Intro
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks as I held my phone in trembling hands. The cracked screen reflected the faint shimmer of the pink moon above me, soft and pale like a ghostly lantern. I’d had plenty of chances to charge it—plenty of times I could’ve hooked up to one of the forgotten generators.
But instead, I sat there in the garden, the night air cool and sweet, with Skull curled in my lap. His fur was impossibly soft, a tiny heartbeat of comfort in a world that was never meant for me. I petted him slowly, letting his purrs rumble through my palms, each one smoothing out a ripple in my aching chest. The last flicker of my phone’s battery glowed faintly as I scrolled through the gallery—through memories that now felt like dreams trapped behind glass.
Pictures of us doing ridiculous things—messy kitchens, those blurry selfies where we were laughing so hard the camera couldn’t keep up. My parents, holding each other. My grandparents, whose love had always been steady as sunrise.
Birthdays.
Reunions.
Holidays.
Just… life.
The kind of life I’ll never have again.
The screen dimmed—then went black.
Gone.
A strange, heavy quiet settled over me. I exhaled slowly and ran my fingers through Skull’s fur again, memorizing the warmth of him. “That’s it, huh?” I whispered to no one in particular. “Guess that’s the last goodbye.”
I slipped the dead phone into a small wooden box, along with the other relics from the day I came here. Skull jumped lightly from my lap, his tail twitching, and watched as I lowered the box into the hole I had dug earlier that morning.
The dirt was cool and damp. My fingers shook as I buried it. Each handful of soil was a heartbeat, a memory, a farewell.
Goodbye, old me.
When it was done, I pressed my palms to the mound and closed my eyes. The earth hummed faintly beneath my touch—like it recognized what I was letting go of.
Maybe it did.
Time runs differently here; maybe even the soil remembers.
I rose, brushing the dirt from my hands, and looked up at the sky that seemed so strange now. A horizon painted in colors that didn’t exist back home. This is home now, I reminded myself, though the words still tasted foreign.
They call me a god here. Some even kneel when I pass. They whisper my name like it’s sacred—Fig- the Goddess. They say the reincarnation flows through my veins like liquid starlight, that my touch can call life back from the edge. I can heal almost anything, anyone, with only water and will. And when I’m not careful, that same water answers my anger—turning to blades, floods, and wrath.
Funny, isn’t it? Back home, I couldn’t get myself a job.
I’m still learning to carry the weight of their reverence. The way their eyes shine with hope when they see me—it’s too much, sometimes. Because deep inside, beneath the calm and the power, I can still feel all my past lives murmuring.
A thousand voices, like ripples in a vast ocean.
My ancestors.
My old selves.
They chatter and hum and guide me, gifting me their strength and sorrow in equal measure.
And yet, beneath it all, I still ache for the simple sound of a really good Nirvana tune.
The night breeze carried the scent of blossoms, and Skull brushed against my leg. I looked toward the horizon where the moon glimmered, and for the first time, I let myself smile.
