Beyond the End

Written by Lauren Zheng from Guelph Collegiate Vocational Institute, Canada

My greasy hands were rejecting Adele’s tissue box when the ground shifted.

Chairs shook, chalk broke, and pencils clattered to the floor, as if we were in a bus that had jolted into movement. Through the grimy window, we watched our tier - our world - utterly change.

The sky, once paper-white and creased like my teacher’s face, morphed into an ovular sea of light with distant shores of brown. An endless white wall reared up, thrusting into the long luminescent slit that was the brightest part of the new sky. We were silent, trying to hold ourselves motionless, as our teacher hadn’t yet allowed us to move.

Then came a sob, and murmurs rose.

“I wonder how long do we have?” Adele’s voice held so steady that I twisted toward her. She smiled - softly, waveringly.

Scream. Cry. Beg. I wanted to shout. Why are you giving in?

Instead, I dug in my pockets. My hand brushed the grappling hook I filched from an angry gardener - a small consolation. I offered Adele a packet of salt-and-vinegar chips.

She shook her head. As always.

“Is there a problem?” The teacher’s voice was the smack of a ruler on a student’s hand as he loomed over the crying girl.

“No, sir,” she hiccuped.

“Shame!” he went on, caterpillar-like eyebrows tyrannizing his eyes as he tyrannized us. “If you are horrified to let the dark take you when our tier dies, I am horrified for the sake of your parents and our populace!”

Chips and restraint crumbled in my fist.

“When our tier goes, we too will honorably relinquish our lives,” he shouted for the class to hear.

My glare locked on his. His eyes were triangular slits beneath those eyebrows, and glistening.

I was about to die. Damn the consequences.

“You never had a life,” I announced.

The class had gone silent.

My teacher’s face was colored-crayon-crimson as he advanced on me-

I grinned at him-

The ground tilted-

-and we fell.

#

Darkness gushed over us, like an overturned honey jar where the bees were made of living night. Silhouettes fell past me, fast fading, honorably relinquishing their will to live.

“Adele!” I screamed. Hazily, I saw her face in the dark, hanging to her serenity as doggedly as I clutched my chips. Hope reared like that endless white wall. “Stay.”

“Oh, Blythe,” she breathed. “You’ve always been…”

Golden hair splaying around her porcelain visage, she smiled gently at me as she melted into nothingness.

What have I always been?

I gripped my chips and my sense of self. I would not die-

#

I landed on a pink lawn.

That’s what it felt like. Adele would say it was a luxurious rose carpet sprawling across a domed hall. I would say I could climb one of the pillars.

Adele - she would never have come. I looked down at the crumpled bag of chips, and wished she’d tried just one.

“Who are you, encroacher where I reside?” A musical, high-pitched voice jerked me to my feet.

Wiping my chip-stained hands on my bright blue shirt, I stared at the umber-haired girl gliding down the hall. “You look like a candle next to your ridiculously puffed-out gown.”

Her sharply-defined features frowned, and she offered me a box of tissues. Even the pattern on the cardboard looked elaborately overdone.

I plucked the box from her hand, and set it deliberately behind me. “I’m from the tier that’s not there anymore.” That would throw her off-balance.

“An egregious predicament.”

“What?”

“An hour lingers till you… die.”

I scowled at her. “I just chose not to die.”

“Leaving your tier for longer than an hour heralds your demise, unless you reach Beyond.”

“Beyond?”

“The realm beyond the tiers.”

Instead of dealing with that, I settled for familiar territory - insults. “Can you cut out the fancy words you vomit?”

She flushed, and I thought she was going to slap me, which would be hard in that dress. “It’s basic courtesy here. You know nothing. Well. You’ve only an hour to live.”

A retort hovered, but my limited lifespan was probably more important. “So what do I do?”

“Get Beyond.”

My purpose in life was to undermine everyone in my tier, and yet - my instincts were still theirs. I can’t leave this world- I’ll die-

The girl reached behind and yanked. The gown fell to her ankles in a rain of ultramarine frills. Beneath, she wore a sleek bodysuit. “I’m coming.”

