It’s dusk in Ang Daanan. The soft evening glow filters through the forest canopy, scattering thin patches of light across fallen autumnal leaves, verdant moss, and small whitecap mushrooms. Many people come to this forest, seeking a better place on the other side. None who pass through ever return; it is a crossing, not a journey. Sometimes—and I stress that this is quite rare—someone turns right back around before reaching the river and returns home. They give up the uncertain paradise for the terrible status quo. 
      The forest is quiet; no birds chirp, no wolves howl. But, as I walk over the slick earth, the interaction between the untamed foliage and my shoeless feet creates a crisp crunching sound. The whistling wind rustles the leaves and chills my sopping wet, unprepared body. 
      I suppose this is why we shouldn’t uproot our lives on impulse. The doctor gave me sedatives to help deal with my anxiety and one might think that those, combined with all the alcohol I drank would have dulled my hysteria, but no. I’d dulled my body and my inhibitions but not my longing. Truly, even if I could turn the clock back, I would run off into the setting sun a thousand times over. 
      My hometown is a wretched place. Everyone knew that place was hell: air choked with soot, people tossed from their homes, streets crawling with soldiers, children dying of hunger; no one cares. It was not a place anyone ever chose to live in. It was just the place we were born in. And I am exhausted. Everyone I loved had already made the trek through Ang Daanan. I’d been thinking about it for a long time; perhaps it was earlier than planned, but I finally felt ready to join them. 
      I stumble around while listening to the sound of the forest, hoping to find the man set to lead me through this place. The forest of Ang Daanan is an odd, maze-like place, with jade vines, jasmine, and silverleaf shrub creating a mishmash of colors that disorient the senses and obscure any semblance of a beaten path. Having a guide is necessary if you ever hope to find your destination. So I hired a man to take me through the forests, valleys, and rivers of Ang Daanan to the kingdom of freedom, the Kingdom of Langit. A place much better than where I am from. A place where there will be no disappointment, shame, or fear -- as long as I can find my guide. 
      “Diyos…” I call repeatedly under my breath. 
      Please save me Diyos. I don’t want to be alone. 
      Just as I am about to turn back to wait at the forest’s edge, I see a strong blue light cut through the darkness. It flickers a bit. I turn to find the source is a lantern and see a kind looking older woman approach me. She wears a long cloak, which drags on the ground, with sleeves that engulf even her hands. But her hood is down, revealing to me her pure white hair and dignified gaze. While her long face is scarred with jagged marks giving depth to her pale skin, I am still inclined to describe her as beautiful. She smiles at me, creating dimples in her gaunt but rosy cheeks. Although one of her eyes appears crystallized, I feel as though she can see me perfectly. She walks towards me methodically, her body supported by her lantern staff. 
      “Odesa,” her soft, low voice calls out to me with certainty. She gestures eastward with her wooden staff, causing the lantern to sway with the motion, before saying “it’s this way”
      “Are you who will take me through Ang Daanan?”
      “Yes. You may call me Giya.” As though she could see the hesitation on my face, she continued, “Many people travel through Ang Daanan to the Kingdom of Langit, Diyos can’t personally guide every one of them. But please don’t feel too disappointed. I won’t be the only one helping you along this journey.” 
      Before I can ask her what she means, particles of blue light from her lantern take shape and, suddenly, my leg is grasped by a walking teddy bear. And just like that, the chill, the exhaustion, the pain, and the wetness vanishes from my body. 
      A spirit animal? I think. My mind reels at the unexpectedness of it all. Until now I had never seen a spirit animal in person nor felt this comfort.
      “His name is Umamo. He will help you feel comfortable. My gift to you.”
      “This is generous. Does everyone entering Langit receive such a gift?” I ask stiffly.
      “Only the ones I like,” Giya says with a wink. 
      I pick up Umamo and hold him in my arms before hurrying over to Giya’s side and allowing her to lead me through the brush. She’s right, I don’t know what will happen if we stay here for too long. No humans have been able to settle down here. In fact, no animals call this place home either. Perhaps there is something in the air which shoos all fauna away.
