Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune
Desdemona Tripplethorne returned to the tea shop, telling them shewanted to see the new employee at Charon’s Crossing for herself. Squat Manand Thin Man crowded behind her, staring at Wallace. Desdemona studiedhim as he fidgeted. Finally, her brow furrowed, and she said, “Have … havewe met? I swear I know you from somewhere.”“No,” Wallace said. “How could we have? I’ve never been here before.”“I suppose you’re right,” she said slowly. She shook her head. “My nameis Desdemona Tripplethorne, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m a clairvoyant—”Mei coughed. It sounded strangely like bullshit.Desdemona ignored her. “—and I come here from time to time to speak tothe spirits that haunt this place. I know how it sounds. But there is more to theworld than you could possibly know.”“Is there?” Wallace asked. “How do you know?”She tapped the side of her head. “I have a gift.”She left an hour later, disappointed when the planchette on her Ouijaboard and the feather quill hadn’t moved even a millimeter. She would beback, she announced grandly before leaving the tea shop in a swirl of selfentitlement,Thin Man and Squat Man hurrying after her.It went on, life did, ever forward. Good days, the not-so-good days, thedays when he wondered how he could stand being surrounded by death formuch longer. It hit Hugo too; though few and far between, he still had panicattacks, days when his breath would catch in his chest, lungs constricting.Wallace never tried to force him through the attacks, just sat on the back deckwith him, tap, tap, tapping, Apollo alert at Hugo’s feet. When Hugorecovered, breaths slow and deep, Wallace whispered, “All right?”“I will be,” Hugo said, taking Wallace’s hand in his own.It wasn’t always Husks. Spirits still came to them, spirits who neededsomeone like Hugo as their ferryman. Often, they were angry and destructive,bitter and cold. Some of them stayed for weeks, ranting and raving about howthey didn’t want to be dead, that they didn’t want to be trapped here, theywere going to leave, and nothing was going to stop them, pulling at the cablesextending from their chests to Hugo’s, threatening to remove the hook thatkept them grounded.They didn’t.They always stayed.
They listened.They learned.They understood, after a time. Some just took longer than others.But that was okay.Each of them found their way to the door, and to what came after.After all, Charon’s Crossing was nothing but a way station.At least for the dead.It was the living who found their roots growing deep in the earth. Teaplants, Hugo had once told Wallace, required patience. You had to put in thetime and have patience.Which is why, on a summer evening, when Nelson said, “I think it’s time,”Wallace knew what he meant.But any reply he had dried up in his throat when he saw who stood beforehim.Gone was the elderly man leaning on a cane.In his place stood a much younger man, back straight, hands claspedbehind him as he looked out the window, cane gone as if it’d never beenthere at all. Wallace recognized him immediately. He’d seen this very man inmany of the photographs hanging on the walls of the tea shop and in Hugo’sroom, mostly in black and white or grainy color.“Nelson?” he whispered.Nelson turned his head and smiled. His wrinkles were gone, replaced bythe smooth skin of someone far younger. His eyes were twinkling. He wasbigger, stronger. His hair sat in a black Afro on his head, much like hisgrandson’s. Decades had melted away until before Wallace stood a man wholooked as young as Hugo. What had Nelson said?It’s simple, really. I like being old.“You stayed as you were because it’s how Hugo knew you when you werealive,” Wallace said hoarsely.“Yes,” Nelson said. “I did. And I’d do it all over again if I had to, but Ithink it’s time for what I want. And Wallace, I want this.”Wallace wiped his tears away. “You’re sure.”He looked back out the window. “I am.”
- Page 281 and 282: He laughed wildly. “If not now, w
- Page 283 and 284: Wallace felt the pull the moment th
- Page 285 and 286: As the sun set, they stood side by
- Page 287 and 288: He failed.His eyes rolled up in his
- Page 289 and 290: They said, “Cameron, let’s go o
- Page 291 and 292: grit his teeth together. Tears floo
- Page 293 and 294: CHAPTER21The next day, Charon’s C
- Page 295 and 296: He hung his head. “I’m scared,
- Page 297 and 298: Nelson rose from his chair, tugging
- Page 299 and 300: on forever. He wondered if there we
- Page 301 and 302: Nelson standing in front of the tea
- Page 303 and 304: Hugo lowered his hand back to the b
- Page 305 and 306: “Hugo?”“Yeah?”“Don’t fo
- Page 307 and 308: Wallace couldn’t. Everything was
- Page 309 and 310: They drank tea as if it were any ot
- Page 311 and 312: impressed.”“Frankly, I don’t
- Page 313 and 314: “Don’t I?” the boy asked. He
- Page 315 and 316: discriminate. It’s there for ever
- Page 317 and 318: “You swear?” Wallace insisted.
- Page 319 and 320: “Not afraid,” the Manager repea
- Page 321 and 322: Someone crouched next to him. “Wa
- Page 323 and 324: The Manager nodded. “The job will
- Page 325 and 326: “I’m leaving now,” the Manage
- Page 328 and 329: EPILOGUEOn an evening in the middle
- Page 330 and 331: It wasn’t easy. Of course it wasn
- Page 334 and 335: Mei made them tea as the rest gathe
- Page 336 and 337: But a river only moves in one direc
- Page 338 and 339: Apollo licked his fingers.Hugo rose
- Page 340 and 341: Mei began to recite the contents of
- Page 342 and 343: Next, the sensitivity readers. Not
- Page 344 and 345: READ ON FORMEI’SINTRODUCTION TORE
- Page 346 and 347: INTRODUCTION TO REAPINGCongratulati
- Page 348 and 349: For example, WHITE HUMAN WOMEN expe
- Page 350 and 351: DD’s file before your arrival, yo
- Page 352 and 353: We believe in you!The Managercc: Un
- Page 356 and 357: ABOUT THE AUTHORTJ KLUNE is the New
- Page 359 and 360: This is a work of fiction. All of t
- Page 361: Chapter 22EpilogueAcknowledgmentsEx
They listened.
They learned.
They understood, after a time. Some just took longer than others.
But that was okay.
Each of them found their way to the door, and to what came after.
After all, Charon’s Crossing was nothing but a way station.
At least for the dead.
It was the living who found their roots growing deep in the earth. Tea
plants, Hugo had once told Wallace, required patience. You had to put in the
time and have patience.
Which is why, on a summer evening, when Nelson said, “I think it’s time,”
Wallace knew what he meant.
But any reply he had dried up in his throat when he saw who stood before
him.
Gone was the elderly man leaning on a cane.
In his place stood a much younger man, back straight, hands clasped
behind him as he looked out the window, cane gone as if it’d never been
there at all. Wallace recognized him immediately. He’d seen this very man in
many of the photographs hanging on the walls of the tea shop and in Hugo’s
room, mostly in black and white or grainy color.
“Nelson?” he whispered.
Nelson turned his head and smiled. His wrinkles were gone, replaced by
the smooth skin of someone far younger. His eyes were twinkling. He was
bigger, stronger. His hair sat in a black Afro on his head, much like his
grandson’s. Decades had melted away until before Wallace stood a man who
looked as young as Hugo. What had Nelson said?
It’s simple, really. I like being old.
“You stayed as you were because it’s how Hugo knew you when you were
alive,” Wallace said hoarsely.
“Yes,” Nelson said. “I did. And I’d do it all over again if I had to, but I
think it’s time for what I want. And Wallace, I want this.”
Wallace wiped his tears away. “You’re sure.”
He looked back out the window. “I am.”
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