Page 2 of An Unexpected Ascension (A War Between Worlds #1)

The Angel

My footsteps echo through the stairway, bouncing off the marble floors and stone walls. The entire building looks like it should be cold, but it’s just the right temperature.

At the top of the staircase is a placard with a list of names, departments, and rooms. My eyes roam down the list trying to find St. Thomas of Confessionals. Exactly in the middle, his name shines back at me in gold lettering.

To the right of his name there’s no room number like there should be, which is entirely unhelpful.

Now I have another choice to make; right hall or left. Naturally, I choose right. Maybe because I’m right-handed or perhaps the brighter path – the path to Heaven – happened to be on the right.

I don’t get very far before a door appears at the end of the hall labeled Confessions.

Similar to the reception area, this room is also empty. White paints every wall, contrasted by the grey countertops with glass between the back office and the waiting area. The layout reminds me of a bank or DMV where bullet proof glass keeps the danger from getting too close. Behind the glass, I can see vacant cubicles and office chairs. I wonder if there’s only work when someone dies.

A yelp hurdles out of my mouth at the appearance of a short, grey-haired man. I should probably get used to things just materializing out of nowhere, but so far, it hasn’t ceased to stun me.

“Papers.”

He snips, holding out his hand.

“Are you Saint Thomas?”

I ask, handing over the stack Magdelena gave me.

“The one and only.”

With a stocky finger, he flips through the pages at a rate that makes you disbelieve he’s even reading it at all. For a Saint, he seems pretty grumpy. I thought everyone would be jubilant and at peace, but I guess not.

“2,487 Hail Marys, 800 volunteer hours as a Buddy, but only after your 90 days is complete, and abstain from any selfish behavior, gluttonous activities, and unnecessary materialistic possessions for at least 5 years.”

After writing all my required penance out, a stamp forms in his hand and he slams it down on the first page, handing it back to me.

Why does that sound worse than jail?

“Can you elaborate on those a little, please? It’s my first time here.”

I joke, but he doesn’t seem amused.

“What exactly are you confused about?”

“Well, what is a buddy? What do you mean by selfish behavior? After five years do I get to be gluttonous and obtain materialistic possessions? What happens if I don’t complete my penance or accidentally violate some of it?”

“Don’t complete your penance and you’re escorted to Hell. Violate a part of your penance and you dig yourself a deeper hole. Unless, of course the violation is grounds for immediate damnation.”

He stares at me.

“If you complete your penance and are absolved of your sins, then you may begin to earn currency to barter for luxuries, which at times may be seen as gluttonous, but between you and me, you earn yourself something fancy, it’s hardly an act of spoilage. Oh, and a buddy is a fellow angel, a guide to help you navigate the rules of Heaven.”

“Rules?”

He sighs, as if I’ve exhausted him already. “Here.”

He snaps his fingers and, in his hands, appears a book the size of a modern encyclopedia one might find at a library back on Earth.

“You can find all the rules in here. Busying yourself with the likes of that will fill some of that time that seems to stretch on for eternity. Your buddy should have the highlights. Okay now, just exit there,”

he points to the same door I entered through.

“and reenter to finalize your admittance.”

Before I can ask him any more questions, he’s gone, and the book seems to disappear into thin air.

Shoot, I needed that!

I drag my feet towards the exit, a horrible gut feeling sinking in. If I couldn’t keep myself from sinning when I was alive, how am I supposed to do it now?

I certainly don’t want to end up in Hell and I’m not sure what Purgatory is, but it doesn’t sound like I would enjoy that either.

Hesitantly, I shut the door behind me, then turn to face it again curious what will be behind it when I walk back through.

I twist the handle, stepping inside, and this time I’m entering a courtroom. Shiny, rich mahogany pews line either side of the isle, separated by the front of the room where the Judge sits.

“Hurry, child. Let’s get this over with.”

He ushers me forward.

With quick steps, I meet him in front of his bench. He holds his hand out, waving for me to give him my papers. He nods as he looks them over, his eyes widening at one point and then clears his throat.

Unlike St. Thomas, the Judge takes his time in reviewing each page. Grimacing at my sins and nodding in approval at the few good deeds. Finally, he looks up at me with chocolate brown eyes, the same as his skin.