      Giya’s lantern sways ahead of me as we push through the thicket, the silverleaf shrubs snagging at my exposed legs, as though the forest itself wants me to turn back. Umamo, nestled in my arms, radiates a steady warmth that pushes away the damp chill clinging to my skin and heals the scrapes and cuts that form on my body. I keep getting distracted by our surroundings and veering off the path, but Giya’s patient hand always beckons me back. 
      Soon, the undergrowth parts and reveals a wide river and the night sky, forcing me to stop at the bank, as I need to take in this scene. The sparkling stars shine boldly against the backdrop of swirling deep blues and purples. The shimmering light is reflected back by the clear river water. The slow and dull ripples make them dance, but even the stars in the sky sway, as though I am viewing them from beneath the water.
      I shift my gaze away from the landscape and towards where Giya is leading me. I see a narrow wooden boat, hull worn smooth with age, waiting at the shore. Resting against the oar is a tall, toned man with weathered hands and eyes like the dark water. He lifts his chin in greeting but says nothing.
      “This is my brother,” Giya says proudly, planting her staff in the mud before fastening her lantern to the bow of the boat. “He will take us across. The river does not yield to just anyone.” 
      In response to Giya’s giddy introduction of him, the boatman just gives another curt nod. Then he extends his hand out toward me. I reach out to take it.
      “Wait!” Giya suddenly exclaims. “Please remember, as soon as you begin your journey along the river, there is no turning back. If you wish to go home, or just need more time, this is your last chance.” 
      “Truly?”
      Giya nods. I turn to look back at the forest. The auburn leaves and jade vines, the swirling sky and silverleaf shrubs, the emptiness. I remember my family, my home, my life. All bad memories. There was fun and decadence, but it was all just distractions from the hollowness of life there. In Langit, none of that will matter. I won’t need to work till my fingers bleed each and every day. I won’t need to hate myself. I’ll be a different person in Langit.
      I take a deep breath before I reach out with my free hand to desperately clasp the boatman’s. He laughs before ushering me onto the small boat. Giya gets on and sits at the front with her lantern, facing me. The boatman pushes us into the water and jumps on. He stands behind me and looks out towards the horizon, gently leading the boat along the slow river. Along with him, I turn my attention to what’s ahead, the gray, endless, silent horizon. I squeeze Umamo just a little bit. We fall into a silence that lasts for an eternity.
      “Odesa, how much do you know about Langit?” The boatman’s voice catches me by surprise.
      “I know it’s a place where I’ll be able to exist happily and freely,” I reply. He doesn’t even try to stifle his cackle. I keep my gaze straight ahead.
      “Odesa, Langit may be at peace, but you will find no freedom or happiness there. You-”
      “But everyone I love is there! There will be community, connection, and love,” I say, cutting him off. Langit must be everything I’ve hoped for. 
      If there is no love in Langit, where would I ever be able to find it?
      “It depends on how you define those things, Odesa,” he says cryptically, stressing my name as if to remind me what it is. 
      I take in the meaning of his words and look upon Umamo’s face. His eyes beckon me to remain true to this path and keep going. 
      “Odesa, so many people would give everything to return to-”
      “Enough!” Giya demands. She looks toward her brother and continues, “Your job is only to bring the girl to Langit. Nothing else. Do not speak again.” Her stern voice forces silence.
      “No, I want to hear it. Why would anyone want to go back? Langit is a paradise.” At my words, I see Giya give an apprehensive look. “Tell me,” I reiterate, moving Umamo from my lap to my side. 
      The boatman sighs before giving in. “You are not yourself in Langit, Odesa. You will have no family, no purpose, no name. The only thing you will be able to do is sit in the stillness. Odesa, is this really what you want?” 
      His words make me feel empty. They make me feel like I want to vomit. I cannot bring myself to look at him.
