The Final Judgement

Jayden woke up in a queue. “What’s going on?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Everyone looked weird – faded. What had he taken?

“Hi there.” Came a perky voice to his right.

Jayden jumped, as he caught sight of her. “You-you're a snake. You, you have a snake head.”

“Yes, I do.” She said with a grin and pressed a glass of water into his hand, the rest of her body was humanoid only bright blue, with a scattering of tiny spots that looked like stars. “My name is Qebhet but you can call me Q if you’d like.”

“T-thanks Q.” He stuttered, not sure if he should be drinking anything she gave him and wondering how he could be having such a bizarre dream. He was sure he hadn’t taken anything, then again, he really couldn’t remember.

“It’s not a dream.” She said, matter-of-factly. “And you’re not inebriated if that’s what you were wondering.”

“Inebri- what.” He mumbled, still rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Inebriated.” She repeated, “Under the influence of alcohol or drugs. You’re not inebriated, in fact, your dead sober.” She let out a little giggle.

When Jayden just stood there, she quickly apologised. “Sorry, my sisters say I have such a morbid sense of humour. But I think it just comes with the territory. You soothe the souls of the dead for a few centuries and see how you act.”

“Wait, the souls of the dead?” Jayden repeated; suddenly alarmed.

“Oh, silly me.” Q said, “I’m acting like a total amateur.” She giggled, “So you’re dead.”

“What?” Jayden repeated, sleepiness cleared and heart beating hard in his chest. “No, no I’m not.”

“Oh dear, you look like you need another drink of water.” She said, and his cup suddenly refilled. He hadn’t even realised he’d drained it. He sipped it, letting the cool water run down his throat.

“Better?” She smiled.

“A little,” he gulped.

The queue had been moving without him noticing, and Jayden realised that soon he’d be in the front. “What are we queuing for?” He asked.

“To Enter the Hall of Truth.” She said. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Today you’re going to have your heart weighed by Osiris.”

Jayden’s eyes widened. He knew who Osiris was. He hadn’t paid much attention to Sito’s – his grandmother’s - lecturers, but he knew enough, to know who he was. “I’m in the Underworld.” He said.

“Yes, dear,” Q said like he should’ve figured it out already. He was about to ask more questions when suddenly he was at the front of the line, and a man with a dog’s head was escorting him into the hall.

“Good luck, pumpkin.” Q called, “Hope you don’t get eaten.” Jayden swallowed, unsure what that was about, and certainly not wanting to find out.

“You’re Anubis, aren’t you,” Jayden said, to the dog man, trying to distract himself. On any other occasion, he would have felt he deserved a gold star for remembering. Anubis didn’t respond. He just glared at him with those otherworldly dog eyes. Jayden missed Q already.

The hall they entered was grand; with huge limestone walls that had etchings carved into the sides. Pictures and hieroglyphs he couldn’t read. There were rows of chairs on either side of the room filled with an array of animal-headed men and women. Birds and dogs and leopards and a whole manner of other beasts. Jurors, he realised. No, judges. 42 judges. Sito’s stories were coming back to him now.

In the heart of the room was a bright gold scale. One side held the largest feather he’d ever seen. It was white and silver and glowed faintly in the dim light of the hall. A man with an ibis head: Thoth and a woman with feathers coming out of her head, stood beside it. Jayden couldn’t remember who she was.

Behind the scale, lay a great throne where a green man with a long beard sat: Osiris.

“What’s with the alligator?” Jayden asked, noticing the green beast sat to Osiris’ right.

“Amut,” Anubis responded, in a deep earthy voice. The alligator’s mouth snapped in agitation. Jayden gulped; realising what Q had meant about being eaten.

“Jayden Carr.” Osiris’s voice boomed.

He swallowed. “Yes,”

“You have entered the land of the underworld. You will stand trial here, in the Hall of Truth. Here you must confess your sins, and have your heart weighed against the feather of truth. If we find your heart to be lighter than the feather, you will enter the Field of Reeds. And live out your days in paradise; never hungry or in pain. But,” Osiris paused, “Should you find your heart to be heavy with guilt and sin and lies, it shall be devoured by Amut.” The alligator snapped hungrily, “And you shall cease to exist.” Jayden swallowed. “Do you understand, the way the trial works?” Osiris demanded.