I nearly fell back onto the pink carpet. “Are you kidding?”

“No. I’m done with… vomiting fancy words.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s classified as stalking.” If she was going to be like this, she could stay right here.

“Fifty-three minutes.”

“Fine. I’m leaving. If you follow me-” Ugh. I had no good threats. “-we’re still not a team!”

“Fifty-two minutes.”

I ran.

#

I almost slammed into an ornate mansion, my eyes blurring at the complex and nonsensical carvings on the pale stone.

It was the fourteenth ridiculous manor I’d near-collided with. These streets, with their gleaming white tiles, gave no traction. And the people, in their gowns and suits with more frills than a chip, were impossible to avoid.

The girl from the hall glided down the polished street. “Need help?”

I clenched the chip bag. “Go away.”

“Staircase’s in that house. Leads to the tier below.”

“Staircase?” I heard my dumb teacher splutter. Each tier is a world, neatly stacked. Never go near the cracks leading from one tier to another!

Shaking my head, I dashed for the arched entrance, laden with cerulean, too-large hydrangeas.

The girl beckoned me into a broad, thickly carpeted hallway similar to hers. I planted my feet. She could go first.

With a muttered “forty-eight minutes”, she brushed past me.

The stairs weren’t far; winding and glossy, spiralling out of sight. I shoved past the girl and took them three at a time.

Then there were no stairs any longer, and I fell.

#

My feet met pastel carpet in a baby-blue room sized for a child. Flower- and bird-shaped windows the size of my palm cast a mosaic of light on the carpet. I smelled newly-baked brioche.

On the wall opposite the windows was a door, its polished wood painted azure. The girl rushed to it and twisted the knob. It didn’t move.

I tried to look out the keyhole, but she was there. I shoved her, and she shoved back. After a few more attempts, I gritted my teeth and pressed my face to the crack beneath the door.

Curving paths of colored stones snaked through well-manicured lawns, ending at small cottages. All were in soft hues. The edge of the tier was only a dozen feet away - a brown wall adorned with wildflowers. That’s a start!

Two pairs of shoes - mauve heels and lavender sneakers - blocked my view. Stellamaris stood firmly at the keyhole and had the gall to mouth, “Quiet!”

“Oh, hello!” said a voice - silvery and almost childish. “I’m here to keep an eye on this holding room.”

“It’s likely empty.” The other voice was a little older, but no less pleasant. “They’re rarely occupied for more than a day. Someone always comes to rescue the detainee.”

“We ended up in a cell!” I mouthed. “What a practical joke-”

The girl crossed her arms and whispered, “So, how are we getting out?”

“Chip? Salt and vinegar can never go wrong.”

“You’re eating?”

I bit into my chip, trailing crumbs on the textured carpet. Food was the mother of all great plans. Not that she would know. “Fine. Introductions. I’m Blythe. Or Bli. And you’re…”

“Stellamaris.”

“Ste-what?” I snorted. “You’d better have a nickname.”

“Shh! My name’s fine.”

“It’s certainly not, Stel.”

The two voices had changed the subject. “Why, you’re an angel of kindness, always at the community center,” said the second voice.

I rolled my eyes, found Stel doing so, and stopped.

“I just wish the boxes of tissues didn’t always go missing on your shifts,” the voice continued breathlessly.

I grasped for a chip and found only crumbs. I scowled at the flowery windows. I’d never taste another salt-and-vinegar chip again.

“I know,” the other voice giggled. “Especially as you need them so much - a box a day!”

“Oh, no,” laughed the first. “I just take a few boxes to donate from time to time.”

Silence. One pair of shoes moved away.

The first voice chuckled. “If you’re going to steal tissues, at least prepare an excuse.”

These people were playing a tangled game, and over what? Tissue boxes? If I had time, I’d show them a few of my pranks. “We just need to get to that crack-”

“What?” Stel demanded.

