I submitted the story below to a contest recently. It didn’t place so I’m sharing it now. In this one the genre was open and I was assigned two prompts that had to be included: career advisor and mosaic. I went with fantasy/magical realism with a humorous touch. I hope you like it, but if you don’t, please don’t tell me.

Afterlife Positions Available

An hour and ten minutes after Ellen Tyler collapsed into the koi pond at the Dallas Arboretum, she woke in a sterile white room. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Was this a waiting room, in a clinic or hospital? She hoped they took Medicare. Puzzled, she patted her chest. Her clothes – the same cargo pants and matching shirt she had dressed in that morning – were dry and clean.

Right before splashing in the pond, she had felt nauseous and dizzy. She had leaned over, snapping a photo of an orange carp, until a sharp pain in her arm made her drop her iPhone into the water. When she reached to retrieve it, she blacked out. Afterwards, blue and red flashing lights, shouting, and her sister Trina’s shocked face filled some of the blank spots in her memory.

The door on the other side of the room swung open and a tall, wide man filled the doorway. He wore a wrinkled gray suit and had the pleasant, smiling expression of a television weatherman predicting sunny weather.

“Hello! Sorry about the wait. We weren’t sure when you would arrive.” He stuck out his hand. “You must be Ellen. I’m Milton.”

Ellen squeezed the man’s hand. Then, not knowing what else to do, she followed him into his office. A dull metal desk filled one half of the room. Files, folders, and yellowed paper covered the desktop and overflowed onto the floor. Milton stooped and removed a cardboard box from his chair, then pulled over a wooden chair for Ellen. 

The white walls held two posters—one had a photo of a kitten clinging to a clothesline and the words “Hang in There” scrolled across the top. The other sign featured a montage of at least thirty images. A sheet-covered cartoon ghost held the center square, surrounded by several other pictures that looked like they belonged on the covers of horror novels. There was a gnarled being with knife-sharp nails, a thin man with solid black eyes, and a transparent, shrouded figure. As she stared at the poster, one of the images, a woman clothed in a long black dress, waved at Ellen.

“Where the hell am I?” she asked.

Milton’s face turned red. “You’re not in…” He coughed, “…that other place.” He shuffled a stack of papers and pulled out a glossy brochure. Handing it to Ellen, he said, “This is the Career Placement Agency for the Afterlife.”

“Wait.” Ellen fanned herself with the flyer. “I’m dead?” How could this be? She had celebrated her 71st birthday last month, but she had also received a perfect checkup from her doctor.

“You expired this afternoon.” Milton laced his fingers together. “Heart attack and drowning.”

How embarrassing. Ellen always assumed she would pass quietly in her sleep at age 101. What a ruckus she must have caused. Trina would never forgive her for insisting on tromping around in the summer heat instead of enjoying an afternoon matinee in an air-conditioned movie theater. Her sister loved the movies. Trina would have to find someone else to share her senior discount pass at Movie Plex.  

“I thought the afterlife was filled with harps and angels, not work.” Ellen held up the brochure. The cartoon ghost from the wall poster graced the cover. The title, written in Comic Sans font, read “Guiding Your Choice for Eternity—A Mosaic of Diverse Opportunities.”

“These experiences are designed to bring purpose to your life after death. I’m here to guide you in choosing which form your spirit will take.” Milton pointed behind him, to the collage of images. “Each afterlife represents at least one of our six core skills—comfort, entertainment, education, inspiration, caution, and remembrance. For example, you could choose Lady of the Lake or ectoplasm entity.”

“I drowned in the damn koi pond, Milton. I can’t imagine haunting knee-deep water for the rest of my time. And that ecto thing just looks like a blob of green goo.”

“You have leftover anger issues. Maybe a spot as a poltergeist?”

Ellen huffed. “Spend eternity chunking pots and pans in someone’s kitchen?”

“It’s not just pan chunking.” Milton sat up straight. “It’s entertainment.” When Ellen didn’t respond, he continued. “Do you like travel? I have an opening for a Vanishing Hitchhiker.”

“Can I give it a trial run?”

Milton clapped his hands. “Of course! I’ll see you back in a week.”

After the first three nights of waiting on a desolate country road for a car to pass by, Ellen wished that time would pass more quickly in the afterlife. The fourth night, a farmer in a rusted pickup with bad shocks gave her a ride. Grateful for the company, she forgot to vanish, and rode with him into town. She had to walk the six miles back to her post.

When the week was up, she met with Milton again. Her past wasn’t dark enough to qualify her as a revenant. She wasn’t deeply melancholic, so wraith would not be a good fit. She would end up a ghost orb, floating over a swamp and being mistaken for a ball of gas.

“What else is there?” Ellen pointed to the cartoon ghost in the collage. “How about that one, but without the sheet?”

Milton sighed. “I hoped to place you in an entertainment or inspiration position. Most of the other careers require a commitment to a static location.”

“That’s fine. And I know a perfect place.”

Ellen floated along at Movie Plex, creating cold spots in the ladies’ restroom and leaving the scent of popcorn in newly cleaned theaters. Her sister bought a ticket the second week, for the new Tom Cruise flick. Ellen settled in the empty seat next to her and whispered, “Hello.” When Trina turned her head to peer at the vacant spot, Ellen waited until the air conditioning kicked on with a burst of cold, then brushed a strand of hair from her sister’s face.  

“Well. Hello,” Trina said, and smiled. 

THE END