Centuries ago, The Mortuary was breached.
A curious boy had gained entrance in the midst of one of the Courier’s deliveries and was found stalking the hall of preserved souls – with a camera hanging from his neck.
“What brings you here?” The courier asked.
The boy explained that he was hired by a newspaper to unveil the truth within The Mortuary.
“There’s a price for your curiosity that you can’t afford.”, the Courier warned.
He insisted that this was for the “voice of the people”, and began to send flashes of photographic light into prohibited spaces – acting decisively for the sake of the story and disregarding the consequences until his objective was complete.
But when disturbed, the dead don’t wait to deliver you.
The courier stood firmly, folded his arms, and watched The Mortuary come to life with each bolt of light that distended from the camera’s aperture. .
It was only until the boy noticed something peculiar through the shutters that he opted to lower his 35mm box of secrets.
By then, it was too late and penance was overdue.
Many have chosen to take the crooked path that leads them here.
With their notepads and Kodaks in hand to preserve the presumptive mysteries of my place of business, they want nothing more than to breach in hopes of finding the answers that give them the front page feature.
But what people like you don’t realize is that when you decide to take the crooked path that leads you here, you’ve committed your soul to deliverance, Mr. Ramsey.
Because we are the final destination – not stomping grounds for your beat reports.
It matters not if you were reporting for Zeus himself; we only concern ourselves with the dead.
If the living knocks, then they were just part of the delivery.
Just like that curious boy was, Mr. Ramsey.
Centuries later, I’m the Courier now and there’s a knock on the door.
It’s you, and you’ve committed every bit of yourself in finding a way in to appease the ones that sent you on your way here.
But there’s no need to breach, Mr. Ramsey. I’ll gladly let you in.
While you excitedly take down your reports and unravel the enigmas, I will remain still just as my forefather did, observing with folded arms with a smile on my face.
Through that door, the transaction of your soul has already been completed. The rest of the process is now the responsibility of the dead, whose transition you’ve chosen to disrespect.
According to my timepiece, your decision wasn’t actually meant to be made now.
You had many years left of playing paparazzi in you, in fact, but sacrifices had to be made to meet your deadlines, even if that meant cutting lines and jumping the gun to make the grade.
So please, do come in Mr. Ramsey, and take all the photos your sacrificed soul desires; tour our mausoleum, and pocket all the secrets you can for the voice of the people.
And don’t worry, I’ll be waiting just as still as I was before..
To send you… on your way.