“If you walk to the very edge of the tier, there’s a long thin fissure at your feet,” I explained curtly. “Popular belief has it that crack leads past all the tiers to the very bottom.”

“Perfect. I’ve a plan.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Twenty-four minutes!”

“I don’t care.”

She exhaled loudly. “People in your tier must hate you. Stubborn and senseless and-”

The truth. I considered throwing the chip packet at her. “Well, you’re like everyone else in your tier. Arrogant and self-righteous and-”

“Fine, then! Die here!”

“Fine.” I crossed my arms and sat.

#

The seconds crawled by, more slowly than my teacher figuring out I’d switched the schedules. I stood, paced the tiny room, sat again. Ate the chip crumbs. Stellamaris, stiff-backed, stood like a stone by the pinpricked windows.

After so long, I was surprised I wasn't dead. Yet, something occurred to me. “You’ve left your tier too. You’ll die a few minutes after me.”

“I don’t care!” spat Stellamaris.

I snorted. “Oh, really?”

“Really. I was leaving anyway.”

“A likely story!”

“I mean it! My tier’s a tide pool of subtleties. Sounding completely friendly while spewing insults, always trying to slyly prove your family is richer, happier, better. I’ve gotten so good at navigating it.” Stel pushed off the wall and futilely yanked at the doorknob. “And that’s exactly the problem!”

For once, a response wasn’t tap-dancing on my lips.

“I had this catsuit under my dress. I had information on the tiers, even on Beyond. Everything was ready. Except me. Then you came, perfect timing, and I left. Simple. For once. If I ended up dying, at least that’s simple too.”

I fidgeted with the tassels of the carpet. “You can’t die yet.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t tried salt and vinegar chips.” Why was I bothering? We weren’t a team. “Seriously though, eating chips and laughing and sprinting over fields - that’s why we’re alive, isn’t it?” I wasn’t fancy. I didn’t give speeches. “Or something like that.”

Stel only gripped the wooden knob tighter.

“I mean it! Why else-” I cut myself off. “No. That’s not true. I chose to live because it’s the opposite of what everyone else did.”

“Huh?”

“When I was six, I switched my teacher’s pens with empty ones.” Who was I talking to? Stel, who mirrored me too much? Adele, my polar opposite? Myself, the prankster with too-sharp edges? “It made me an abomination. Here we were, sitting with perfect predetermined posture, lining up in ruler-rigid queues - we could hardly draw breath if the teacher hadn’t decreed it - and here I was, purposely causing trouble. I was lectured, strapped, sent home. So I decided more pranks would lighten everyone up a bit.”

Stel half-nodded.

“The more they punished me, the more I pranked them, and the more they punished me. If they told me to go left, I’d go right. I didn’t need them.”

Stel didn’t speak for a long breath. I stared at the chip bag.

“You need me now,” she murmured. “And I need you. Can we try to be a team?”

An hour ago, I would’ve cringed, snorted, rolled my eyes, or some combination of the three. I mean, I still did, but I nodded too.

Stel was already at the door, as if we hadn’t poured heart-wrenching confessions to each other. “Keys on that woman. I’ll distract. You can-”

Despite having about six minutes left to live, I grinned. From a pocket, I extracted the gardener’s grappling hook. “My collection saves the day!”

Stel rapped on the azure wood and called amicably, “Hello!”

“Why, hello!” came the startled but friendly reply.

On my belly on the pastel carpet, I agonizingly snaked the rope under the door. Closed one eye, squinted through the gap, and angled the hook. The keys on the woman’s belt dangled a few feet above.

I smirked. This was like any prank.

“How are you?” Stel asked.

I imagined the woman digging for every layer of deceit in those three words. I cast the hook up. It fell short.

I grunted through a mouthful of carpet. “Stupid rope!” It missed the keys by millimeters each time.

“I heard about your tissue boxes,” Stel continued.

