This was it. The big moment. Carolyn gritted her teeth, tossed her hair, and threw open the door.

"Congratulations!" The voice echoed and a blast of audio feedback assailed her eardrums. "You are the hundred-millionth person to enter. Come on over and discover your prize."

She stood motionless, completely overwhelmed by the tumultuous clapping, the blinding lights, the incredible intensity of emotion surging through her veins. Her eyes finally adjusted. Her heart skipped several beats.

There was no audience cheering her on. No rows of empty seats. No television crew. Only a huge stage burning under a multitude of lights. At centre stage, a wizened creature the size of a raven sat on a stool clutching a microphone.

She blinked. "Who the hell are you?"

"Does it matter?" The creature grinned, and turned into a normal-sized man, his creased brown face reminding her of an old leather handbag. "You have won 'Surprise of Your Life'. Are you surprised?"

He cackled and Carolyn fought the urge to stride over and slap him. Anger management was never her forte and this seriously tested her resolve to be a better person.

The man tapped his foot. "Come on," he said. "Aren't you going to ask what you've won?"

"Umm," she said, "isn't it your job to tell me?"

"Don't be like that. You're supposed to play the game."

"But I've already won, haven't I?"

He glared at her, all pleasantness evaporating.

"Oh, give me strength," he said, somewhat theatrically. "Not another one."

"Not another what?" Carolyn's nostrils flared and she counted to three to control her temper.

"Look," he said, "I'm just here to do my job and take you to your afterlife."

"To my what?"

"Afterlife. You know, what comes after death."

A cold pit opened in Carolyn's belly. "Say again?"

The man rolled his eyes. "You are a bit dim, aren't you?"

"There's no need to be rude," she snapped. "I wasn't expecting to open a door and suddenly be dead."

"No one does, dear. That's why this game is called 'Surprise of Your Life'.

Carolyn's mind raced. She had no intention of dying when she woke up this morning and she certainly had no intention of being dead now.

"Do you have a name?" she asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"For crying out loud, can we lose the questions? Your name, please."

"Psychopomp. But you can call me Pomp."

Carolyn stared at him, mouth agape. "Psycho?"

Pomp sighed dramatically. "Now you see why I don't give my name."

"You could just tell people it's Pomp without mentioning the Psycho bit."

"I could, but I don't. Psychopomp means soul guide, and we are the VIP of the afterlife with a long and illustrious history. Charon. Anubis. Hecate. The Valkyries. You've heard of those?"

She nodded.

"All psychopomps. Like me."

"But they have actual names. Maybe I could call you Bob? Or Jimmy or Steve? Those are game show host names. What do you think?"

"No."

"I see," she said, and bit her lower lip as she collected her thoughts. "Okay, Pomp. Do I have to accept this prize?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But what if I turn around and walk back out through that door?"

"What door?"

She spun around. There was no door. There wasn't even a wall, merely a vast grey nothingness and a floor that ended at the balls of her feet.

"Damn," she said, fighting a sudden wave of vertigo and shuffling backwards.

"Come along," said Pomp. "No point in dilly-dallying. This room won't hold forever."

She stared at the floor and watched it dissolve another few inches. This was it then. There was absolutely nothing Carolyn could do to change the facts. She was dead. But maybe there was a positive side after all.

"You said I was the hundred-millionth person to enter. Do I get anything special for that?"

He shrugged. "We're not averse to spin in the afterlife. It's developed a poor reputation over the past few decades."

"Oh," she said. "You say that to everyone. Silly me." She straightened up and tossed her hair again for good measure. "Fool me once, fool me never again,"

"That's the spirit," said Pomp. "You aren't a bad person, Carolyn McKenzie, despite the temper. You're brave and kind to the core. I wouldn't worry too much about what comes next." A welcoming warmth and charm replaced the brittle game show host overtones. "It's not so bad once you're used to it. Some nice people on the other side. Celebrities and all."

"More spin?" she asked.

"None whatsoever."

Carolyn took a step forward. The wall on the other side had disappeared, replaced by a brilliant shimmering light. She swore she could hear a rock band playing on the other side.

"Rock musicians!" She certainly wouldn't have expected to find any of those here.

Pomp nodded. "Surprisingly good people despite all the sex and drugs. We're more forgiving of such behaviour when it's exceeded by good works."

"Really? I thought the rules were hard and fast."

"That's what we like people to think."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He grinned and Carolyn knew she'd get no more information from him.

"I guess this is goodbye then, Pomp."

"Yes."

"One last question. How is it being the host of the longest running game show in history?"

Pomp's shoulders sagged. "Ineffably sad."

She reached over and squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks for asking. Few do."

Carolyn tilted her chin upwards. If this was her afterlife, she'd make the best of it. She nodded to Pomp and strode with confidence toward the light.

"You'll be fine," he yelled as she passed to the other side. The shimmer expanded then contracted, solidifying into a wall. Pomp sighed, a little sorry for himself but mostly happy for Carolyn. "They always are."

Already the room was rebuilding around him. His job was not one for the faint-hearted. Soon, another one would be coming to the afterlife as they had for millennia and would for several centuries more. Until humanity's last day, Psychopomp would be there to guide their souls.

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