“Oh, I love that lawn sculpture!”
I smiled at Barbara, and tried not to laugh. “Yes. It looks like a sculpture, doesn’t it.”
“Like a long, snake-like dragon.” She walked toward the head of it. “I mean. Look at the detail. Wow.”
All I could do was shake my head. “Barbara, Barbara, Barbara. Haven’t I explained you’re not on Earth anymore?”
That was the problem with people when they crossed over. They saw familiar sights everywhere, so they acted like everything was normal. Like it was just another Saturday visiting a neighbor. “Oh, well. If I must explain.”
I carefully guided her gaze to look straight at me. “Who am I?”
“Kevin.” There was no doubt in her response.
“How old are you.”
“I’m 83.”
“How old was Kevin when you last saw him?”
“Kevin was 24.” Barbara stared hard at me. I could see her trying to understand what it all meant.
“OK. I’m Kevin. At 24 I shot myself in the head. Remember. I’ve been dead, dead, dead since you were 25, haven’t I.”
She had this baffled look. “But…”
“Barbara. You died at 83. From old age. You had a happy life. Now, you’re here, beyond the veil. And you’re able to see so much more than you could.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means I’ve been here for 58 years, and you’ve been here for a couple of hours. That’s what it means.” I shrugged, “I’d show you what you look like in a mirror, but mirrors don’t work here.”
I held out my hands, and looked at them. “Damn, my hands look good for me being 82. Just like they did when I was 24.” I took her hands, and held them out for her to look at. “But. You’re hands don’t look like they did yesterday, do they.”
“I…”
“Face it, Barb. Those are not 83 year old hands. Not even close.”
She held them out, and studied them. “But…”
“You’re not in Kansas anymore, you know. So, you have to learn new rules.” I pointed at what she thought was a long, snake like dragon sculpture. “This? This is a lawn snake. They eat bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. You’ll find everybody has one.”
“Lawn snake?”
“Yeah. They come out at night. In daylight, they look like this,” I pointed at it. “After the sun sets, it’ll start moving again. When it does, we’ll want to be inside. Lawn snakes have damn sharp teeth.”
“Bugs?”
“Yep. They eat bugs.”
“What… Kind… Of… Bugs…”
“What kind of bugs would something this freaking huge eat?” I sighed.
“But, if I’m dead. Isn’t this heaven?”
“Yeah. There it is. That heaven crap.”
“Crap?”
“Yeah. We all teach ourselves about heaven, with no worries, and all goodie, goodie, happy, happy.”
I thought she was going to cry right then.
“It’s just the next step of life. You stay in the world you came from until you are ready to be here. Then, when it’s time, you come to this world, and have to start the next level of learning about life.”
She stared at the Lawn Snake.
“Lawn snake?”
“Yes, Barb.” I looked at the horizon. “Well, the sun’s starting to set. Time to go inside. We can watch it bug hunt from inside, where it’s safe, and it won’t hurt us.”
I thought, “Happens every time. Have to welcome a friend, and explain how everything they knew about the afterlife was totally wrong. All because of some silly dream people have of a place called heaven.”
581 words
@mysoulstears
This is written for Week 71 of Miranda Kate‘s Mid-Week Challenge. Yep, I’m a week late with it. So what. I had fun writing this. You can read about Miranda’s small fiction challenge here. Please, go read Miranda’s short tale this week, and any others that showed up. The tales are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. And many of them are amazing.
My Soul's Tears 
Love it. I love how you tackle these topics. So spot on. Thanks for coming back to this one.