In a spacious office that towers above the azure sky—so high that you could reach out and tickle the clouds—there sat a grand, intricately curved wooden desk, surrounded by statues and paintings of angels and cherubs. The tranquility was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of a phone, its sound echoing through the lavishly decorated halls.
At the conference table of the Twilight's conference room, Capt. Chris, his first officer, and the Chief of Personnel sat in tense silence, their eyes fixated on the speakerphone in the center, waiting for someone to answer. Occasionally, they would glance at Cecilia, who squirmed under their scrutiny, her gaze fixed on the floor as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers. "Hello? You've reached the office of Triple-A. This is his secretary; how can I help you?" came a high-pitched voice from the receiver.
"This is Captain Chris of the Twilight, and I need to talk to your boss—like, right now!" Chris growled, his tone as subtle as a sledgehammer.
"Oh, it's you," the secretary replied, her annoyance palpable. "Triple A is busy in a meeting. Want to leave a message?"
Chris leaped to his feet, slamming his hand on the desk with a bang that made everyone jump. "I said NOW!" His voice boomed through the conference room. "Listen here, pencil neck! I've got a situation that your boss needs to sort out, so get him on the phone or I'll turn you into a pretzel!" Chief Bustamante and Chief Murillo exchanged awkward gestures, trying to signal the captain to dial it down a notch.
"I'm sorry, but you have to wait for their meeting to be over; you can stay on the line if you'd like," the shrill voice calmly explained.
"You listen here; I have a living human being bound to the ship. I want him to unbind her right NOW!" Chris yelled over the speaker
"A human bound to the Twilight? That's impossible, a living human being could not see or board the barge of the dead, let alone get bound to it," The secretary protested, the pitch of her voice staying the same.
"Then what do I have here? A lost cat with a penchant for pink?" Cecilia's head shot up, her eyebrows raised, surprised by how she was described.
"I'll…I'll inform Triple-A right away." The call was then abruptly disconnected, as evidenced by a continuous tone.
"Well, it seemed like the big boss is coming over, I'll just mosey out alone now, so you guys can fix things out," Cecilia nervously said, excusing herself and standing up, determined to disembark from the ship.
"Hey, pink! Sit down and shut up!" Chris barked, prompting her to sit back down
"How rude, I have a name, you know," she said under her breath. Chris shot her a sideways glance.
The doors of the conference room swung open, and in came a middle-aged man, wearing a suit and tie, tall and burly. His face was filled with age lines that hinted at a well of wisdom hidden beneath his bearded face. Chief Bustamante and Murillo stood up and bowed to the man, offering him a seat. "So, where is this human you speak of?" he looked around the room until his eyes landed on Cecilia. "Hello there, little girl, I guess it is you then?" he beamed at the human seated meekly on his right.
"Do you know me? Do I know you?" she asked, puzzled by how she was greeted.
"I am an angel child; I know every human being. Where are my manners? I am the Angel of Death, Archangel Azrael. But you can call me Triple-A," he courteously said, introducing himself.
Cecilia's hand flew to her mouth, unable to believe that she was in the presence of an angel and an archangel to boot. "Oh my…really? Can I see your wings?"
Triple-A smiled at her and was about to stand up, but Chris halted him. "Let's focus on the situation at hand, shall we?"
Triple-A and Cecilia chimed in at the same time, "Party pooper." Chris only scoffed at the remark.
"Tell me, child, have you agreed to the post given to you?" The archangel probed, wanting to know the severity of the situation.
Chief Murillo chimed in, "She agreed to be the new singer of the Gold Deck, and we shook on it."
Triple-A rubbed his beard, shook his head, and tutted, "Then she is truly bound to the ship." He paused and sighed.
"Uhm, excuse me, but what does it mean to be bound to the ship?" Cecilia curiously asked, wondering what the big deal "And why do you need a boat to transport the ghosts into the afterlife?"