“Do you, Briar Wren Fenton, agree to complete your penance and abolish your sins for a blessed afterlife?” he asks.

I nod.

“You must say I do.”

I swallow nervously. “I do.”

“Do you agree to complete 2,487 Hail Marys to repent for your lies?”

“I do.”

“Do you agree to 800 volunteer hours as a Buddy after your ninety days to repent for your pride, drunkenness, and selfishness?”

“I do.”

“Do you agree to abstain from any selfishness, gluttonous activities, and unnecessary materialist possessions for at least 5 years to repent for lying by omission, your arrogance, and having premarital relations?”

Gritting my teeth, I let out the final “I do.”

“Very well.”

He slams his gavel down on the bench, the loud bang echoing in the empty room.

“Welcome to Heaven.”

Snapping his fingers, the pink slip vanishes into thin air and appears above my head for the briefest second, attaching itself to me. It hovers over my head like a little light before it dies out, dissolving once again. The Judge gestures to the door behind me, the same one I’ve walked in and out of already.

Before I leave, I spin around to face him one last time and ask.

“The book of rules; how do I get a hold of it again? It seemed to have disappeared, and I don’t know how to get it back.”

His brows quirk, amused.

“Just snap your fingers and will it, dear.”

I nod him a thank you, then make my way to the curious door and turn its knob.

Despite being on the second floor, I’m led straight outside. The heavy wood slams with a loud thud behind me when I take my first step onto the soft, plush grass, and then disappears out of sight.

Seems about right.

My eyes roam over the quaint, little town. The shops all painted in pale yellows, blues, beiges, or whites. Nothing here is dark, as if everything past a certain gradient was reserved for Hell.

That’s a bummer because I happened to really enjoy dark colors.

There’s a farmers’ market spread out down the street. People stop from one tent to the next, picking out fruits and veggies. Some folks are strolling around the block, others chatting mindlessly. It all seems so... normal.

Well, other than everything constantly materializing, like the guy next to me who wasn’t there before.

“Hi there! I’m Will Andrews, your Buddy,”

he greets, stretching out a hand for me to shake.

I take it, a little less enthusiastic than he is. Will is the quintessential silver fox with slicked back salt and pepper hair and a fresh face with slight wrinkles near eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee.

“Briar.”

I smile.

“So, what did you in?”

His lips turn down in a quizzical look.

“How’d you find yourself in Heaven?”

I clarify.

“This is the path I chose and I’m so thankful I did. It was such a breeze to get in! I only had to repent for my sins over the course of a few weeks when I first got here. It’s been a dream ever since! You’re going to really like your eternity.”

I highly doubt that considering I have five years before I’m done repenting for the sins I racked up in my life. Plus, I’ve never been able to commit to anything longer than a couple years, so my hopes aren't set too high.

“I guess I’m really asking how you died.”

I chuckle, trying to lighten up such a blunt question.

His eyes widen, and he takes a look around as if someone might have overheard.

“We don’t talk about that here,”

he whispers.

“Why not?”

“Look, Briar, there are rules here. We can’t all just go doing whatever we want or talk about whatever we want. Otherwise, this would just be another version of H-e-double-hockey-sticks.”

“Okay, why am I starting to think that He?—”

“H-e-double-hockey-sticks,”

he cuts me off.

“Just trust me. You don’t want to add to your penance.”

“Why, what would happen?”

“You can get kicked out. It’s different here than it is in life. This is your second chance; you’re expected to not make the same mistakes.”

We begin to walk towards the market.

“Do we get money, housing, clothes? How does this all work?”

“You get whatever you want, but you have to earn it. There’s no money here, we all pay in completing our penance and after that, it’s based on work and good deeds. You’re given shelter to sleep at night, though it’s more of a formality because here you don’t have any basic needs. Think of it as a gift of normalcy to help with the transition. Anything in addition to your own space will cost you.”

“Wow, okay. So, if I wanted an apple from the fruit stand, I would have to say a Hail Mary?”

“An apple costs seventy Hail Marys.”

My eyes bug out. Heaven is expensive!

“No point in lingering here then,”

I grumble.

“Can you take me to my new house?”

He nods.

