The Fourth Choice

The Fourth Choice

She buried herself for warmth. The icy breeze chilled her bones and snaked up her shirt, but it was summer. She dug her bare feet into the sand, seeking the core of the earth, seeking heat. Goosebumps sent the soft fuzz of her arms alight, as if the follicles were charged by electricity.

Around her, the world was ordinary. Children were laughing and people were screaming; cameras clicked in the distance while seagulls sang their throaty song overhead. Here and now she felt at peace. She wanted to melt into the sand, for the water to wash over her and break her body down, piece by piece.

There was a tale that was told to her as a child, a tale of a devil living under the sand. If you stuck your toes too far underneath the sand, the story went, your body would start to sink — slowly. Down and down and down you would go until the sand covered your nostrils and eyes. But even though you could no longer see, you could still breathe, and somehow you weren’t afraid, for your descent to the devil was predetermined — natural.

Death is a lullaby slowly guiding you to the resting place, a cavern under the sand, the cavern of future choices. Only you could decide which path was the safest.

In one opening stood the devil; the choice most often taken. It represented sexuality, bondage, lust, drugs, a life of danger and uncertainty. In his hand he held a phallic spear.

The middle opening represented a long life. In it stood an angel dressed in black with a laurel wreath crown on its head, and an auger in its hands. If this path is chosen, it guarantees the sorrow of outliving your loved ones, but also brings great wisdom with age. The auger may be used as your defense weapon, a machine to cut through the grime and rock, to help bring light back into your world.

In the final opening stood a young androgynous child with sorrowful blue eyes; so blue they were almost clear, and luminous skin that couldn’t be described as any color. The child held no tool, but behind it you could see the tunnel extend for miles behind. The dirt was fresh and cold, and looked like it was recently dug out by a backhoe. This meant, as she was told, while it guaranteed a young death, if only you follow the tunnel, you will experience re-birth, a second chance.

She thought of her choices then as she began to sink under the earth. She thought of her lost loves, her poverty, her heartache; she must have chosen the devil, she thought. She thought of the last words her father ever spoke to her: “I’m scared to death,” he said, before the cancer took his soul.

“I must have chosen the devil,” she mused out loud. For it was told to her that before one is even born, our cosmic consciousness chooses which path we will take; alive, we know it as fate.

“There is no perfect path,” she said as her calves sank beneath the sand. “All of them, all of them have hardship, suffering, death.” The sand pressed down upon her chest and crept up her face. “But they can all also bring love,” she whispered as the sand covered her eyes and filled up her nostrils.

“I’m scared to death,” her father had said. “But I know that the love I have given and received in my life will lift me up. That is our fourth choice.”