Jayden didn’t want to ask what they meant by weighing his heart, and simply hoped that it would remain firmly in his chest. “Yes,” Jayden nodded meekly.

“Very well, now confess your sins.” Osiris said, banging his staff on the floor.

Before Jayden had a chance to think, his mouth opened and he was blurting out every wrong thing he’d ever done, since he could remember, from cutting the hair of his sister’s barbie doll to graffitiing the side of the school one night to stealing whiskey from the local bottle shop. Until finally, he came to the night of his death.

It came back to him with sharp clarity. He and his friends had - should we say- borrowed a car from his next-door neighbour and taken it out for a spin.

He’d been riding shotgun when they’d started hearing sirens. His mate had accelerated, but the roads were slippery. He’d lost control of the car, and they’d slipped and crashed. He wasn’t sure what they’d crashed into, a house maybe? It had all happened so quickly.

“I confess to helping steal a car, an act which led to the death of Beth Abrams. She was asleep when we crashed into the side of her home.” He said at last. He felt himself go cold with the realisation. Someone had died because of what he and his friends had done. They were killers.

Osiris nodded when he’d finally finished. His face gave no indication of how he felt about Jayden’s sins. If they were any better or worse than what he’d heard in other trials.

It was the judges on either side of the room that started to pipe up. “He’s a killer.” One called. “He’s a child,” shouted another. “He didn’t mean for the girl to die.” “Doesn’t make her any less dead,” Another responded. “He wasn’t in the driver’s seat.” “He might as well have been.” Back and forth the debate went, until Osiris finally erupted, “Silence.” The room went dead quiet.

“Now child,” Osiris repeated gently, “repeat the phrase ‘I am pure’ three times.”

Jayden didn’t question it. “I am pure. I am pure. I am pure.” He said, and suddenly let out a long breath. He felt his chest lighten as every sin was purged from his body. He was as bare and guiltless as he’d once been as a child. Sweet bliss! He hadn’t realised how heavy he’d felt – how...

His eyes widened. Held in Osiris’s hand was a rapidly beating heart. Panicked, he glanced down at his chest, but there were no scratches on him. He rubbed it, self-consciously and realised he couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“I will weigh you now,” Osiris said, and began to lower Jayden’s heart onto the scale.

Thoth, the ibis-headed god cleared his throat. “A letter sir.” He said matter-of-factly, pulling a piece of paper out of his coat. “It was tucked into the boy’s coffin. Not the same as carved into the walls of his tomb but serving the same function.”

“Read it,” Osiris instructed, his hand still holding Jayden’s heart just an inch above the scale.

“Great Lord Osiris,” Thoth read, “I beg you to be merciful on behalf of my grandson.” Jayden cleared his throat. Sito.

At his core, Jayden is a good boy. As a child, he was always kind and sweet. Helping me in the garden without needing to be asked. Making me honey cakes. Taking care of his little sister.

I fear that he lost his way. The boys he fell in with, fuelled the anger in his heart. An anger that comes with being made to feel small, by others who have more than we do. Of being judged based on first glance and nothing more - assumed to be a bad kid. Because of his looks and clothes and the way he talks. Hearing the same things day in and day out, until one day he started to believe it. And he became the thing that cruel people had already assumed that he was.

His family has and always will love him, but somewhere along the way, he stopped loving himself. And no matter how much love we threw his way, it was never enough.

His life has been a series of shallow and bitter judgements made by other people, I pray that this will not be another one. I pray, Great Lord Osiris, that you will see my boy for who he is, not just what he’s felt compelled to do, to fill the void that others left.

I address my Jayden now directly. My darling boy, I hope that you know how much your Ma, sister and I love you. We miss you very much. And I think, my dear, that I will see you soon.

Jayden was crying now, tears dripping down his cheeks. But he wasn’t ashamed. This letter was the kind of thing he would have scoffed at before. Now it meant everything.

He wished he’d been kinder, more helpful, more understanding. He’d wished that he’d loved them all better. Been a better kid. He realised that regardless of what happened today, he would miss his family. That the dead grieved too.

Osiris cleared his throat, and all at once, Jayden seemed to remember where he was. That his fate still hung in the balance.

“I will weigh you now,” Osiris said as he placed the heart on the scales. Jayden closed his eyes, unable to watch. He heard the scales creak and whine until finally, they went still. And Osiris boomed, “A decision has been reached.”