Peach Blossom Spring
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I woke up a disappeared girl. I had seen her face on missing person posters stapled and pasted hastily on bulletin boards, lamp posts, and old maple trees, but she didn’t seem bothered the subject was mentioned. She didn’t seem particularly inclined to talk about anything, let alone her own disappearance, so after a day we stopped asking her what happened.
In a way, we all knew. All of us at the Peach Blossom Spring in our perfect little community where everyone worked together in harmony. The first settlers, our Elders, established the accords as laws, and the first is not to actively interact with the outside world. “We’re all here now. That’s all that matters.” They never really determined any punishment for it, though; most of us didn’t ever step back out there once we’d settled, save for myself and a few friends who got assigned this Welcome Center job. My task is to wake up all the newbies and prep them for Orientation, occasionally making rounds in the area to pick up lost ones in the surrounding woods. Heavy mist here at night. Only the older community members knew their way around. As per protocol, I told her she had a week to think about it. “After seven days, no takesy backsies.” Most kids took at least two to three days before settling in with a host family while the workers built their new homes. Some had family already there, waiting. Like this girl, I came alone, and I mulled over the decision for a good five days before I gave in and started training. It was kind of a compromise: I got to stay and see the outside world, unlike most other folks here. They wanted to forget everything. |
CHRISTINE CHEN
is a writer and undergraduate student at Princeton University from Shanghai, China. Her work has been published in the Bellevue Literary Review and Dogwood: A Journal of Poetry and Prose. They are also recognized in both the Delaware region and Nationals of the Scholastics Arts and Writing. |
“No, I’m staying.” She looked at me like I was some wax statue with worms gnawing my ears.
“You sure?”
“Hell yeah! Why do you think I came here? I’m done with the madness out there and I’m never going back.”
“What happened to you? Middle school?” As soon as the joke left my mouth, her expression changed. Her eyes grew cold, the blizzard kind of cold, not ice cream cold. She was about that age, a high school freshman at the oldest if I had to guess. I was maybe a couple of years older when I first came. The rest had always been a blur—how I came, why I decided to come.... I had only the accounts of the older Welcome Center members, which didn’t exactly agree. But I didn’t worry much about it; what’s the use of finding out about my past life when I’d moved on? I’ve been practically nothing but happy here, if this is how it should feel. I hadn’t felt happy in a long time until my arrival.
“Hey, I’m sorry, ok?” She still didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead and past my eyes, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. No one will ask. I can promise you that much.”
“Promise? You still believe in promises?”
“We do here, and we all respect everyone else’s past. No questions asked.”
“Good, because I’m staying.” The ice in her eyes softened into a spring, “Where do I live now?”
“I guess you’re staying with....” I checked the availability chart on the wall and decided against the other vacancies, “Me. I’ll show you around and get you ready for Orientation before your new home is finished.”
“They’re building a house for me? Sweet. That’ll be a first.”
She motioned for me to lead the way, and I did, after mouthing to the rest of the group that I’d be off for the day with my newbie. It had been a busy week, and we had a near overflow of newbies, predominantly kids, at the Welcome Center that even our team was struggling to keep up.
But this girl had something that drew me to her, that made me want to stay behind and protect her even if it meant leaving the crew hating me and my unprofessional imprudence. She’d do much better with me. I just knew it.
She kept me busy the first few days, asked lots of questions about the community, and the Spring itself. I told her she would learn everything she needed to know at Orientation but gave her the gist anyway. She didn’t bother me much besides that; I mostly kept to myself and she respected that, didn’t ask any personal questions. Normally, everyone here tries to respect privacy too, but every once in a while, someone slips up and crosses boundaries. And the offended can’t do anything about it; no fights allowed here, according to the accords, and disputes are settled verbally, as peacefully as possible. Newbies, on the other hand, often don’t know better, which might have been why I didn’t host many. But this girl had been good company since day one. She had a sense of nihilistic humor that I always appreciated, even before Peach Blossom Spring, although here people don’t like it much. “Too dark,” the Elders scolded, “and no talking about death. It’s not healthy. Too negative.” I’d wondered but kept my mouth shut; I’d earned my place here, and I didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.
