Date Night

 Date Night

The world we live in is home to many planes of existence. There’s the one we all know, the mortal plane. It is home to all life that ends and is by far, the most densely populated. There are many other notable planes too, such as the Celestial plane- or even Hell. Between all of those planes of existence, there exists a slither of time and space that few beings are known to visit. This plane, given its nature, is simply known as Limbo. I run a bar there.

It’s a quiet little joint by the name of The Wayside. My clientele primarily consists of those that walk between planes, as Limbo is not really a place one can just stumble into. Sometimes, I get the pleasure of serving wayward souls who got lost on the way back to their bodies after a near-death experience. That’s always a delight. If you or anyone you know finds themself mortally wounded and in need of a stiff drink before your soul finds its way back to its body, stop by The Wayside and ask for the proprietor- your first drink is on me.

But, like I said, my clientele is generally made up of those who walk between worlds. Primordial beings and the like. They’re a fascinating bunch, no doubt about it. When you’ve been walking a world since its dust first settled, I suppose it’s a given you have some stories to share. I often find, however, that the most interesting stories are the ones you never get to hear about. I’m going to share with you all a story that nobody else could ever tell you; a story that you simply won’t believe.

It was an evening like any other. I had a few Gods from the Celestial Plane come by for happy hour, as well as a couple of Demons from Hell in to drown their sorrows after a recent demotion to the Sixth Circle. I also consoled a lost soul that wandered in after a particularly violent run-in with a Gnome. Business as usual really. Then, as if Fate had just noticed my casual acceptance of an uneventful evening, Life strolled through the door. 

They were as effervescent as always, clad in a bespoke leather suit as bright as freshly settled snow on a calm Winter’s morning. Atop their shoulders rested their deeply unsettling head, a grand pumpkin with roots that fused seamlessly with their neck. Their eyes were lit with white-hot flames that felt as if they would burn deep into your soul if you stared at them too intently. It wasn’t an unpleasant burn, though. Somehow, it filled you with a warm nostalgia, as if you were once more a baby cradled into your mother’s welcoming arms. 

It had been months since Life had come down to The Wayside for a drink, but when it comes to Life- it never feels like they haven’t been around for too long. Such is the nature of one of our world’s oldest citizens: life is everywhere, so they are too. As they continued to stroll over to a stool by the bar, I began pouring them a cup of my finest ale. What sort of bartender would I be if I served Life themself the same drink I gave to belligerent Gods and unseemly Demons? Not a very bright one. It isn’t wise to get on the bad side of a Primordial Being.

“Good evening, Bartender. Everything well in Limbo?” they murmured.

“Oh, Limbo is the same as always, Life- so-so. How are things… everywhere else?” I responded as I passed them their drink.

“Business as usual, thankfully,” they stopped to take a sip, “it’s been a quiet century, so far. Lovely ale as always.”

“Only the best for you, Life. So, where’s your other half this evening?” I continued.

“Oh, he’s on his way. Never been a great timekeeper, even on date night.” They answered, giving the impression they weren’t too pleased about their husband’s lack of punctuality.

“You’ve come to my humble establishment for date night? I’m touched, really. That drink is on the house.”

“You’re too kind, old friend.”

We carried on in silence for a few moments, Life slowly sipping from their ale as I wiped down the bartop. Never enter a ‘Who can spill the most alcohol whilst still getting the most drunk’ competition with a Demon. They are unnaturally good at that. 

“Sorry I’m late, darling. There was a war in the Southern continents today, had to make sure that all went as it was meant to. I haven’t the foggiest why I’m explaining this to you, you know how it works. Sorry again, darling, really.” a voice shouted from the doorway, followed by the pumpkin-headed man it belonged to.

He was as imposing as his spouse, just in a very different way. He also donned a bespoke leather suit, but his was as dark as the depths of Crimson Hill. His eyes, too, were searing flames that burned hotter than the heart of a dying star. Locking your gaze with his fills your soul with a certain dread as if you had just opened a letter that told you exactly when and where you were going to die. He was, and always will be, Death.

Death hurriedly walked over to Life, kissed them on the cheek and sat atop the adjacent stool. I handed him his drink and the conversation began again.

“Sorry again for being late, love. Won’t happen again. Oh, thank you very much for the drink, Barman. Really needed it after a day like this.”

“Oh, of course it won’t. I believe you, dear.” Life responded, a hint of sarcasm present in their voice.

“Anytime, Death.” I chimed in.

“So,” Death started, “how was your day, honey?”

“Nothing too interesting dear. Oh, I had to see about a couple in Ravenscar who were having trouble conceiving. Normally I wouldn't have paid it much mind, but there was that tragic loss in their family last week and the numbers were a bit off. Was the least I could do, really.” Life responded, forlornly. 

“Oh yes, of course. The nephew succumbed to that pesky plague making the rounds, didn’t he? Poor sod, didn’t expect to see that one across for at least a few decades. Just the way it had to be, though,” Death started, “although I am terribly proud of you for catching that, dear. Just goes to show how great you are at what you do.”

“Thank you, my love. I do so appreciate it. Sometimes it gets to me when things like this slip by our notice, makes me feel like I could be doing more…” they murmured.

