Elysium is great, I guess.

I've met all the big shots, the greatest of the great. I drank tea with Joan of Arc, shook hands with Gandhi, watched a film with Anne Frank. I've even shot hoops with Perseus, the Medusa slaying legend (he asked me a lot about his namesake Percy Jackson, he didn't seem very pleased when I told him that Percy had slain Medusa when he was merely twelve years old though).

There's also all the other great people who the living world never learned of. My next door neighbor, Emily Zhang, told me she had left the living when shape shifted into a dragon to protect her comrades from a bomb. At the amusement park in Elysium, I had met Elizabeth Gillan, an eleven year old girl who drowned when she'd jumped into a rushing river to save her baby brother. Oh, there was also Esperanza Valdez, a woman who says she doesn't understand how she ended up in Elysium, but as soon as she told me her story, I could. She'd risen a son all my herself at a young age, was shunned by many for being a single mother, she worked hard for her mechanical engineering degree only to not be taken seriously when seeking for a job. She told me she lived poorly, but happily, because of her son. She reminded me an awful lot of Mrs. Jackson, Percy's mother.

Beside the amazing people, there are the residences. Oh boy do these undead home architects know how to get the job done. My mansion is a four story home full of all kinds of high tech technology that's several centuries ahead of my time. On the roof, they especially designed for me a workshop that overlooked the entire village and the ocean at a short distance. In the living room (or should it be called the dead room?) there's this mini theater that plays all the channels I watched back in the world of the living. I could watch sports games from all eras, from 600 BC to the present day. But I don't watch those much down here, instead I go to the open air arena and watch Jesse Owens race against other legends.

Though, I only ever use the television to keep up with some of my favorite shows. I can't stand watching the news coverage of the living, seeing the war being fought by my friends. Even more painful than seeing friends of mine being slaughtered? Seeing the live footage of my mother's reaction to the news of my death. Or seeing Silena's face when Percy broke the news to her. Or seeing that undeserved guilt weigh Percy down.

I shut my eyes tight and chastise myself, "Get it together. You're in Elysium, you're supposed to be partying, not lamenting the living."

But it's to no use to tell myself that.

What's the point of all these luxuries when all my friends aren't dead-not that I want them dead. I want them to live well into their nineties. I just wish time could fly a little bit faster for the dead, so the wait wouldn't be so lonesome.

With a heavy sigh, I will myself to leave my new home and walk down the boulevards and towards the shoreline a few blocks away. I try my best to ignore the booming music from John Lennon's home as I walk past and focus on the sound of the waves.

I've probably walked eight miles along the shore when the sun begins to set and I first catch sight of the body in the white chiton about a mile from where I stand. I stare at the figure from the distance and realize with a start that the person is unconscious. The waves crash against the being and the person doesn't react.

When you first show up in Elysium, you wake up in your king sized bed, surrounded by the cheerful welcoming committee...not at a shoreline.

I begin to run with all my might towards who I now recognize as a girl, fearing the waves will take her away.

Her back is to me, but my heart races when a sense of recognition washes over me. The way the girl's black hair is braided down to her slim waistline. The way the golden ropes are tied around her waist. The white chiton. I know I've seen them before.

The mystery ends when I reach her and twist her around to face me.

My heart drops.

"No," is all I manage, tears beginning to stream down my face. I repeat the word, "No."

And it's almost as if my words bring her back to life (well, you know what I mean). Her eyes snap open and her brilliant deep blue eyes reveal themselves to me.

She scrutinizes my face and finally meets my eyes. She smiles that beautiful smile that made me fall for her, "Charlie, you're alive."

Despite the tears streaking down my face, I manage a chuckle. "Not exactly."

She reaches up to my face, wiping away the wetness. "What do you mean 'not exactly,' you look more alive than ever to me."

I shake my head, not believing she's in my arms. I thought I'd never be able to do so again, since she was supposed to live on until she was ninety-seven years old, with a loving and respectful husband, three children, seven grandchildren, and eleven great grandchildren. Her home in Elysium was supposed to be for her and her husband, we couldn't have ever been more than friends when her time would come to die.

Not having the heart to explain to her that she's dead, I state instead, "You're wearing the dress you wore to our prom."

Then it dawns on her. She stands upright so suddenly she almost falls into the sand, but I catch her before she can. She pushes me away and does a three-sixty, taking in all her surroundings before facing me again.

"Oh my gods, I'm dead."

"Yeah, sorry about that," and I really am.

She brings her hand over her mouth and turns to face the horizon. I expect her to start sobbing, as many do when they first awake here, but she surprises me like she always does.

She laughs.

"Silena?"

She twists around to face me, all her mirth gone. She scowls up at me, and before I can intercept it, she has sent her fist up my nose.

"OW!" I scream, grabbing for my nose. I thought physical pain was impossible once you died, apparently that's not the case.

"How dare you died like that, you baboon!" She shrieks, trembling with rage. "You left me back there all by myself!"

A smile I can't hold back silently spreads across my face, "I am terribly sorry, Silena."

She shakes her head at me, "With what nerve did you go on exploding like that!"

I bite down on my lip, trying to stop the stubborn smile from creeping back out. "I apologize."

She plants her hands on her waist and focuses on the setting sun again.

After a minute of silence, I get the courage to ask her, "Mind explaining to me why you're here? You're still the same age."

She blushes now and avoids my gaze at all costs, "I, uh, I kind of disguised myself as Clarisse and faced the Drakon...and the Drakon, you know, killed me."

I gawk at her, "You what?"

She crosses her arms over her chest, "Desperate times call for desperate measures," Silena shoots me a look, "It's a long story."

I laugh at the smile spreading across her face, but then sober up again.

"You shouldn't be here yet, Silena."

She lifts her chin up and meets my eyes, "You shouldn't either."

And we're silent then, because it's true. We're both far too young to be in the world of the nonliving.

She slips her hand into mine and I squeeze, and she squeezes back. Just like we did back at camp.

"We might be dead, but you sure make me feel alive," I whisper, bringing my free hand up to her face.

She takes in a shuddering breath and closes her eyes, when she opens them again her smile is back, "I never told you this when we were alive, but I'm going to say it now." She grabs the hand resting on her face and holds it in hers, "I love you, Charlie."

I nod, smiling back at her, "And I love you, Silena."

She stands on her tiptoes and I lean down for our lips to meet.

And when they do, it feels eternal.