“How long have you been here?” This was the only personal question she did ask. I flipped through my notebook and tried to remember. We don’t use the Gregorian calendar here. A symbol of breaking from the outside world. No clocks either. The big bell in the community center chimes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “To be free from outside influence,” The Elders wrote in the accords,
“We are reborn here.”
“I guess it’s almost 4 years?” I finally decided. In the early days I thought of marking the wall. But that would raise questions. Newbies would ask. Complaints could be issued. Elders notified, even. I never wanted any trouble. I just journaled, brief entries for each passing day, always some remark about the job. Nothing to note about the weather; it’s almost always beautiful. The magic of the Spring, shielding us from the cold. At least that’s what they said at Orientation, and I never question the Orientation.
“You must’ve been young then.” she paused, choosing her words, “you know, when you first came.”
“I was a little older than you. By a couple years maybe?”
“You still look that way. Guess you’ve aged well.”
“Magic of the Spring: pH-balanced, full of antioxidants. We all drink from it.” I blurted out, almost laughing.
“You sound like a beauty product commercial. Or just propaganda,” she said plainly.
“Except I’m not lying.” As much as I appreciated the cynicism, I did not want her to get in trouble later. Best to start training her now.
“That’s what they want you to think.”
“Yeah, because it’s true.” Something about her language made me double back, “why would you say that?”
“I did grow up watching true-crime and cult documentaries. Why’d you think I was here?”
Crime. Cults. Those were distant words.
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
That night I couldn’t sleep. Not that I slept much usually anyway. We occasionally had night shifts to pick up Lost Souls in the area. I took most of them since I came on the job. I liked the woods at night. Quiet. Still. Sometimes I would see deer and they would just look right past me like I wasn’t even there. The pure anonymity. Besides, I had always been a night owl, and few others wanted the night shifts. So why not?
But this was different. It was dead stillness that haunted. I couldn’t hear her soft breathing in the next room because she slept with the door closed. There was no electricity whirl, no breeze, no grasshopper chatter. I stared at the blank ceiling and thought about what she said during the day. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” Why was I here? I hadn’t really thought about that in a long time. Not that I would remember why if I tried. Peach Blossom Spring had become a pre-condition. There was no longer a before. This had become all.
I woke up in cold sweat. There was no dream and I did not remember when or how I fell asleep. Just that I did. Strange how I had no memory of ever dreaming here. It seemed that no one else did, either, but of course we don’t talk about those private aspects of life. What happens behind closed doors stays behind closed doors. Especially the bedroom. Even my newbie didn’t ask. Not that I would know. Probably deeper sleep or something. The morning after my first night here I had never felt better rested. The relief of guaranteed safety. I had found my sanctuary.
It was her last day before Orientation. After today she would spend time with her fellow newbies, learning the ropes of the community. The rights, rules, and responsibilities of a citizen. She would only sleep in my house. Even her meals would be with the Orientation group. I would return to my regular post, wait and wander and welcome. Back to my old life. No, not that old life. We don’t talk about that old life. We’re not allowed. I did not want to get in trouble. Nor did I want to speak of it in the first place.
But she had to ask. Why was I surprised? It was her last day and I had told her there were no stupid questions. The curiosity of a teenage brain. “So, you haven’t told me: why are you here?”
“Same reason as the others, probably. Why?”
“Really, same as the others?”
“We’ve all come together because we wanted out, right? To leave behind that old life.”
“But what is that old life? Who were you before this place?” She looked me in the eye with the intensity of a thousand suns, ready to call my bluff anytime. I couldn’t look away. Her eyes were the kind of gray that freezes you. Hauntingly beautiful but cold, like the winter we never have.
“Fine, I know we’re not supposed to talk about the outside world but, come on, I’m new and we’re friends. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She blinked and shattered the ice.
“Do you not remember?”
“I—” My voice caught in my throat. My mind went blank no matter how hard I tried to recall.
“You don’t remember.”
I shook my head.
“Well shit. I guess they really brainwash you huh?”
“What?”
“You didn’t know how you got here?”
“I was found, by a Welcome Center agent, like you.” It was the only plausible answer.
“Right. But how were you lost in the first place?”
“I must’ve...made a few wrong turns....”
“To end up here? By yourself?”
“They found me.”
“No. You were dead. They found your body.” She was annunciating as if I was deaf, loud and slow.
