H – Heck in a Handbasket

H – Heck in a Handbasket

Wallace and his wife, Eileen, were walking in the park one day. What had started out as a nice sunny day suddenly became cloudy, and it began to sprinkle. 

They had been married for over twenty years, but those years weren’t the happiest in their lives. Wallace and Eileen may have loved each other at one time, but recently, their conversations always ended in arguments. Today was no different. 

“Did you bring the umbrella?” Eileen asked. 

“Why should I have brought an umbrella? It was sunny outside.” was Wallace’s reply. 

Eileen was quick to respond, “I told you it might rain! You never listen to me.”

Wallace replied, “I would listen to you if you had something to say.”

This conversation was getting slightly more animated than usual and went on for a few more minutes when Eileen decided she had enough.

“You can go to HECK!” she screamed at Wallace, which was not exactly the word she was thinking of saying, but considering they were in a public park, she showed some control. 

Wallace was quick with his answer and controlled himself as well: “If anyone in our family is going to HECK, it’s you, not me!”

The rest of the day was a blur to them. They hadn’t noticed a strange-looking old man sitting on a bench near where they were arguing. After overhearing their comments to each other, a playful smile appeared on his face. He got up, walked between them, excusing himself, and uttered a few unintelligible words. 

They paid little attention to the man as he walked past, so they had no inkling of what he had said, not that they would have understood anyway. But, had they paid attention, they might have recognized the word “Heck.”

Ten years passed. Wallace and Eileen continued to live together as their children grew up. Wallace was 78 when he passed away. 

The funeral was short, and the speeches of remembrance from family and friends were also. Wallace was peacefully laid to rest in the family plot. And life went on. 

Eileen lived for another fourteen years. Her funeral was also brief. Friends and family attended, and her children and grandchildren delivered speeches of remembrance. She, too, was peacefully laid to rest in the family plot next to Wallace’s grave. And for the rest of the world, life went on. 

Eileen found herself in a marketplace. She looked around, and all she could see was emptiness, no people. It was like she was part of something, but not sure what it was. Looking out, she could clearly see the marketplace. There were different stalls, each containing some items to sell. Some were fruit stands. Some were gaming stalls. Some stalls had flowers arranged in beautiful bouquets. Some had lots of colored and varied yarn, with beautifully knitted and crocheted apparel samples. There was a gated area with lots of animals and other living creatures.

“It’s about time you got here,” said a familiar voice slightly below her position. 

“Wallace,” she said, “Is that you?”

“Who else would it be,” was his reply. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about you while I was gone. I missed you.”

Considering how tainted her memories were, this was a shocking revelation to Eileen. “Where are we? And how are we here? You died 14 years ago?”

“As did you two days ago,” was his response. “As I understand it, we are exactly where we said we would be.

“What?”

“When you can manage it, try to twist around and look up over this enclosure we’re in,”  said Wallace.

It took a moment for Eileen to realize she did not have human form. She could hear things going on in the marketplace and see everything around her: behind her, in front of her, above and below, inside and outside. Looking opposite the market she noticed that she was in an enclosure made up of woven fiber, possibly of reeds or plant material. She also became aware that she was part of that fiber. Following Wallace’s suggestion, she looked above her at a sign that read. “Heck’s Baskets. They’ll hold all your precious possessions. They last forever.” Eileen was stunned. 

“As I said,” Wallace spoke out a few woven fibers below her, “I’ve had time to think about you and what you meant to me.  This basket is ours. Granted, there are some flaws in its design, but on the whole, it is a strong, well put together, and meant for the two of us.” 

“But why? And how?”

“I believe it had to do with a discussion we were having in a park some twenty-four years ago. All I can say is that I’m glad we used the language we did that day. As I recall, we debated who would go to heck when they died and who wouldn’t. It turns out we both told the truth.”

Eileen thought a while about what Wallace had said. As she did, vivid memories of their life together flooded her mind. Her feelings and resentment toward Wallace began to change. She began to relish the years when they first met. As those affections flourished, she could see and feel the basket she was part of growing. 

Wallace also felt the change. Instead of being a separate strand in the basket, his position moved closer to Eileen’s until they were directly connected. 

Somewhere in a park sat a strange-looking old man. And he smiled.