American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, American -- Periodicals
"I think that people make an idiotic row about dying, anyway. It's
probably jolly good fun--and I can't see what difference a few years
here would make if you're going to have all eternity to play with.
Of course you're a ghastly little heathen, and I can see you wagging
a mournful head over this already--but every time that I remember
what a shocking sell the After Life (exquisite phrase!) is going to
be for you, darling, I do a bit of head-wagging myself--and it's not
precisely mournful! I can't wait to see your blank consternation--and
you needn't expect any sympathy from _me_. My very first words will
be, 'I told you so!' Maybe I'll rap them out to you with a table-leg!
"What do you think of all this Ouija Planchette rumpus, anyway? I
can't for the life of me see why any one with a whole new world to
explore should hang around chattering with this one. I know that I'd
be half mad with excitement to get at the new job, and that I'd find
re-assuring the loved ones (exquisite phrase number two) a hideous
bore. Still, I can see that it would be nice from their selfish
point of view! Well, I'm no ghost yet, thank God--nor yet are
you--but if ever I am one, I'll show you what devotion really is.
I'll come all the way back from heaven to play with foolish Janie,
who doesn't believe that there is one to come from. To foolish,
foolish Janie, who still will be dearer than the prettiest angel of
them all, no matter how alluringly her halo may be tilted or her
wings ruffled. To Janie who, Heaven forgive him, will be all that
one poor ghost has ever loved!"
Had there come to him, the radiant and the confident, a moment of
terrible and shattering surprise--a moment when he realized that
there were no pretty angels with shining wings waiting to greet
him--a moment when he saw before him only the overwhelming darkness,
blacker and deeper than the night would be, when she blew out the
little hungry flame that was eating up the sheet that held his
laughter? Oh, gladly would she have died a thousand deaths to have
spared him that moment!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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