Fiction
4 min
Oliver and Eulia (Orpheus and Eurydice)
Kadence Chang
Oliver loved Eulia. Eulia loved Oliver. This was how it always would be.
The moment they met as toddlers, they became inseparable. One day at the playground, Oliver flew down the slide and knocked over Eulia, who stood at the bottom. Eulia's mom hurried over, but Oliver had already helped her up, offering apologies. Eulia brushed herself off, then took his hand and pulled him to the swings. From that moment on, they were always together.
A vague memory they both had took place at that same playground. They were 6, crouching next to the bench their mothers sat on, digging in the dirt with sticks. Oliver picked up a circle of plastic, the ring that sits around the mouth of a water bottle.
"What's this?" he asked, handing it to Eulia.
"It's a ring," she said decisively. "Here—" she handed it back to him— "for when we get married."
"Yuck," he replied, giving it back to her. "I'm not gonna marry anyone, especially not you."
Eulia started crying.
When they were 15, something changed: friendship became something more. By 16, they were truly in love. Eulia was the only one he would play his guitar and sing for. He'd play her their song, and Eulia would almost glow with happiness. She loved his music.
But by 17, Eulia was gone.
The last time Oliver saw Eulia was an August evening. She'd wanted to say goodbye before flying to visit her grandparents in California. They sat on the porch swing, Eulia wrapped in Oliver's sweatshirt, Oliver wrapped in her arms.
"I'll see you when school starts," she said softly, getting up.
"But I'll miss you," he muttered.
"It's only a few weeks," she laughed. "I'll bring you a souvenir."
"I'll see you soon?" he asked.
"Of course."
But that was a lie, because three days later, Eulia was dead. A car accident, her mom said when she called Oliver, voice shattered. She mailed him the license plate keychain Eulia had bought for him. For several days, he operated on autopilot, not speaking to anyone.
The funeral came a week later. Oliver sat in the second row, blank and unmoving as the eulogies were said. Back at home, Oliver lay on his bed, still in his suit, and finally realized that Eulia was gone. An excruciating pain overtook him, and he broke down, heaving sobs for hours. Oliver fell asleep clutching the keychain, salt tracks lining his face.
He woke up at dawn the next day, and unable to fall back asleep, he grabbed his guitar and headed to the playground. He sat on the bench that he and Eulia had carved their initials into last year. Tears streaming down his face, Oliver strummed the chords of their song.
"If she's out there, give me a sign," he whispered, praying to every god he knew.
Suddenly, he was swallowed by darkness.
Oliver opened his eyes and looked around, guitar still in his hands. All he could see was darkness, except... he turned to see a man—or, a million men? Every second, his looks shifted.
"Play me that song again," the man/men boomed, "and you can bring your love back." His voice filled Oliver with the horrible sensation that he was about to burst, each syllable pushing against his skin.
Oliver had no idea what was happening, no reason to believe any word this stranger said, every reason to run away and seek help.
But Oliver would do anything for Eulia, so he played his guitar. As soon as the final chord rang out, blinding light was everywhere. When his vision cleared, a girl stood before him.
Eulia.
He froze. How could this be? Her voice ripped him out of his state of shock.
"Oliver," she breathed. He reached out for her, but the man with a million faces appeared in front of him.
"You'll bring her back to the land of the living, on one condition. As you travel up those stairs—" he motioned to a seemingly endless staircase Oliver hadn't noticed before— "you may not look back, or she'll be gone forever." To Eulia, he instructed, "Don't speak," and she nodded. "Go," he told Oliver, and disappeared.
Hundreds of emotions flooded Oliver as he began his ascent. He tried asking questions—where were they? Who was that man?—but Eulia was silent. He couldn't even hear her footsteps behind him but resisted the urge to turn around. As soon as they reached the top, he could be with her again.
After what seemed like hours, Oliver set foot on the last step. He climbed out of the hole next to the bench he'd been sitting on before. The sun was just beginning to rise.
Oliver spun, ready to wrap his arms around Eulia and tell her how much he loved her, how much he'd missed her. But Eulia was still on the staircase, not fully in the light.
Immediately, she began to fade. Oliver gasped and clutched at her, but his hands went right through her. She was disappearing right before him. Streams of tears ran from her eyes as she pulled something out of her pocket.
"I know you said you didn't want it," she choked out, voice growing fainter, "but I saved this for you." Eulia placed something into his outstretched hand. "I love you," she whispered.
And she was gone.
Oliver stood there alone at the playground. The staircase had vanished. The wind whistled in the trees. He opened his fist to reveal a plastic circle, the kind you'd find on the mouth of a water bottle.
Oliver sank to the ground. "I didn't mean it," he cried. "I was going to marry you someday. We would've been married. We would've been a family."
Twenty years later, Oliver died in a car crash. Attached to his keys was the keychain Eulia got him. He never did end up marrying anyone.
Because Oliver only loved Eulia. Eulia loved Oliver. This was how it would always be.
This was an entry for a writing contest held in conjunction with Center for Fiction and The Decameron Project
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