“Just through the market and past Saint’s Rowe.”

We traipse through the center of the market, avoiding bumping into any of the other angels.

As we pass through, a variety of different stands snag my interest.

Besides the array of fresh produce, there’s handmade apparel, jewelry, books, even art supplies.

The array of different colored fabric flashes brightly, contrasting largely with my dark attire, seemingly the only thing dark in Heaven.

Gems glitter in the sun, refracting an array of light, creating little rainbows on nearby surfaces.

My gaze lingers on the market goers trying on bracelets, holding up dresses or smocks, considering pastel chalks versus watercolor paints.

At all the commotion, my heart thumps beneath my sternum.

By instinct, my hand presses to my chest, and for a moment, I doubt that this is anything but a dream.

“It... it still happens. Your heart beating, your lungs breathing. They’re a muscle just like the rest of your body. They’ll continue to move, but don’t mistake it for anything but reflex,”

Will explains.

“I hate it.”

His shoulders sag the tiniest bit. I feel like a rain cloud darkening Heaven’s sky, tarnishing every good thing in sight.

“You’ll get used to it.”

We turn a corner, the stands lining this street offering a variety of sweet concoctions. Chocolates, tarts, pies, and candy. The smell alone renders me dizzy. Although, it’s not the mouthwatering treats that capture my attention, but the sign that sits large and looming at the edge of the market.

Thou shall not hate.

Thou shall not curse.

Thou shall respect thy neighbor.

Thou shall not commit adultery.

Thou shall not speak of fear or morbidity.

Thou...

And so on.

“Lot of rules around here,”

I mutter, thinking about the book that weighed more than an overweight baby.

“Yeah, it helps keep everyone civil and reminds us of what good is, you know?”

“Sure.”

As the market fades behind us, we come upon a block of lavish Victorian mansions, each with wraparound porches and balconies outside every upstairs bedroom. Their windows glow with golden light, forever staged in a show of grandeur.

“Saint’s Rowe,”

he explains.

“Yep, that checks out.”

The blocks of mansions seem endless as we cross what feels like the hundredth street. In real life, it would have taken forever to pass through Saint’s Rowe, but it seems that time isn’t a construct that anyone worries about in Heaven.

Finally, we hit the more modest homes. Quaint, like the little town we started in. All painted in light, pale colors with white picket fences. I’ve never owned my own house while I was alive. My entire adulthood was either spent in my mother’s home or in a shared apartment.

The idea of having something so cute and small for myself definitely might make all this bearable.

“Which one is mine?”

He shoots me an amused expression.

“You’re pretty funny.”

“I take it none of these then.”

I sigh, knowing it was too good to be true, even in Heaven.

“No, definitely not. These houses are for the folk that have completed their penance. We’re about five thousand blocks from your place.”

“What?! Can't you just imagine up a car or something? Why are we walking five thousand blocks on foot?” I whine.

“Cars don’t exist here. There’s no need for that kind of laziness.”

“Right. Of course!”

I bite out.

Will places a hand on my shoulder, a calmness radiating from his palm.

“Look, if we were all just given whatever we want, there wouldn’t be any joy in eternity. Human souls were created to thrive on self-betterment, to look forward to the next big thing in their lives and since we’re no longer living, what is there to look forward to anymore?”

“I think I’d be just fine.”

“That’s probably the attitude that got you a house way in the outskirts of town.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s keep going before it gets dark out.”

“Oh, it doesn’t get dark here, but once you’re through your penance, you can pay to have the night simulated.”

A maniacal laugh rips from my mouth as my fingers thread through my hair, pulling insanely tight until the sting snaps me out of this downward spiral.

“What did I get myself into?” I groan.

Will grimaces.

“It’s not so bad. You don’t ever really need for anything. You’ll never go hungry or tired. You’ll never be worn out or sad. Most don’t even get angry.”

He shrugs, knowing that clearly isn’t the case with me.

“Good news is you can find comfort in your memory projections.”

“Oh great. I get to keep my memories.”

We continue on in silence. I flush away any questions I had before, the answer not worth knowing. I’m sure I’ll find out later anyway.

If I were to guess, it probably took us a good week to finally get to my place, but we’ll never know. The only way I can interpret time is the length of awkward silence between Will and me.

