He eats, he gnaws, he scratches, he bites. And now he rests in a teacup.
Oh tormented soul, how you remain frozen in time.
Badger doesn’t know why he’s been here so long. When you die, you are supposed to carry on to something else. But his crooked jaw now rests immobile and free of ever being broken down naturally. The beauty of nature and soil refuses to take his soul away. Instead, artificial display holds him hostage.
He could sense another, of familiar fate nearby. However, their screams more panicked and yet more muffled.
One day, during “dusting” (whatever that is), Badger caught a glimpse of the poor bastard. Also frozen in time, in a more claustrophobic manner. No outside air, no hope of freedom or moments to breathe. Not that the afterlife includes much breathing, but panic surpasses boundaries of life and death.
Badger and Bird sat there for many days, never understanding the sick and grotesque motivations of the god who held them captive. Most things humans do are unorthodox and make no sense, and this seemed to just be another example of it.
Oh just let us pass.
Please just let us pass.
But humans struggle to deal with death, and perhaps have a perverse obsession with it. As the unstoppable force, it is the one that beats us all in the end. And perhaps that’s what makes the rest of it worth it. But perhaps it is also why we shove skeletons on our shelves next to funeral cards.
Deaths crossing will reach us all in time. Lay down and embrace it occasionally. For when it does, we shall greet her as one that we know.