“What are you talking about? I’m right here.” I couldn’t understand. Did she go cuckoo overnight? “How could I be talking to you if I’m dead?”
“Easy. Because I’m dead too.”
I broke out in laughter. “Very funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Sure you’re not.” It could only be a joke, albeit a bad one. The one that would get you a meeting with the Elders.
“Oh come on you’re not listening.” She flushed in frustration. The red on her cheek made her look even paler. Almost inhuman.
“I can hear you loud and clear, young lady.” I decided I was done playing games for the day. “Alright, quit it. We’re gonna be late for community lunch.”
As much as I dismissed the absurdity, during lunch I couldn’t stop thinking: what if she wasn’t joking at all? What if she was right? But then I remembered our training: “newbies are sometimes in denial and will say things. Just ignore them till Orientation.” After all, she was just a newbie, and I’d been here for almost four years. What did she know about this place, this community? What did she know about me?
After lunch, I got called back into the center. We were short-staffed with me on babysitting duty, and they suspected Lost Souls in the area. No one had had the time to check since I’d been gone. “What about my girl?” Newbies needed to be supervised at all times. It was often why I did not host them. A burden. “Take her. She’ll be fine. Check out the city perimeter if you have time.”
“Alright, you and I are going on an adventure.” I tried to sound excited. Most of the time, patrols were uneventful. No reason why it wouldn’t be the same today. But we had to check.
“You mean into the woods.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound excited.” She read through me like an open book, my disguise thin as paper, my face red.
“It’s work.”
“I know what you do.”
“Well, you kind of have to come with me, so whenever you’re ready.”
She laced up her boots and we marched into the woods. Houses disappeared behind us. The air felt surprisingly stale and foreign. And warm. I was not used to coming here during the day. Odd that they sent me too. Must’ve been word from the Elders. We did not change routines unless they said so.
“What do we do if we find someone?” She broke the silence, kicking the grass.
“Bring them back to camp and report—"
“To the Elders.” She sighed into her interruption.
“Yes, to the Elders.”
“They run everything. Why?”
“Because they founded the community; established the rights, rules, and responsibilities; and have the most experience.”
“Right. You believe that?”
“Believe what?”
“Whatever bullshit you just told me.” She yanked a leaf from a low branch, “I mean, seriously, does no one question anything?”
“Honey, people don’t lie here. It’s kind of expected.”
“Right, so no one talks about anything.”
“Why are you so feisty today?” I stopped to turn to her trailing five steps behind me. I hadn’t found anyone yet. Thank God. I didn’t want to. Dealing with her alone was already a chore.
“I’m just being honest. You said it yourself, people don’t lie here. So that’s what I’m doing,
speaking my mind and not lying.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I already said it. You didn’t want to believe me.”
“This morning? I already told you it wasn’t funny.”
“I DID NOT LIE!” She was yelling now. The air between us wavered. I remembered how warm it was. My gut told me she was serious.
“Ok, you have a lot of explaining to do.” No one would hear us here—no one was allowed here, really, besides us Welcome Center people, and I would bet my life that I was the only one on duty. I could safely indulge her.
“I’m not crazy.” She stopped and motioned to sit down. I gestured back to keep moving. We had a lot of ground to cover before dinner.
“I’m not saying you are.”
“Then quit acting like I am!”
“I’m listening. Are you going to tell me or not?”
“So, you’re dead and I’m dead—”
“Ok slow down.”
“This Peach Blossom Spring place is a cemete—did you see that?”
A blur. Something dropped on the forest ground. The shadow phasing through the thick woods toward the highway. I had theories about the Lost Souls in the woods before, but I had never seen it in action. An abandonment. Freaking coward. Didn’t even see us.
“Don’t worry, we’re here!” I yelled out of instinct. Not that they would hear us. We usually found Lost Souls unconscious. Drugged or passed out from shock or pure fear.
“Help—“ An unexpected low croak. It reminded me of sand grating glass, dry. It sounded anything but natural. We followed the sound to find a patch of ground soaked in blood. A young man lay in the middle choking on his own blood. He had been stabbed. The knife still in his abdomen that he was too afraid to pull out. He looked my age.