I could hear the woman’s small brain whirring. Was Stel threatening to blackmail her?

I threw the rope a last time.

It struck the keys and bounced off.

The woman looked down.

I did the only thing I could think of - wrapped the rope around her ankles and yanked. She crashed down.

By some stroke of luck that only came to fractured girls near death, the keys left her belt and skidded under the door.

Shouts rose.

Stel snatched the keys and tried them one by one. They wouldn’t work.

“What if we took her house keys?” I breathed.

The door whooshed open. A man rushed through. I punched him in the face and bolted under his flailing arms.

More people were yelling now. I collided with the brown edge of the tier, and fell backwards into the crack.

#

I fell. The tiers flashed past, blinks of white in the darkness. In this pocket of nothingness between the tiers and the edge of my world, I wondered if I was already dead.

If not, how long did I have?

That wasn’t a grand unanswerable question. I yelled up at Stel, “Time!”

Her voice wavered. “One!”

One minute. We couldn’t make it. We had to.

You’ve always been more, Adele murmured. Saw more, wanted more, hurt more. You’ve been able to endure more. More than any of us.

I hit solid ground. Stel fell beside me.

The floor was white. The edge of the place was a washed-out brown. Or perhaps it was the haziness of my vision. I was fading, and this time, force of will couldn’t deny it.

“Bli. Bli. Blythe.” Stel was speaking, her voice too high. I forced myself to stay alert. Only white stretched to the left and in front and behind.

Thirty seconds.

An innate timer ticked. The chip bag dug into my palm.

Twenty seconds.

Desperately, I whipped my head around. A pin-pricked window sat in the brown wall to my right. A single ray of light tumbled through it; light like the sum of all the light in the tiers.

Ten seconds.

“Climb up.” Stel stood beneath the window. “That’s Beyond.”

She was right, like she’d so often been. Precariously, I perched on her shoulders.

Eight.

I grasped the ledge. Couldn’t pull myself up.

Six.

The chip bag fluttered down.

Four.

You were always more.

Two.

I pulled, with everything in me, everything that was more.

Zero.

#

I would taste salt and vinegar again.

And Stel would too, if I had to shove the packet in her face-

“Stel!” She had only a few minutes more than me. “Stel!”

How to get her out? I couldn’t panic now. The color and feel and light of this new world sang to me, but I refused to feel it.

The grappling rope! I yanked it out and dangled it through the hole. “Stel, hold on!”

I hauled. Her dark hair came first. The rope strained. I gave a last heave-

It broke.

The hook tumbled into the place beneath the last tier.

Stel cried out as she fell, features taut, grasping at emptiness, nothing like Adele’s acceptance.

I leapt forward.

The first miracle of this new world - I caught her wrist.

#

I was laughing, and crying, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Shapes came into vivid focus. We were sprawled on a table, but we were… becoming larger. With a crash, the wooden surface tipped under our weight.

A single tissue box slid to the ground beside my face.

Half-blinded, Stel and I struggled to our feet. She shoved a door open and now-

We stood in a field, the grass wild and rippling, more vibrant than I’d ever seen, each blade in sharp detail. The sky was blue, the color of hearts and dreams and hope - blue! The light shone from a golden, gleaming globe.

When the wind touched my cheeks, I jumped for pure joy. Crisp and clean, it was a thousand times better than any breeze in the tiers of blossoms or confectionery or perfume.

The tears came for more than euphoria, though. “Why?” I whispered. “Why did they all choose to die?”

“They believed,” murmured Stel, simple and raw, “That it was better to die with everything they knew than to be born again.”

I thought of the tiers, the brown edge, the white skies turning to blinding light. I thought of the tissue box.

With the crisp crack of a chip, it all clicked.

#

Stel and I lounged on two rickety porch chairs, shooing mosquitoes and flies. I shoved salt-and-vinegar chips into my mouth. She managed to fit more in hers.

“Can you imagine,” I said through a mouthful of chips, “we came out of a tissue box?”