      “Yeah,” I mumble. “That’s the dream I’ve fantasized about for so long. It can’t be worse than home.” I steel my resolve. I need to escape that place. It doesn’t matter where to. Umamo cuddles up against me, affirming my decision. It doesn’t matter, nothing sounds like rest, and rest sounds like mercy
      “Good. Because the second you got on this boat, there was no turning back,” Giya says.
      I squeeze Umamo a bit more and comb my hands through his soft fur. My neck suddenly feels exposed, and my lungs burn. The words which should have reassured me, I suddenly find terrifying. 
      I’m not ready yet.
      “I’m not ready yet! It’s fine, I can go back home. I implore you to take me back.” I turn to finally face the boatman. He meets my eyes but remains silent. He is pitying me. “I want to go home.”
      “You now must go to Langit. You cannot stay here, nor return,” Giya reminds me.
      “I’m not ready yet,” I repeat.
      “I know,” Giya interrupts in a cold tone. “You knew it too, deep down. I could tell with how you kept stalling. Nothing awaits you in Langit, Odesa, but it’s too late for you.”
      They won’t take me back.
      “If you knew, then why?”
      “You paid the fee. You stepped into the forest, and you boarded the boat. I’m just helping you along.” After speaking this line, she says no more. I tremble, for I see nothing reflected in her eyes. Her beautiful, shiny crystal eye. She feels nothing at all. She isn’t human.
      “Now, Odesa, do you fear it? The unknown?” The boatman asks from behind me with a hint of sadness that drips from his words. But then he too allows his voice to drift away. And I allow total silence to befall us all.
      The silence weighs heavily on me. It begins drizzling. I feel wet. And cold. I look down at Umamo, snug in my arms. His body radiates warmth. I need to hold him closer. He reminds me of how sweetly I slept in my baby blanket. He reminded me of sleep before fear ever found me. Perhaps with him by my side, it won’t be bad. Before I can allow myself to fall into this peace, I impulsively look down at Umamo’s perfectly constructed, comforting face and I realize he isn’t real. There is no such thing as a painless passing.
      “Yes. I fear it,” I admit. 
      With no time to waste, I toss a surprised Umamo back to Giya. He bursts into light and is gone. The warmth he carried vanishes with him. I stand. I can feel the sedatives like anchors in my veins, the alcohol blurring my vision. My body feels heavy, my limbs nothing but dead weights taped to my torso. The pain returns ten-fold. I am out of breath. Desperate.
      I jump. The dancing stars vanish into black teeth as the river shows its true snake-like face and bites my skin. What was once a steady stream is now a rapid. Still, I refuse to give up. I swim with all my might, yet the current drags me under. Something inside me ruptures. My body feels foreign, hollowed out. I know when the sedatives slow my pulse; the water does the rest. The current tosses me around and I have no idea which way up is, but if I keep fighting, then I know I’m going the right way. 
      I think, distantly, that this is how rot begins—not in death.
      Diyos, please save me. 
      I swim—or think I do—for what feels like hours. I’m getting out of here. Finally, my fingers feel they have touched air, and I thrust myself out of the water. 

      I gasp for air and open my eyes to meet the abrasive fluorescent lights of my bathroom and the pungent chemical smell of cleaning products. A far cry from the beauty of Ang Daanan. I drag myself out of the tub to lay on the hard tiled floor. I vomit up the water from my lungs. The kingdom of Langit may be more pleasant but I’m glad I’m here now.
      I am Odesa, and I am alive. 
      I start screaming. The sound bursts out of me raw, stranger than my own voice. It doesn’t feel like grief. It doesn’t feel like joy. It feels like something I dragged back with me from the river, the gaze of the crystallized eye. 
      I stand. I feel the room sway. I turn to the window, and I see the trees. The forest of Ang Daanan. The river.
      “I see you prefer the painful long way” Giya says while holding an annoyed Umamo.
      “Why are you here?”
      “You’ve already crossed, in all the ways that matter.” Giya meets my eyes. Her gaze will haunt me. Through life and after. She smiles.

​

God, have mercy.