I rushed to kneel next to him, “stay with me, ok? We’re going to get you help.” I tore off my flannel, “I’m going to press on that wound, ok?”
The light in his eyes was fading by the second. I wondered if he even saw us.
“Don’t bother.” She towered over us. Her gray eyes were cold again.
“I can’t just let him die.”
“Oh no he will die regardless.”
“How could you say that?” The cruelty of middle schoolers, perhaps. I wrapped my flannel around my hand and reached down to press. But my hand went straight through him. “What the hell?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you,” she pulled me up, “we’re dead. We can’t interact with the living, and he’s still alive.”
“But, but...” I was shaking now, uncontrollably. I looked at my hands, not even blood-stained. It couldn’t be.
All I could do was run.
I somehow ended up on the edge of the woods. One more step and I would be on the highway. The city sulked across the road, a giant living thing. Everything was so loud compared to the Spring. A long moment later the girl caught up, panting.
“You’re fast.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I didn’t even look at her. I heard her sit down.
“Ok then.”
We sat in silence, staring at the traffic. Beyond the woods was the outside world we left behind.
“I’m sorry,” another while later, she started again, “I thought you should at least know. It seemed cruel that you were all just lied to.”
Lied to. My past four years had been a lie?
“If it makes you feel any better, we’re all dead. I mean, Peach Blossom Spring is a cemetery. That’s why we can touch each other. It’s a nice place, really.” She waited for me to say something. “I had actually heard about this place before I got here. Quite a few of us have. It’s why I chose to come here. To go in peace. Less commotion that way. It’s quiet and away from people.”
Her breathing was shaking a little. But if we were dead, how was that possible?
“You know I didn’t expect I would wake up like this when I did it. I just wanted it to be over. It’s why I was so upset when you brought up middle school on the first day. You were right. I—”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I said out of habit.
“It’s alright. I’m here. I wanted this. Anyway, long story short, shit happened. I came alone to die, here. And then you found me. I woke up in this afterlife thing in the Spring. I guess we’re just souls now, and most people suffer from amnesia from the actual death because it’s too traumatizing.”
“But what about the missing person posters for you?”
“I ran away yesterday. Well, yesterday for the living, at least. I remember that much because I did it myself. I don’t know, time is probably weird because why not? That person would’ve been dead by the time we found him otherwise.” she took my hand for the first time,“there’s probably a poster for you by now. You’ve probably only been gone for a few days.”
If all that was true, how did I...how did I end up here?
I stood up and stepped out of the woods. There, on the nearest pole, was a poster. It took me a second before I recognized the face as my own. We didn’t have mirrors in the community.
She was right.
“Morgan Langley, Age 17, Green eyes, light brown hair, last seen on April 14th, 2019, near St. Francis Academy....”
She didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t say anything at all. We both had guesses of what happened, all equally unspeakable. She just stood up and pulled me back into the woods. “Let’s go home. We’ll grab that poor guy on our way. We should still make it before dinner.”
Home.
What home did I have left, besides Peach Blossom Spring?
“You sure?”
“Hell yeah! Why do you think I came here? I’m done with the madness out there and I’m never going back.”
“What happened to you? Middle school?” As soon as the joke left my mouth, her expression changed. Her eyes grew cold, the blizzard kind of cold, not ice cream cold. She was about that age, a high school freshman at the oldest if I had to guess. I was maybe a couple of years older when I first came. The rest had always been a blur—how I came, why I decided to come.... I had only the accounts of the older Welcome Center members, which didn’t exactly agree. But I didn’t worry much about it; what’s the use of finding out about my past life when I’d moved on? I’ve been practically nothing but happy here, if this is how it should feel. I hadn’t felt happy in a long time until my arrival.
“Hey, I’m sorry, ok?” She still didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead and past my eyes, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. No one will ask. I can promise you that much.”
“Promise? You still believe in promises?”
“We do here, and we all respect everyone else’s past. No questions asked.”
“Good, because I’m staying.” The ice in her eyes softened into a spring, “Where do I live now?”
“I guess you’re staying with....” I checked the availability chart on the wall and decided against the other vacancies, “Me. I’ll show you around and get you ready for Orientation before your new home is finished.”
“They’re building a house for me? Sweet. That’ll be a first.”