I’m severely underwhelmed by the light grey box. In the center of the house sits two square windows and a white door in between. The roof is flat and the same size as all four walls. There’s no grass here, just dirt and the sidewalk. It’s so dreary and bleak compared to the rest of Heaven. As if the Gods only held enough inspiration for the focal point, running clear of ideas with each block past the gate.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Briar. Just call me if you need me.” He waves.

“Wait! I don’t have your number or a phone.”

“Just call my name out loud and I’ll appear.”

He winks, then treks back the way we came.

“Huh.”

Interesting.

The inside of the house is just as drab as the outside. All the walls the same color, void of any pictures or decor. The first room is the living area, a stone bench built in the center, facing the windows.

The living room extends into a pretend kitchen. A row of counters and cabinets that will never be used and a stainless-steel sink to wash the zero dishes I now own. There’s even an empty fridge, so useless that it’s not even on.

To the right of the kitchen is a room. I open the white door to what I assume is now my bedroom. There’s a cot in the center and to my relief holds a pillow and blanket. At the very least, I can lie down while eternity presses on.

To my surprise, there is a dresser, empty of course, and a bathroom, for all the times I’ll never have to use it.

It’s like the idea of the house is supposed to bring comfort to those in the afterlife, but it’s so far off that it only does the opposite.

By now, I think I would have woken up if this were just a dream. At least in my dreams I have the ability to create a world I can fall in love with, but here, there’s nothing but rules and begging for forgiveness.

I sit down on the concrete bench in my living room, staring out the window. There, I try conjuring a memory to keep me company, but I quickly realize that I have no idea how it works.

“Memories!”

I say out loud.

“Projection. Show me my memories! Hello?”

Nothing.

Dang, I should have asked Will how the heck to do this.

“Will!”

I shout, trying out the only trick I’ve learned so far.

Out of thin air, Will materializes in front of me. Surprised, he looks around, frowning when he notices where he is.

He greets me with a loud groan, wiping his hands down his face.

“I probably should have been clearer. Call me for emergencies only. You can summon me, and I’ll appear, but I still have to walk back on my own. I can’t just teleport by sheer will. Hundreds of blocks all for nothing!”

He grumbles the last part to himself.

“Oops, sorry. I didn’t know that, but since you’re here, how do I project my memories?” I ask.

“You just close your eyes, think of a specific memory, and when you open your eyes again, you’ll see it playing like a movie. Now, if there’s anything else you would like to ask before I leave, do it now,” he warns.

“Can I leave my house?”

“Yes. You can go anywhere you would like.”

I nod, thinking of another question before he disappears.

“When will I see you again?”

“Most likely every day. I’ll make sure you’re keeping up on your penance. Time here flies by, mostly because there is no day or night, so it’s hard to keep track. If you knock on any nearby surface, your calendar and clock will appear. If you snap your fingers, your penance receipt will appear. Just whatever you do, don’t say the name H-e-r-m-e-s.”

Will spins on his heels, but before he can leave me, I have to ask.

“Why?”

He chuckles.

“He’s the only demon that can be summoned to Heaven. I recommend forgetting I even told you that.”

“Then why did you? I wouldn’t have known to say that name aloud until you said something,” I reason.

“There’s always whispers and rumors. Eventually, curiosity would have gotten the best of you and then... poof! You’d be gone, just like that.”

“Gone? Where?”

“Satan’s house of horrors.”

I pinch my lips, suddenly nervous that if I open my mouth the name will slip all on its own. Will takes that as his queue to leave again, muttering on his way out about the long trek back to the nicer neighborhood.

As the door shuts quietly behind him, despite knowing he would have slammed it if that were such a thing around here, I let out a trapped breath.

“Well, fuck.”

A ping echoes from within me, reverberating around the empty, grey house. When I look up, I find the penance receipt Will had mentioned hovering in the air just above my head. Added to the list, underneath the 2,487 Hail Marys, a single Our Father prayer appears.

A groan bellows out of my mouth and my lungs expel every ounce of breath along with it. I’d much rather scream, but I’m sure that might cost me. Instead, I drop down to the cement bench and squeeze my eyes shut.