The Tomb of One Direction

The ballerina was just 14 when she died. She had broken into a fever after an intensive series of performances for the emperor. She had been dancing for him three or four times every day for a month.

 

After she died ,the emperor declared a national day of mourning and banned dancing throughout his empire. “If my ballerina can dance no more, then nor shall any other,” he said. It caused a major recession in the entertainment industry, which resulted in the rise of illicit dance clubs and the invention of mime.

 

But the ballerina knew nothing of this ban, nor the dire consequences thereof. She found herself, as we all shall when we die, in the Tomb of One Direction.

 

Behind a desk there sat a man with clipboard.

 

“Name?” he asked, rather brashly.

 

She gave her name as requested. “Am I dead?” she asked, as the man searched the list for her name to cross off. “Only this doesn’t look like heaven.”

 

“Of course it isn’t heaven,” the man said, “it is the Tomb of One Direction.”

 

“The Tomb of One Direction?”

 

“Those passing through here may only go one way. You must pass through here on the way to heaven. It really is quite self-explanatory.”

 

“Why can’t I go straight through?”

 

“I must check that you are on the List of the Dead. We don’t want the living going to heaven, just think of the chaos they would cause. Look what they’ve done on Earth. Pah, the living.” He spat the latter words, as if they were something unpleasant in his mouth.

 

He was silent for a while, searching up and down the paper before him.

 

“Why, you’re not on the List of the Dead,” he said eventually. “You shouldn’t be in the Tomb of One Direction. How came you to this place?”

 

“I’ve no idea,” the ballerina said. “All I know is that I was dancing, then I was in a fever, then I was here.”

 

“I shall consult the Director of Lifespans. He will confirm whether you are alive.”

 

Another man arrived, also carrying a clipboard. The Keeper of the List explained the situation and the new man started perusing another sheet of paper.

 

“The Director of Lifespans is checking whether you are on the List of the Living,” he said. “It looks like there’s been a mistake. It really is most annoying. Once you’re found on the List of the Living we can send you back.”

 

It took a long time for the Director of Lifespans to search through the list and the ballerina danced to amuse herself while she was waiting.

 

“I can confirm that you are no longer on the List of the Living,” the Director of Lifespans said, eventually.

“Does that mean I can go on through to heaven,” the ballerina asked, mid-pirouette.

 

“I don’t know,” the Director of Lifespans admitted gravely. “This situation has not arisen before.”

 

“Then who does know?”

 

“We shall summon the Commune Chief of the Tomb Gate,” the Keeper of the List said. “He oversees the Tomb of One Direction.”

 

No sooner had he spoken than another man appeared. He was older, greyer, and deader than his companions. The situation was slowly explained to him and he nodded gravely.

 

“This is new,” he said.  “In all my eternity here I have never known a person neither on the List of the Living nor on the List of the Dead. It sounds like one of those new-fangled, modern ‘ideas’.”

 

“What shall we do?” asked the Keeper of the List, aware that a queue was forming outside the Tomb of One Direction, leaving souls adrift. Left unattended they would return to the land of the living as ghosts, ghouls, and worse.

 

“I do not know,” the Commune Chief of the Tomb Gate admitted, “it is beyond my knowledge. I must summon up the Earl of the Tomb.”

 

“The Earl of the Tomb? But He hasn’t been summoned in a thousand, nay three thousand years.”

 

“But summon Him I must.” As he spoke another man appeared, carrying nothing bar the cloak he wore. The Commune Chief of the Tomb Gate explained the situation to Him.

 

“There is nothing to be done.” The Earl of the Tomb concluded. “The girl may not advance to heaven. She is not on the List of the Dead.”

“Does that mean I have to go back?” the ballerina asked, hopefully.

 

Go back? Go back? Are you insane? You are no longer on the List of the Living, of course you cannot go back.”

 

“But if I cannot go back and I cannot go forward, where shall I go?”

 

 

“Ah,” said the Earl of the Tomb, “that I do not know. Honestly, you bombard me with questions, I have things to do. I am the Earl of the Tomb you know.”

 

So saying the man left, muttering to himself.

 

“You must wait here,” the Commune Chief of the Tomb Gate told the girl.

 

“Wait here? What for? How long?”

 

“Until your name appears on the List of the Dead.”

“But I’m not on the List of the Dead. Your friend said.”

 

“Not now, no, but the List of the Dead is constantly updated, as you might imagine. When your name appears you may go through, until then you must wait.”

 

“Well if I must stay here then I shall perform a dance for the newly deceased, to welcome them as they journey through to heaven. That way my time here will not be wasted by ticking clipboards or checking lists.”

 

So saying the ballerina began to dance, a dance that captured both the sadness of death, and the glory of heaven, movements so perfect that many a mortal soul has delayed his entrance to heaven, to see one final pirouette before moving on.

 

She still dances, to this very day. Which is why the Maiden of Death, as she is now known, will dance for you when it is your hour, such a dance as you have never seen, nor will see again. Beauty is not strong enough a word to describe her performance, it is a sight that contains more than life itself.

 

Remember to pay her back, as you pass, by asking the Keeper of the List to check, one more time, that her name has not appeared on the List of the Dead.