She motioned for me to lead the way, and I did, after mouthing to the rest of the group that I’d be off for the day with my newbie. It had been a busy week, and we had a near overflow of newbies, predominantly kids, at the Welcome Center that even our team was struggling to keep up.
But this girl had something that drew me to her, that made me want to stay behind and protect her even if it meant leaving the crew hating me and my unprofessional imprudence. She’d do much better with me. I just knew it.
She kept me busy the first few days, asked lots of questions about the community, and the Spring itself. I told her she would learn everything she needed to know at Orientation but gave her the gist anyway. She didn’t bother me much besides that; I mostly kept to myself and she respected that, didn’t ask any personal questions. Normally, everyone here tries to respect privacy too, but every once in a while, someone slips up and crosses boundaries. And the offended can’t do anything about it; no fights allowed here, according to the accords, and disputes are settled verbally, as peacefully as possible. Newbies, on the other hand, often don’t know better, which might have been why I didn’t host many. But this girl had been good company since day one. She had a sense of nihilistic humor that I always appreciated, even before Peach Blossom Spring, although here people don’t like it much. “Too dark,” the Elders scolded, “and no talking about death. It’s not healthy. Too negative.” I’d wondered but kept my mouth shut; I’d earned my place here, and I didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.
“How long have you been here?” This was the only personal question she did ask. I flipped through my notebook and tried to remember. We don’t use the Gregorian calendar here. A symbol of breaking from the outside world. No clocks either. The big bell in the community center chimes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “To be free from outside influence,” The Elders wrote in the accords,
“We are reborn here.”
“I guess it’s almost 4 years?” I finally decided. In the early days I thought of marking the wall. But that would raise questions. Newbies would ask. Complaints could be issued. Elders notified, even. I never wanted any trouble. I just journaled, brief entries for each passing day, always some remark about the job. Nothing to note about the weather; it’s almost always beautiful. The magic of the Spring, shielding us from the cold. At least that’s what they said at Orientation, and I never question the Orientation.
“You must’ve been young then.” she paused, choosing her words, “you know, when you first came.”
“I was a little older than you. By a couple years maybe?”
“You still look that way. Guess you’ve aged well.”
“Magic of the Spring: pH-balanced, full of antioxidants. We all drink from it.” I blurted out, almost laughing.
“You sound like a beauty product commercial. Or just propaganda,” she said plainly.
“Except I’m not lying.” As much as I appreciated the cynicism, I did not want her to get in trouble later. Best to start training her now.
“That’s what they want you to think.”
“Yeah, because it’s true.” Something about her language made me double back, “why would you say that?”
“I did grow up watching true-crime and cult documentaries. Why’d you think I was here?”
Crime. Cults. Those were distant words.
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
That night I couldn’t sleep. Not that I slept much usually anyway. We occasionally had night shifts to pick up Lost Souls in the area. I took most of them since I came on the job. I liked the woods at night. Quiet. Still. Sometimes I would see deer and they would just look right past me like I wasn’t even there. The pure anonymity. Besides, I had always been a night owl, and few others wanted the night shifts. So why not?
But this was different. It was dead stillness that haunted. I couldn’t hear her soft breathing in the next room because she slept with the door closed. There was no electricity whirl, no breeze, no grasshopper chatter. I stared at the blank ceiling and thought about what she said during the day. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” Why was I here? I hadn’t really thought about that in a long time. Not that I would remember why if I tried. Peach Blossom Spring had become a pre-condition. There was no longer a before. This had become all.
I woke up in cold sweat. There was no dream and I did not remember when or how I fell asleep. Just that I did. Strange how I had no memory of ever dreaming here. It seemed that no one else did, either, but of course we don’t talk about those private aspects of life. What happens behind closed doors stays behind closed doors. Especially the bedroom. Even my newbie didn’t ask. Not that I would know. Probably deeper sleep or something. The morning after my first night here I had never felt better rested. The relief of guaranteed safety. I had found my sanctuary.
It was her last day before Orientation. After today she would spend time with her fellow newbies, learning the ropes of the community. The rights, rules, and responsibilities of a citizen. She would only sleep in my house. Even her meals would be with the Orientation group. I would return to my regular post, wait and wander and welcome. Back to my old life. No, not that old life. We don’t talk about that old life. We’re not allowed. I did not want to get in trouble. Nor did I want to speak of it in the first place.
