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	[WP] As you approach the Angel, intrigued and amazed.Suddenly someone speaks behind you, "I wouldn't get near that if i were you"	"I wouldn't get near that, if i were you." Startled, i spun quickly. There stood a man, his clothing both normal and out of time, his features both beautiful and terrifying. Looking at him gave me a similar feeling to the other being. The Angel? I thought. "Why not?" I ask the strangely intoxicating man. His mouth quirked into a knowing smirk, something both pleased with himself and I assumed amused by my ignorance. "Because, child of Cain, he is your enemy." Child of Cain? I thought. What does that mean, my father's name is Bradley. I turn back to the creature, there it hovers, gilded armor glowing ethereally, six wings working in unison keeping it aloft. It was scanning the neighborhood, seemingly searching for something. "Is it really an angel?" I ask, turning back to the other man. "A seraphim, actually, a soldier of the light, though I think you should know that your legends of these creatures are slightly incorrect." The angel still scanned the neighborhood, it hadn't seen me yet, though I was standing so close I just knew somehow that he still didn't know I was here. "What about them?" I ask idly, no longer feeling safe looking away from this creature. Why was that? Did i trust this ethereal man? "Your legends, your Bibles, your Qur'an, your Torah, they all tell you that angels are soldiers and messengers of your just and merciful creator. This however is a human fabrication. The religions designed to unite and control you. No, angels are simply a race of superior beings, beings from another dimension who've long fought a holy crusade with your world as a common battleground." Despite my creeping fears about the angel, i turned now, to face this radiant being, to see with my own eyes what could only be a joking expression. But no, there he stood his face calm and serious. I felt from him a sort of sorrow at my disbelief. "Earlier, you called me a son of Cain... What did you mean?" I asked thinking back to my youth, my religious upbringing. I knew what he was going to say next, even if i didn't want to believe. "Cain, the betrayer, cursed to ever walk this world lusting after the blood of his brother." he said, tearing the words from my mind as though he knew my thoughts. Fear. Even as my heart beat faster my skin paled. