence and all it implied. That day in the market had come months before my ill-fated expedition, and yet he spoke as if it was yesterday. Which, as I recalled Sage's explanation of the way that time looped and curled around on itself, was entirely plausible. The job of receptionist brings to you the ponies that you needed to see, indeed. As this elderly buck stepped forward into the light and passed on, he'd left a change in me. He was a reminder that small acts of kindness can mean far more to those who received them than those who bestowed them. Retiring to the desk once more, I was struck by an unusually philosophical thought.

What sort of world did we live in that an act of kindness was the oddity? Should not the callous disregard exhibited by those who walked around been much more poignant than the action of the one who did not?

For what must have been a half an hour, I contemplated the aspects of a society that would foster these sort of aspects. Soon after, I found myself being bored as I resigned and flipped open the Codex. On its naked pages, there was a neatly penned "to-do" list. Mop the floor, clean the fountains, and... brew coffee? Really? Was the Codex expecting company or something? Was I going to be the unwitting host to a book club?

Heh. Book club... with the Codex. Oh, sweet Celestia, I'm going insane.

I quickly looked for cleaning supplies under the desk, intent on beginning these tasks as soon as possible to preserve what was left of my sanity. I found a fire evacuation plan taped to the inside of the cabinet under the desk, something that at first struck me as incredibly amusing and then as a terrifying possibility. Could this place catch on fire?

Studying the map on the evacuation plan did nothing to calm my fears, for there were no listed escape routes. What did prove useful, however, was the fact that the diagram of the lobby indicated the presence of a janitorial closet recessed behind the desk. My initial impulse was to groan in frustration, for there was clearly no closet behind me. Instead, I turned, searching the wall for a button or lever of some sort. Being a paleo-cryptologist had its perks, and in short order I was able to locate the hidden lever. The fact that it was labeled "closet" didn't hurt, though it did take most of the fun out of it.

The wall slid back about ten centimeters before sliding to the right, revealing a space about three meters deep and five meters wide. The door was positioned on the left side of the room, and racks of neatly organized tools stretched out to my right across the back wall. Nestled against the back wall was a sink and a work table, the latter of which was sporting a fancy coffee maker. Walking into the depths of the room, I retrieved the mop from where it hung over the floor drain and got to work.

In the span of an hour, I had mopped the floor and erased any traces of blood, cleansed the fountains of every speck of green algae, and made two pots of coffee. I made two because I drank the first out of boredom and nervous habit. No sooner had I begun to settle in and enjoy my caffeine fueled bliss than my reverie was shattered. In perfect unison, the coffee pot and the elevator dinged.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Author's Note

So, here it is, the much awaited second chapter. Again, it has been written on a tablet (and even partially on my phone, a particularly dreadful experience). In this chapter I've tried to incorporate Jade's personality a bit more, allowing her sense of humor to shine a bit. Also incorporated are her day to day struggles and annoyances as receptionist.

The chapter is named for the main character conflict within it, named for the dreamer. The next two chapters will be The Flame and The Grateful, in that order.

Enjoy, and remember that feedback is always welcome.

The Flame

The Flame

Echoing my somewhat paranoid fear from earlier, the door opened and wisps of smoke coiled out of the elevator. The stallion within stumbled forth into the light, coughing heavily as tendrils of smoke curled out of his muzzle with each spasm. Had I not seen him emerge, I might have been convinced that the entire place was about to go up in flames. Except for the fountains, of course. Those would probably be fine. But everything else!

I shook my head to clear out my thoughts. This coffee was not doing me any favors, though it had seemed like a good idea at the time. I was still sitting behind the desk amidst a slew of crumpled paper cups containing the dregs of my coffee binge, contemplating walking over to welcome this new guest. As his coughing slowed and then ceased, he took a few deep breaths to gather himself as he began frantically looking around, searching for something. His eyes locked on mine as he began to pull himself to his hooves and stumble in my direction.

"Miss! Miss, have you seen any foals come through here?"

I felt a stab of pain at his question, and I couldn't help but wince. Though he was still quite far away, he caught sight of my grimace and collapsed to his knees, his head drooping in defeat as he stared at the ground. In the preternatural silence, I was barely able to catch what he said next.

"I failed. I didn't get to him in time."

There was a ray of hope in my heart as I heard this, one that lifted my spirits as I found that I finally had good news for the dead.

"The foal that came through here was a filly, not a colt."

The stallion's head snapped up to look at me, his expression torn between hope and grief.

"There was a filly? There wasn't a colt, are you sure of it?"

"Mister, I'm perfectly capable of telling the difference between a colt and a filly. She was a filly, no two ways about it."

His shoulders slumped once more in relief, instead of grief.

"Oh, thank Luna."

At this, I cocked an eyebrow, shooting him a dangerous glare. Catching sight of my expression and realizing what he'd said, the stallion quickly began to verbally backpedal.

"I- no, not like that. I wasn't thanking Luna that it was a filly, just that it wasn't a colt. I mean, it's terrible that she died, but at least it wasn't him..."

My glare could have curdled milk at this point, and he gulped heavily as he tried to dig himself out of a hole. I knew what he probably meant but this, but what he meant and what he was saying were two different things.

"What I meant to say is, that it's terrible for any foal to die. It's just that I was more concerned with him, because he's the one I'd been trying to save."

My glare melted into a dumbfounded stare as the implications of his words had registered in my head. First, he knew he was dead, and had accepted that. Secondly, even though he had only just died, his first concern was to see if the colt had lived or not, instead of groveling or lamenting his own death. I had no words to describe his selflessness. As my glare died, I could hear him sigh in relief and begin to climb back to his hooves. My own hooves were shaking as I flipped open the Codex. I had to know, for his benefit as well as mine, whether the colt survived. Just because he wasn't here didn't mean he lived; he could simply be the pony another receptionist needed to meet. Flipping open the Codex revealed not the biography page that it usually did, but a newspaper clipping instead. Where Sage's had been the tragic tale of a father who'd seen his only child stolen from this life, the article for this stallion was a farewell to a veritable hero.

In what is perhaps one of the most tragic acts of heroism and selflessness ever witnessed, a local stallion has died a hero's death. Any problem, big or small, Sam Cross will help with them all. His dependability was so well known to the community that it was made into a foal's rhyme. In the twenty six years that he has lived in this town, his name has become synonymous with lending a helping hoof, with truly being the embodiment of the Equestrian Creed. To many, being called a "good Sam" is a badge of honor, the mark of one who has become a pillar of the community. And it was by doing precisely what he had always done that Sam Cross has become more than a local folk-hero. With his last deed in this life, he has become a legend among ponies. He stands alone as an ambassador of our Beloved Princesses by his deed and virtue.

Sam Cross did not intend to become a hero that day, but he rose to the challenge set before him instead of shying away from it. When the Daffodil home caught fire three days ago, he was one of the first to smell the smoke and rush to help. When he arrived there were already two ponies on the scene, but they had fled the flames and were not in any shape to provide assistance. Hearing cries from within, Sam did the only thing he knew; he helped. He ventured into the burning home not once, not three times, but four. As a direct result of his courage, three ponies are alive today who would not have been otherwise. As he carried the last mare from the house, she began to cry out for her son, begging for him to be brought to her. Without a moment's hesitation, Sam rushed back into the flames in search of the colt. By a wicked twist of fate, the smoke inhalation caused a tragic misunderstanding and sent Sam in search of a colt who was in school at the time of the fire. The building collapsed shortly after he reentered it. The only victim was the rescuer.

Sam leaves behind a loving wife and beautiful daughter, both of whom feel his loss most acutely of all. For the majority of the town, this final sacrifice was the true mark of a hero, and it solidified his status in their minds as such. To his family, he was already a hero. His death will be felt by all parts of the community, for his charity was far reaching. In this time of pain and loss, please do not overlook those who are hurting the most, who have suffered the greatest loss.

As I'd read the article, Sam had approached the desk and stood silently on the other side. I wiped the dampness from my eyes, passing the article to him. As he read, I could see the tears fighting to be free, and I could hear the catch in his throat as emotions threatened to overtake him. Once he'd read the article, he slid it back to me across the counter. Silence once more hung heavily in the air as he came to grips with the fact that his wife and daughter had been left behind by his ascension to legend. The solitude stretched on and on, only to be suddenly shattered by a grim chuckle from across the desk.

"Heh... my wife is going to kill me for this."

The absurdity of this was enough to draw a chuckle from me, despite myself. I didn't have time to feel foolish or ashamed of this, for Sam joined in almost immediately. There was a deep and terrible pain present in his laughter, but he laughed in spite of it. Sometimes, when everything was going wrong and it all seemed like too much to take, you needed to either laugh or cry. Sam had chosen the former, had chosen to giggle at the ghosties. I couldn't thank him enough for that, for reminding me that sometimes, you just have to smile.

Our mirth wound down as the harsh reality settled back in, driving away the laughter. It was again Sam who spoke first, preempting the awkward silence.

"So what now?"

Perhaps it was the way his ability to laugh in spite of the pain he was feeling, or maybe it was the caffeine. Either way, I smiled at him and offered him the improbable.

"Coffee?"

In a beautiful role reversal, this time it was he that laughed first, and I joined him again. Cutting off quite abruptly mid-giggle, I shocked him into silence for a second by my coffee fueled subject changing.

"Hehehe-- no, but seriously. I have coffee."

He just nodded his head blankly for a second as the words registered, and when they did, he broke out in a wide smile. As I emerged from the closet with a pair of cups balanced on my back, I was met by a warm smile and a simple declaration.

"I do love me some coffee."

"As do I," I replied with a smile. My smile was matched by his as we sat down together on the nearby bench.

The first few moments passed in silence as we each enjoyed the coffee. Hesitantly, I ventured to break the stillness around us.

"So, it seems that you've done a great many good things in your life. You've helped a lot of ponies and set an example for generations to come."

Sam deflected the compliment with a wave of his hoof. "I've only ever done what needed to be done. There's nothing special about it."

I stopped mid-sip and lowered my cup. "You see? That's where you're wrong, and also why you're so special. You're right in that there shouldn't be anything special about it, because everypony should always do just that. And yet, they don't. I wish I could say that we always do the right thing, always try to help others in need, but I can't. But you did, Sam. You did."

Sam sat silently through my praises, neither accepting not rebuking them. His gaze fell upon me, unwavering; it was as if he was searching for something. And as I spoke, he seemed to find it. He let the quiet sit between us, neither awkward nor comfortable, just quiet. When he spoke, I was not prepared for what he said, the questions he raised.

"Miss, you seem very passionate about this subject. Why is that?"

I'd been holding his gaze until then, but with his last three words, I couldn't bear it any longer. The demons of my past played in my head, beckoning the memories I'd tried for so long to forget, the selfish act that I'd spent the rest of my life trying to make up for. I had never told a soul about this most shameful part of my life, and I'd spent years covering up the truth to bury the past. And even now, I knew I was about to tell Sam. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to gather my thoughts before speaking.

"The reason it means so much to me now is that I made a terrible choice when I was younger, one that carried an unfathomable consequence. I'm no master of my craft, I've only been at it for five years or so. When I went on my very first expedition, I was only seventeen, full of confidence and ignorance. I'd come across some information about a small temple to the south of town, one that had escaped notice for so long because of its location; inside the mouth of an Ursa's cave. There was a small village near the cave, and when they learned of my goal, they were very excited. There was a tablet fabled to be lost in the temple, one which held the work of their greatest shaman and the cure to the terrible affliction that plagued their people, and they would give anything to have it. I promised them that I'd bring it back if I found it, and they sang my praises as I hiked towards the cave. I never intended to live up to my promise. After all, it was just a bunch of superstitious nonsense, what did I care? I investigated the cave and came away with a treasure trove of information about other structures in the area. I left the cave with a smile on my face and told the villagers that I hadn't found their tablets, when I in fact hadn't even looked.

"Three months later, I returned seeking information that I'd mis-copied or lost in my travels. When I got there, the entire village was deserted. I didn't have to look very hard to find the ponies that had lived there. Around their altar there was a ring of bones, the remnants of desperate ponies who had clung to their beliefs in the twilight of their lives. At first, I was repulsed and horrified by the deaths of so many ponies, young and old alike. Upon venturing back into the cave and the temple therein, I found something that hammered home just what I'd done in my blind self interest. Atop the stone altar at the center of the room was a single tablet. Reading the tablet, I found it to be exactly the thing I'd claimed not to find, and it was just what they'd said it was. It was a remedy for what had plagued their village. I'd used it to copy my notes on three months before. My inaction had killed them."

Sam was unusually still for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. After a spell, he focused his eyes on me once more, looking as if he was on the cusp of understanding.

"So you care so much about helping others and doing the right thing because you remember what happened when you failed to do just that?"

I nodded. "All I had to do was look for and retrieve the tablet. But I didn't, because it served me no purpose. I'm sure that there were several attempts made to recover the tablet, for many of the pitfalls had fresh victims. In my efforts to hide the terrible thing I did there, I ended up learning just how this had all come to pass. The first to die from the illness was the shaman, the only pony in the village who knew how to safely navigate the traps."

Sam just stared at me with mournful eyes. "So, is that why you are here? As punishment for that deed?"

"Not punishment. Penance. This is the way that I can earn eternal peace. Speaking of which, yours awaits you on the other side of that door there."

Sam didn't even glance at it. Instead, he took my forehooves in his, squeezing them until I met his gaze with mine.

"The story you told me, and the way you told it to me... I have no doubt that you have done a terrible thing. What I also have no doubt of is that you have suffered greatly for it, made great strides to make it right. If you had not, then you wouldn't be here. But you are not alone in this. We all have regrets, no matter how much we claim not to."

I wiped a tear from my eye as I held his gaze. I think that we both knew what I was about to ask.

"Even you, Sam?"

He sighed, his gaze faltering for a moment before returning, every bit as firm as before.

"How could I not? My biggest regret is that I left my wife as a widow, my daughter without a father. I saved lives, this is true... but I couldn't save the one that mattered most."

Once more, the stillness set in. There was nothing more to say. Ask any laypony if it was better to lose one and save three than to lose three and save one, and their answer would often match. Three lives outweigh the one. How do I console the one?

"Sam, I don't know what say. You died a hero, earning the respect of hundreds by your actions. But you still died, and you left behind a family. There is no way back, no way to undo death. The only thing left to do is move on. There is nothing for you here except regret and longing. Regret, longing, and coffee."

Sam smiled in spite of it all, and I couldn't hold back a grin of my own. I knew from the moment that he'd made me laugh at the counter why he was a pony that I needed to meet. He was more than the embodiment of what I strove to achieve, more than a role model. He was the one who reminded me to giggle at the ghosties. I walked to the door with him by my side, a quiet resignation plain on his features. Without warning, he turned and embraced me. Though I was shocked, it didn't last long and I soon returned his embrace. There was no romance in this embrace; if I had to ascribe it a quality it would be fatherly.

Breaking the hug, Sam favored me with a genuinely warm smile. "Here I am, having spent the last who-knows-how-long conversing with you, and it only just occurred to me that I don't know your name."

I smiled back, feeling a spark of happiness for the first time since I'd died.

"Jade," I said. "My name is Jade."

"Well Jade, it's been a pleasure meeting you, and I thank you for the conversation."

"And you as well."

Sam's face grew serious for a moment, as if he was about to pass on information of great importance.

"Jade, no matter what you feel or think about yourself, remember this: whatever your faults, your shortcomings, your failures... you wouldn't be here if you weren't redeemable. Whatever is out there, whatever powers that be, they have decided you are worthy. Just remember that, and you'll be fine."

I felt a tear welling up and blinked it away, replacing it with a smile.

"You forgot the most important part, Sam."

His serious demeanor faded, a quizzical one taking its place. "Really? What's that then?"

I smiled all the wider. "You have to remember to giggle at the ghosties."

Sam chuckled a bit, nodding as he did. "Well, you seem to be in better spirits now. It would seem that, even in death, I'm still helping ponies." Turning away from me, he propped the door open a bit, shooting me one last smile before he disappeared.

Humming once more, I set about cleaning up the cups and the spilled drops of coffee across the desk. This job was nothing if not surprising, constantly throwing twists and turns at me, but that was okay with me. At least now, I remembered to whoop it up with the weepy. I was interested to see how a bit of laughter would lighten the mood around these parts.

For the first time, I found myself looking forward to the ding of the elevator.

The Grateful

The next half dozen ponies to come through the elevator were met with mirth and humor, which they returned in kind. Every one of them passed into the light with a smile on their face and peace in their hearts, and I even had one laughing so hard he was in tears. A good natured buck, a little younger than me, who had died while cliff diving into one of the rivers near town. His last words, and I checked the Codex to verify this, were "watch this." The sheer irony of this was not lost on either of us, and we had a good chuckle at it in spite of everything. I'd begun to find what worked for me as a receptionist, and it was paying off in spades.

When I'd first begun my position, I was trying to emulate Sage's serious demeanor and his wisdom. Lacking said wisdom, this was far more difficult for me. In search of the deeper meanings and philosophical truths that Sage mustered so easily, I'd allowed myself to dwell on the darker things and forge an emotional attachment with the departed. When Sam came through, he'd inadvertently shown me what was right for me with his easygoing manner. Forming the emotional attachment was key, but the bond I'd been making was on the wrong end of the emotional spectrum, as it were. Instead of focusing on the loss, the pain, and the death, I needed to focus on the memories of better times, the laughter they'd shared, and the lives they'd touched as they had filled in the "dash" on their headstone. My only regret was that it had taken me so long to see it like that. Flipping open the Codex out of habit, it took me fully ten seconds to recognize the mare in the newspaper cutout that was stuck to the page. I was ashamed at not immediately recognizing my own mother's face.

When I was very young, a filly of only four years old, I'd lost my mother to a terrible illness. It had been a harsh winter and many ponies had fallen ill, but none so badly as my mom. My mother, Stormy Skies, had been struck down by a rare genetic malformation. This mutation was almost never noticed in those who had it, due to the way that it lay dormant and inert. Very rarely, by way of some severe shock to the immune system of the carrier, the mutation would awaken and begin its spread. Even now, I can't remember the name of the disease or specifically what it was doing to her. All I can remember was how my mom got sicker and sicker, growing thinner and weaker as she did so. The disease was not swift, and her last tree months of life were spent in a hospice. I couldn't understand why mommy wasn't at home anymore, why she wasn't fixing my lunch and giving me a kiss before I set off to school. My dad tried to explain it away, saying she was at a sleepover, and might be there for a long time.

Not knowing any better, I'd asked question after question until he finally snapped and yelled at me to be quiet; it was the only time he'd ever raised his voice at me like that, and I ran to my room and cried. He came in a bit later and hugged me as he apologized. He told me that mommy was very sick, and that she might not be coming home. Even as young as I was, I could see the pain in his words.

When she'd first gone to the hospice, we would visit her every day and tell her about our day, and she would tell us about hers. Her eyes would light up as I showed her a picture I drew her or told her about a story I'd read. Whenever we were bout to leave, she would hug us close and kiss me on my forehead. "I love you, Jade," she would say. I would always say to her, "I love you too mommy, I hope you get better soon!" Dad would just stand in the corner, being all quiet for the most part. He'd send me out to wait in the lobby for a moment as he said goodbye, always wiping away a tear as he rejoined me.

As the weeks went on, the visits became less and less common. From every day to every other day, and then to once a week, the frequency dropped. As the intervals increased, my mom's decline became more noticeable. I could tell that she was in pain, and that seeing her like that hurt my dad deeply. The last time we visited her was the day she died. All of the tubes and wires coming out of her made her look like a machine, and she was barely able to speak. She listened intently as I told her all that had happened in the last week, and she even quizzed me on the alphabet that I'd learned that week. She congratulated me, telling me how proud she was of her beautiful daughter. Weak as she was, she could still smile; a fragile thing, fleeting as a small bird upon the windowsill. As the visiting hours wound down, we went to say goodbye. She was too weak to lift her head to kiss my forehead, so I did the only thing I could think of, kissing her on her forehead. She smiled with a tear in her eye as she croaked out that she loved me. I told her that I loved her too, and then went into the lobby to wait for my dad. He took much longer than usual to emerge, and when he did, he wasn't crying. He just looked... empty. I didn't learn why until a few years later, when he thought I was old enough; he repeated to me the last words she'd said in this life.

"I love you, but please don't miss me. You are what made my life worth living, you and Jade both. Just remember the happy times we shared, the love we feel. I don't want you to be sad when you think of me. Just smile, and know that I'll be waiting for you on the other side, and that I'll be free of pain. Just... smile. I love you both."

The rattle in other chest grew with each word, her last declaration nearly unintelligible. Then, she closed her eyes then and went to sleep, never to wake. True to her wishes, her funeral was not a mourning of her death, but a celebration of her life. There were many tears shed, not the least of which came from me, but there were also tears of happiness and laughter as friends commiserated and shared memories. Even now when I look back on that day, I like to think she would have been pleased to see the laughter she left behind. And on that day, I learned to laugh and celebrate life. Laugh, even when it hurts; laugh, even when all you want to do is cry.

Somewhere along the years I'd forgotten how to laugh and how to smile, and it took my own death for me to remember. Even as I was wondering what lesson the Codex was trying to impart by dredging up this memory, an elevator dinged.

Shaking off the cobwebs I'd gathered on my unexpected trip down memory lane, I looked up with a smile as the doors slid open. I half expected my mother to walk out, but it wasn't so. From the lift there emerged a young mare, no older than twelve. Her smile illuminated the room, and I could hear her giggling from across the lobby. I swallowed a lump that was forming in my throat as I pondered how to break it to her that she was dead. What happened next caught me entirely of guard. The filly sat on her haunches and threw her arms around herself, hugging herself tightly as she wept tears of joy. How did I know they were tears of joy? The constant giggling and the mildly disconcerting grin were pretty good indicators. The way she was embracing herself made it appear as if the was wearing an invisible straight jacket, and her disquieting giggles made me wish she was. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I regretted it, feeling deeply ashamed for even thinking something like that about such a sweet filly. Mentally kicking myself, I stood up from behind the counter and advanced towards the strange filly sitting on the floor and hugging herself. As I approached, her giggles tapered off, an inaudible litany tracking its place.

I was nearly upon her before I was able to decipher what she was saying, and it stopped me cold.

"I'm finally dead, no more pain. I'm finally dead, no more pain. I'm finally dead..."

On and on she went, the tears slipping from her eyes and dripping from the corners of her smile. Absentmindedly, I closed the last few meters and sat down directly in front of her. It was only then that she seemed to notice that she was not alone, and she looked up at me with the two biggest puppy-dog-eyes I'd ever had pointed in my direction. I felt me heart melting even before she spoke to me.

"Miss? Am I really dead this time, or am I dreaming again? Please, please tell me this isn't a dream... I don't want to wake up, I don't want to hurt anymore."

I sat there, mouth slightly agape as I tried to process this. I could not for the life (or death) of me figure out what could possibly have caused this little filly so much pain that she would dream about being dead. At least, not at first. The photo of my mother came to the forefront of my mind, snapping me out of my daze. I met her gaze with my own, seeing very clearly the fear and hope within her.

"Yes, sweetie. You won't hurt anymore now."

Her eyes searched mine, seeking any sign of deception but finding none. With a choking sob, she lunged forward and ensnared me in a bear hug as she bean weeping anew.

"I knew she was listening! I knew it, I just knew! I'm finally free, after all these years..."

I might have asked a question along the lines of 'who was listening?', but I didn't have nearly enough oxygen for that. Instead, I found myself wondering if it was indeed possible to die in the afterlife, and if so, what would become of me. Summoning the last of my strength as the blackness began to close in, I reached up and tried to pull the suffocating embrace away from my windpipe. Though my gesture was feeble, it served to remind the filly that ponies need air from time to time. She released her death grip on me, allowing me to take the single largest breath I've ever taken in my life.

Has air always tasted this sweet? I mused to myself. My vision swam with more stars than the night sky as I hovered on the brink of consciousness. The filly had taken to holding me at arm's length and shaking me back and forth like a rag doll.

"Hey lady? Are you okay? You look a little purple."

As my body finally decided to remain conscious and my motor skills slowly came back online, I was able to stutter out a response.

"Yeah. I just... forgot how to breathe. I- I'm better now."

"You're a strange pony. I like you."

"I'm the strange one? I beg to differ."

I held the filly in a mock-angry glare for a moment, to which she simply smiled before replying.

"Ladies don't beg; it's unbuttoning. That's what my dad used to say when I asked for ice cream or a new doll."

I stared at her for a second before I puzzled out the meaning of what she'd said. "Unbecoming, not unbuttoning."

She stared at me for a moment in confusion, tilting her head like a dog might, light orange locks falling across her eyes. "That's, what I said. Unbuttoning."