But she had to ask. Why was I surprised? It was her last day and I had told her there were no stupid questions. The curiosity of a teenage brain. “So, you haven’t told me: why are you here?”
“Same reason as the others, probably. Why?”
“Really, same as the others?”
“We’ve all come together because we wanted out, right? To leave behind that old life.”
“But what is that old life? Who were you before this place?” She looked me in the eye with the intensity of a thousand suns, ready to call my bluff anytime. I couldn’t look away. Her eyes were the kind of gray that freezes you. Hauntingly beautiful but cold, like the winter we never have.
“Fine, I know we’re not supposed to talk about the outside world but, come on, I’m new and we’re friends. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She blinked and shattered the ice.
“Do you not remember?”
“I—” My voice caught in my throat. My mind went blank no matter how hard I tried to recall.
“You don’t remember.”
I shook my head.
“Well shit. I guess they really brainwash you huh?”
“What?”
“You didn’t know how you got here?”
“I was found, by a Welcome Center agent, like you.” It was the only plausible answer.
“Right. But how were you lost in the first place?”
“I must’ve...made a few wrong turns....”
“To end up here? By yourself?”
“They found me.”
“No. You were dead. They found your body.” She was annunciating as if I was deaf, loud and slow.
“What are you talking about? I’m right here.” I couldn’t understand. Did she go cuckoo overnight? “How could I be talking to you if I’m dead?”
“Easy. Because I’m dead too.”
I broke out in laughter. “Very funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Sure you’re not.” It could only be a joke, albeit a bad one. The one that would get you a meeting with the Elders.
“Oh come on you’re not listening.” She flushed in frustration. The red on her cheek made her look even paler. Almost inhuman.
“I can hear you loud and clear, young lady.” I decided I was done playing games for the day. “Alright, quit it. We’re gonna be late for community lunch.”
As much as I dismissed the absurdity, during lunch I couldn’t stop thinking: what if she wasn’t joking at all? What if she was right? But then I remembered our training: “newbies are sometimes in denial and will say things. Just ignore them till Orientation.” After all, she was just a newbie, and I’d been here for almost four years. What did she know about this place, this community? What did she know about me?
After lunch, I got called back into the center. We were short-staffed with me on babysitting duty, and they suspected Lost Souls in the area. No one had had the time to check since I’d been gone. “What about my girl?” Newbies needed to be supervised at all times. It was often why I did not host them. A burden. “Take her. She’ll be fine. Check out the city perimeter if you have time.”
“Alright, you and I are going on an adventure.” I tried to sound excited. Most of the time, patrols were uneventful. No reason why it wouldn’t be the same today. But we had to check.
“You mean into the woods.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound excited.” She read through me like an open book, my disguise thin as paper, my face red.
“It’s work.”
“I know what you do.”
“Well, you kind of have to come with me, so whenever you’re ready.”
She laced up her boots and we marched into the woods. Houses disappeared behind us. The air felt surprisingly stale and foreign. And warm. I was not used to coming here during the day. Odd that they sent me too. Must’ve been word from the Elders. We did not change routines unless they said so.
“What do we do if we find someone?” She broke the silence, kicking the grass.
“Bring them back to camp and report—"
“To the Elders.” She sighed into her interruption.
“Yes, to the Elders.”
“They run everything. Why?”
“Because they founded the community; established the rights, rules, and responsibilities; and have the most experience.”
“Right. You believe that?”
“Believe what?”
“Whatever bullshit you just told me.” She yanked a leaf from a low branch, “I mean, seriously, does no one question anything?”
“Honey, people don’t lie here. It’s kind of expected.”
“Right, so no one talks about anything.”
“Why are you so feisty today?” I stopped to turn to her trailing five steps behind me. I hadn’t found anyone yet. Thank God. I didn’t want to. Dealing with her alone was already a chore.
“I’m just being honest. You said it yourself, people don’t lie here. So that’s what I’m doing,
speaking my mind and not lying.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I already said it. You didn’t want to believe me.”
“This morning? I already told you it wasn’t funny.”
“I DID NOT LIE!” She was yelling now. The air between us wavered. I remembered how warm it was. My gut told me she was serious.