Triple-A turned to the human. "Well, dear, at the end of a human's existence, their soul separates from their mortal bodies and must return to Kaginhawaan so they can be born again. The waters of the Kasanaan River are the veil that separates the world of the living and the realm of the spirits. Life and death do not exist there, only oblivion." he then gestures to one of the chiefs, "Being bound to the ship means a soul can delay their return to Kaginhawaan to work on the Twilight."
"Why would a spirit work? What would they need the money for?" she curiously asked, forgetting the fact that there is a different currency aboard the Twilight.
Triple-A chuckled at the question, "Humans, so attached to a piece of paper. The crew of the Twilight are not paid with paper, but with karma." he then gestured for one of the chiefs to explain.
Chief Bustamante cleared his throat. "You see, Ms. Bermudez, we gain good karma working here; simply put, we are paid with good fortunes. That good fortune is translated as good luck, good decisions, and good opportunities for our families back in the world of the living."
Capt. Chris, who was running out of patience, interjected, "While this has been wonderfully educational and all. Can we focus on the issue at hand and unbind this human from my ship?"
Triple-A cleared his throat while throwing a scoff in Chris' direction. "I cannot unbind her." The reply merited shocked expressions from everyone present.
"What? I can't leave this ship?" Panic rises in Cecilia's mind, her breath quickens, and her heart pounds in her chest.
Chris forcibly swiveled the Triple-A's chair so that he faced him. "What do you mean you can't?" he snarled at the Archangel. "You can't or you won't?" Silence crept into the room; no one dared to speak. All eyes were on their Captain, shocked at his insolence and lack of respect for the heavenly being.
Triple-A smiled at the Captain and gently placed a hand on his shoulders. "Chris, I can tell you this much," the Archangel gently spoke his words, "The tether that binds her to the Twilight is woven from threads unseen, yet fragile to those who dare to unravel fate's design. Freedom is a path walked not alone, but in the convergence of two souls—one burdened by chains of duty, the other by shadows of the unseen. When their wills entwine and purpose aligns, the curse may shatter, and the captive may rise. But beware—the journey demands sacrifice, trust, and the courage to face what lies beyond the veil. Only together can the cycle break, and only then will the light find its way through eternal night."
"You and your damn riddles," Chris grabbed his head, ruffling his well-combed hair, "Can't you just for once give me a straight answer?"
Triple-A stood from his chair and buttoned his coat. "That is the straight answer," he leaned forward and whispered something to the captain. Afterward, he turned to exit the room. "Oh, and Chris…give her a tour of the ship."
"I'll have Chief Bustamante take her around the ship." his tone was exasperated from the problem that was not solved
Triple-A shook his head, "You do it, that's an order." he grinned at the captain before exiting the room.
Chris scratched his head and glanced at his officers. "The two of you go back to your posts!" he then glanced at Cecilia. "You, Pink! Follow me"
Cecilia crossed her arms and refused to budge from her chair. "Are you deaf? I said Follow me…NOW!"
Something inside her snapped. She glared at Chris, her chin trembling, followed by tears, and then, without warning, she cried. Bawling over for being shouted at, "Why do you keep yelling? Do you think we're all deaf here?" Cecilia buried her face in her hands and wailed like a child who had been scolded harshly.
Chris was dumbfounded by her reaction. "Are you seriously crying right now?" he slapped his forehead with his hand. He accidentally glanced at Chief Bustamante. The chief crossed his arms over his chest and gestured with his head to apologize to the crying human.
"Why would I apologize? If she can't handle being yelled at, that's her problem." Chris turned his back on all the drama.
Chief Bustamante, with his arms crossed over his chest, blocked the exit. "What?" Chris asked, irritation was slowly creeping into his mind. The chief turned the captain around and nudged him toward the crying Cecilia.
Chris gritted his teeth, and finally, he let out a sigh. "Will you stop crying if I say that I won't yell at you anymore?" But he quickly followed up with, "As long as you don't give me a reason."
Cecilia dried her tears. She raised her head. "You promise?" Chris turned his head away as he frowned and discreetly grunted at what he thought was a childish display.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to Cecilia again, "I promise I won't yell at you, as long as you don't give me a reason to yell at you."