Fighting the urge to facehoof so hard my eye twitched, I tried to change the subject. "So earlier, you said 'she listened' or something like that. What was that about?"

Screwing up her face in confusion as she stroked her chin, she seemed deeply lost in thought. Her features suddenly lit up with a smile as she found an answer. She seemed far prouder than I would have expected for one remembering something that they'd said less than a minte ago.

"Oh! Princess Celestia, she listened to me and she granted my wish."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what wish was that?"

"I wished I was dead, and here I am!"

Shocked. Dumbfounded. Unprepared. All of these words fall short of accurately capturing the disbelief garnered by this comment of hers.

"You... you wished for death? I-I don't think that the Princess was responsible for that one, dear."

"My name is Rose, not deer. And yes, she was. It was my Hearth-warming's eve wish."

"You wished for death on Hearth-warming's eve?"

Rose's smile died down a bit at the incredulous tone of my voice. I simply couldn't grasp it. She answered my question with one of her own.

"Do you know what its like to hurt all the time? Even when you sleep? Hurt so bad that you want to scream and never stop, no matter what the nurses do?"

I recoiled slightly at the sudden turn in the tone of the conversation, watched as the filly before me suddenly looked much older than her twelve years. I shook my head.

"I do. When I was six, I got really sick. My parents took me to a doctor who gave me some shots. A little later, we were heading to a bigger doctor's office, and my parents looked scared. When we got there, a whole bunch of nurses and doctors started asking questions, poking me with needles, and putting me inside big scary looking machines. The doctors came back and told us that I was very sick, and that there wasn't anything they could do to fix it, they could only make it not so bad for me. It was dark when we left, and my mom was crying. My dad took us for ice cream, and I knew whatever it was that the doctor had told him, it was bad. He only took us for ice cream on the weekend, and never right before bed like that. From then on, I got a big shot every week, and they hurt a lot."

Absently, Rose rubbed a spot on the side of her neck with a grimace. Somehow, I knew that she was rubbing the spot where they'd insert the needle. I sat in rapt silence as she continued.

"I remember when I turned nine, because that was when I started to hurt all over. I was just sore all the time, always tired. By the time I was ten, I was stuck in a wheelchair, and I wasn't allowed to leave the house except to get my shots. I had to take a bunch of pills everyday, but I still hurt all the time. I wet the bed for the first time since forever, and I cried. I hurt all over, and then I had to wear diapers like a foal. I spent my eleventh birthday in the hospital. Everything from then till now has just been a blur. I hurt so much, all the time. I wanted to scream sometimes, but I couldn't do it. Mostly, I just cried. Hearth-warming's eve, we had a family thing we did. We would open a present and make a wish, and if we were good that year, it might come true."

I saw this beautiful filly go from one of the happiest guests I'd met so far to one of the saddest. She stared at the floor, tears making a soft sound as they splattered against the tile. Rose sniffled, then continued.

"They opened their presents, and my mom opened mine with magic. Then they all closed their eyes and made their wishes. Mom and dad both wished that I would get better soon, just like always. My little brother Chowder started to cry when it was his turn to make his wish. He wished to the Princesses that I would die. Mom looked shocked and dad was super angry, and I thought he was going to hit Chowder for that. I think the only reason that he didn't was because I laughed. For the first time in a long time, I was happy, I was smiling."

She looked up at me, tears still dripping from her eyes, but her smile had returned.

"I looked at my little brother and smiled. I told them that I wished for that every year since I was ten, because I hurt so much. And maybe, with my little brother wishing for the same thing, we would overpower mom and dad's wishes. And it worked! It finally worked. I don't hurt anymore."

I was at a loss for how to giggle at this, unable to really register the weight of the story. Many years ago, I had been on the other side of the bed, watching as the one I loved slipped away. I never wished for her to die, even though I knew she was hurting. Was I selfish not to? Even as I cast my mind back to the dusty corridors of memory, I stumbled upon the answer.

"Rose, I think we need to throw you a death-day party, to celebrate the end of your pain. What do you think?"