“Ok, you have a lot of explaining to do.” No one would hear us here—no one was allowed here, really, besides us Welcome Center people, and I would bet my life that I was the only one on duty. I could safely indulge her.
“I’m not crazy.” She stopped and motioned to sit down. I gestured back to keep moving. We had a lot of ground to cover before dinner.
“I’m not saying you are.”
“Then quit acting like I am!”
“I’m listening. Are you going to tell me or not?”
“So, you’re dead and I’m dead—”
“Ok slow down.”
“This Peach Blossom Spring place is a cemete—did you see that?”
A blur. Something dropped on the forest ground. The shadow phasing through the thick woods toward the highway. I had theories about the Lost Souls in the woods before, but I had never seen it in action. An abandonment. Freaking coward. Didn’t even see us.
“Don’t worry, we’re here!” I yelled out of instinct. Not that they would hear us. We usually found Lost Souls unconscious. Drugged or passed out from shock or pure fear.
“Help—“ An unexpected low croak. It reminded me of sand grating glass, dry. It sounded anything but natural. We followed the sound to find a patch of ground soaked in blood. A young man lay in the middle choking on his own blood. He had been stabbed. The knife still in his abdomen that he was too afraid to pull out. He looked my age.
I rushed to kneel next to him, “stay with me, ok? We’re going to get you help.” I tore off my flannel, “I’m going to press on that wound, ok?”
The light in his eyes was fading by the second. I wondered if he even saw us.
“Don’t bother.” She towered over us. Her gray eyes were cold again.
“I can’t just let him die.”
“Oh no he will die regardless.”
“How could you say that?” The cruelty of middle schoolers, perhaps. I wrapped my flannel around my hand and reached down to press. But my hand went straight through him. “What the hell?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you,” she pulled me up, “we’re dead. We can’t interact with the living, and he’s still alive.”
“But, but...” I was shaking now, uncontrollably. I looked at my hands, not even blood-stained. It couldn’t be.
All I could do was run.
I somehow ended up on the edge of the woods. One more step and I would be on the highway. The city sulked across the road, a giant living thing. Everything was so loud compared to the Spring. A long moment later the girl caught up, panting.
“You’re fast.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I didn’t even look at her. I heard her sit down.
“Ok then.”
We sat in silence, staring at the traffic. Beyond the woods was the outside world we left behind.
“I’m sorry,” another while later, she started again, “I thought you should at least know. It seemed cruel that you were all just lied to.”
Lied to. My past four years had been a lie?
“If it makes you feel any better, we’re all dead. I mean, Peach Blossom Spring is a cemetery. That’s why we can touch each other. It’s a nice place, really.” She waited for me to say something. “I had actually heard about this place before I got here. Quite a few of us have. It’s why I chose to come here. To go in peace. Less commotion that way. It’s quiet and away from people.”
Her breathing was shaking a little. But if we were dead, how was that possible?
“You know I didn’t expect I would wake up like this when I did it. I just wanted it to be over. It’s why I was so upset when you brought up middle school on the first day. You were right. I—”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I said out of habit.
“It’s alright. I’m here. I wanted this. Anyway, long story short, shit happened. I came alone to die, here. And then you found me. I woke up in this afterlife thing in the Spring. I guess we’re just souls now, and most people suffer from amnesia from the actual death because it’s too traumatizing.”
“But what about the missing person posters for you?”
“I ran away yesterday. Well, yesterday for the living, at least. I remember that much because I did it myself. I don’t know, time is probably weird because why not? That person would’ve been dead by the time we found him otherwise.” she took my hand for the first time,“there’s probably a poster for you by now. You’ve probably only been gone for a few days.”
If all that was true, how did I...how did I end up here?
I stood up and stepped out of the woods. There, on the nearest pole, was a poster. It took me a second before I recognized the face as my own. We didn’t have mirrors in the community.
She was right.
“Morgan Langley, Age 17, Green eyes, light brown hair, last seen on April 14th, 2019, near St. Francis Academy....”
She didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t say anything at all. We both had guesses of what happened, all equally unspeakable. She just stood up and pulled me back into the woods. “Let’s go home. We’ll grab that poor guy on our way. We should still make it before dinner.”
Home.
What home did I have left, besides Peach Blossom Spring?