Though sobbing, Cecilia smiled and said, "Okay." She stood up in front of the captain. "So how about that tour?"
Chris let out a deep sigh. "Come on," he said, his tone dripping with disbelief at the fact that he was giving a tour of the ship to a human. He stepped out of the conference room with a radiant Cecilia trailing behind him.
"I trust you know that I'm the captain of this ship, which means my word is law. You'll adhere to everything I say, got it? If I don't want you to speak, you won't." He glanced back at Cecilia, who playfully mimed zipping her lips. "You will call me Captain, and I'll name you whatever I like." Just as Cecilia was about to object, the captain silenced her with a stern finger gesture.
Continuing on the tour, he began his explanation, "The Twilight is a luxury liner that crosses the souls of the dead to the afterlife, to Kaginhawaan. There the soul rests while the traces of its former life are erased, and then it reincarnates."
"The ship can accommodate an infinite number of souls. The ship is divided into five distinct decks." The captain descended a set of stairs to the bowels of the ship. "We will begin here, in the engine deck!"
Cecilia's eyes grew wide as she realized she hadn't merely entered a room; she had emerged into a blistering wasteland. Her gaze swept across the endless sea of sand, where figures toiled, shoveling heaps of black tar-like substances into monstrous furnaces that belched fire. Suddenly, she collided with a woman laboring nearby, and a chill ran down her spine—the woman was devoid of eyes, ears, or a mouth, her face reduced to a mere husk. A startled squeal escaped Cecilia as she instinctively clutched Chris's arm. "What... what are those creatures?"
Chris gently pried her fingers from his arm. "That is a condemned soul. What you see is your interpretation of the engine room, but for the damned souls, it takes the form of their deepest fears and guilt. Each moment they linger is a torment; they don't need their senses in this place, only their suffering."
He turned to her. "This is what we refer to as hell! Here, the condemned passengers feed the furnaces with their guilt, which in turn powers the ship." Chris exited the engine room, and she quickly followed him, eager to leave.
Ascending the staircase, they found themselves in a seemingly boundless, decaying mansion. The air hung heavy with the stench of sorrow and unfulfilled aspirations, and the inhabitants here bore the weight of fatigue, caught in the relentless battle between light and darkness.
"Behold the gray deck." With every step Chris took, the floorboards emitted a ghostly creak. "These are the souls ensnared in moral uncertainty," he pointed out, indicating the wandering spirits that drifted aimlessly. "This is a sanctuary for contemplation; if they truly repent, they may ascend. But those who stubbornly defend their actions will find themselves devoured by the engine room's maw."
Cecilia felt a parched sensation in her throat. "Oh goodness, perhaps we should venture to the next deck?" she urged, eager to escape the grim surroundings.
The captain's smirk hinted at mischief lurking in his gaze. "Then let us move on to the next deck, a place that occasionally sends a chill racing down my spine."
As they emerged from the dreary gray deck, Cecilia felt a palpable shift in the air. The stairs creaked softly beneath their feet, leading them to the gold deck, a realm that promised a stark contrast to the somber surroundings they had just left.
"This is the Gold deck," Chris said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "This area is reserved for the pious souls. Only those who led pure lives are allowed here."
She marveled at the serene scene before her: groups of people gathered at beautifully set tables, feasting on an array of mouth-watering dishes. The aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making her stomach rumble.
"Look at them," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They seem so... happy."
Chris glanced around, his stoic expression unchanging. "Happiness is a fleeting illusion," he replied coolly.
But Cecilia couldn't help but smile at the sight of friends playing games, sharing stories, and reveling in each other's company. "It's beautiful, Captain," she countered, her heart swelling with the warmth of the moment. "I think everyone deserves a place like this."
Chris crossed his arms over his chest. "It's hideous, nothing but childish make-believe."
Cecilia spun on her heels, facing the captain. "What is wrong with you? Are you really that miserable and devoid of any warmth that even perceiving happiness from other people irks you to no end?"