“Hey now, none of that. We do the best we can and the world keeps spinning because of it. No getting down on yourself. It all works out in the end, love. No point in getting down on yourself.” Death assured them.

“I know, I know. Thank you for the support.” Life responded, perking up.

“I’ve had your back since the dust settled, and I’ll have it until the last mountain crumbles. I love you, Life.” Death responded, passionately.

“I love you too, Death.” They responded, with equal passion burning in their eyes.

They shared a brief, yet tender embrace and then proceeded to chat away for a while. Eventually, they finished their drinks and I made them another as the conversation dulled. Determined to enjoy the company of these besotted immortals for at least a few drinks more, I posited a question,

“So, Life. Death. I’ve always wondered, you’ve been here since the dawn of the world. How exactly are you… here?”

“Oh. Well, you see, err well. Alright, barman, I’ll level with you. I don’t really know.” Death answered, baffled.

“Well, there isn’t much to know really. We have always been. Since the first birth, we have been here. We weren’t born ourselves, and we won’t leave this world until this world is no more. There’s not much ‘exactly’ about it.” Life chimed in, self-assuredly.

“Yes, what they said.” Death added.

I handed them their drinks as I formulated a response. To be frank, this answer confused me. I, myself, have been around for a long time. Probably as long as there has been Limbo. But, I do think I was born. I can probably die, too. Although, I can’t say I have a burning desire to find out how true that is. At last, I responded,

“I see. That’s interesting, I suppose. It’s certainly something, at least.”

“Are you not pleased with your answer, Bartender?” Death questioned.

“I just expected… well I don’t know what I expected? That seems underwhelming, I suppose.”

“Underwhelming? Bartender, we aren’t your regular customers. We aren’t self-absorbed Gods, nor are we scheming little Demons. We definitely aren’t lost mortals. We are primordials, we are ancients. We are the tangible and the untouchable. We are exactly what we are. If you are underwhelmed then you are really disproving the age-old stereotype of bartenders being wise and trustworthy.” Life retorted.

“Now that's what I was looking for! That was intense.” I answered, excitedly.

“You’re a rather simple man, aren’t you?” Death asked.

“I run a bar in the space between spaces, I aren’t responsible for maintaining the balance of all there is in our world. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a bit of excitement.” I answered.

“No no, certainly not.” Death chuckled.

The couple went back to chatting between themselves as I tended to my remaining customers. After a while, the last Demons went back to the Sixth Circle and there was nobody in The Wayside but Life, Death and I. My next question may have been a touch uncouth, but I rarely got to see some of my more interesting customers. I was determined to make this evening an interesting one.

“Ok, so. I have another question if you don’t mind?” I asked, nervously.

“As long as the ale keeps flowing, ask away my good sir” Death responded in good humour.

“Right, well. Maybe a bit of a confusing one but, Life. You often refer to Death as your husband, but I’ve never heard Death call you his wife. Why is that?” 

“That’s an easy one. I’m not his wife. I’m his partner, his love, his other half. I’m also his spouse. But I am not his wife. I don’t conform to your rather simple notions of gender, they bore me.” Life answered, plainly.

“But,” I started, confused, “Death is a man?”

“You’re damn right I’m a man. My darling love over here can be whatever they want to be, doesn’t bother me. But I am most definitely a man. Well, beyond my more prominent identity as a Primordial Being responsible for maintaining the balance in our world.” Death declared, proudly.

“That all seems incredibly arbitrary.” I responded, puzzled.

“I’m sure it might to you. Please do remember, though. We have been around for a lot longer than you. We know a lot more than you. To us, you are nought but a child. What you deem arbitrary does not really matter, does it?” Life added, sternly.

“N-no. No, it does not. Last call?” I asked through a cough.

“Please.” Death replied with a wry smile.

I prepared their last drinks in a state of solemn reflection. They were right. Who was I to question them? I tend to the bar. I watch over wayward souls and console depressed Hellians. I was in no position to imply there was something askew about the way they are. I had to apologise, and so as I passed them one last round I began to speak,

“Death, Life. I just wanted to apologise for-”

“No no, my boy. Stop right there. You’ve given us a night away from the burdens of maintaining a system we never designed. You spoke to us like we were any old customer, not as if we’re powerful monsters who could crush you with a glance. We appreciate your candour and we encourage your curiosity. Never be sorry for doing the job you’re here to do. We never are.” Death cut in, calmly.

“I see. Thank you.” I responded in turn.

The night pressed on a while longer. They spoke between themselves, chuckling and embracing as if they were freshly minted love birds and I watched, in awe of their unapologetic authenticity. I thanked them for their patronage as they got up to leave and in response, they thanked me for my hospitality. I closed down The Wayside that night, with a smile on my face and a level of contentment I had long since forgotten.

I run a bar in Limbo. Every night, I open my doors and serve customers from all planes of existence. Some of them are Gods, others are Demons. Sometimes, I even serve wayward souls who fled their bodies on the brink of their demise. Every now and then, a Primordial Being from the dawn of time will come to my bar with their partner- for date night. When they do, I learn more about my own place in this world than centuries of lived experience could ever teach me. 

Until next time folks, always remember that the drinks are on me here at The Wayside.

This story was distributed into the Ether Space by The Bartender at The Wayside, Limbo’s premier (and only) Tavern.