The filly initially looked surprised, but she was soon sporting the biggest grin yet. She nodded so hard that I thought her head might pop off, which in turn produced the amusing mental image of it chattering around like a set of wind up teeth. In short order I'd scavenged up the makings of a party. In a mini fridge in the supply closet I'd found some sparkling grape juice and a tray of cupcakes. I tasted both by taking a little bite and a small sip, you know, to make sure they were fresh. Then, I decided that it couldn't hurt to be safe, so I finished the cupcake and had a bit more juice before concluding that they were in fact safe. These, coupled with coffee filter party hats and rubber glove balloon animals served to be serviceable party accoutrements.

As we dined upon the bounty provided for us by the refrigerator gods, we swapped stories of happier times, having a grand ole time of it. Eventually we ran short of cupkakes and juice, around the same time as the conversation hit a lull. My suggestion that she was ready to move on was met by excitement from Rose, and in short order we had cleaned up the aftermath of the party. I was about to walk her over to the door when i noticed a smear of frosting on the corner of her mouth. Asking her to sit still for a moment, I retrieved a wet paper napkin and crouched in front of her to dab the corners of her mouth. She made a big deal about complaining and fussing over the attention, but she was smiling that same infectious smile. Walking her to the door, she barely stopped to wave and thank me for the party before she was rushing through the door, trailing laughter into the light. Even after the flash, her carefree laugh yet echoed in the lobby. With a smile and a tired sigh, I wandered back towards the desk, wondering if there would always be cupcakes in the fridge. I stood in front of it, taking a deep breath and visualizing moist cupcakes. "Cupcakes, here I come!"

I yanked the door open with slightly excessive amounts of force, searching for the tiny cakes of the gods. "Drat."

I closed the door. Then, I ripped it open again, refusing to be fooled by the tricks of the cupcake gods.

"Aha! I've got you... drat."

The door closed and opened again.

"Drat."

Close. Open.

"Drat."

This went on and on until I finally decided that the cupcake gods had abandoned me in my hour of need. Walking out of the supply closet and closing it behind me, I plopped down in the chair behind the desk, reclining the chair on two legs as I relaxed.

I can't claim to have this job figured out yet, and if I'm honest with myself, I don't think such a thing is even possible. All I can really say for certain is that I have learned more than I ever thought possible, and this is only my first day. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish I could move on right this second, so that I could see my mom and spend some time with Clay in paradise. I know I'm not ready to move on, I haven't found my peace yet. I still find myself wrestling with my past, the things I didn't do but should've, and the things I did but shouldn't have. Oh the bright side, I have all of eternity to come to peace with that, and in the meantime, there are a lot of ponies who need my help, and who have something to teach me. I may be no Sage, but I do the best I can. After all, I'm only just beginning to adjust to my life as a receptionist in the afterlife.

(Ooh! Ooh! She said it! She said the title!)

--Roll credits--

First and foremost, I must pay tribute to my tireless editor, PacificPenguin, who I do not recognize or thank nearly as much as he deserves. For the last year-and-a-half, he has juggled college work and a social life, and has somehow still found time to slowly help me overcome my bad habits and terrible writing. It is without exaggeration and with complete sincerity that I tell you all this: without his advice and expertise, I would be but a shadow of the writer that I am today. A round of applause, if you will.

Secondly, I wish to thank my fans. Each and every one of you who is reading this, who have left feedback in the form of favorites, up votes, and / or comments. It is for you all that I write, and from you that I draw inspiration on what I write. I thrive on your feedback, and my ego couldn't exist without it.

Strange as it may seem, I wish to thank the intangible; I wish to thank Fate. Be it fate, destiny, providence, divine intervention, alien interference, or sheer dumb luck, I have been graced with a sharp mind, vivid imagination, and the dubious ability to take my thoughts and feelings and put them into words. I feel pretty darn lucky and grateful for this, for it permits me to make a positive change in the world.

And last but by no means least, I must pay homage to the anomalous progeny of a gifted mind which brought us all together, uniting us across all boundaries. It matters not what nation, gender, age, intelligence or orientation you claim, we are all brought together by the love of a show that defies all expectations and preconceptions. It is from these gloriously goofy pastel ponies that we can all learn valuable lessons about life and friendship. Thanks be to the staff of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic; past, present, and future for giving us something so pure and good.

Author's Note

My bad, I accidentally hit the unpublish button while trying to edit.

But since you're here, you'll be delighted to know that this is not the end of the story. There's still an epilogue and a few side stories to write.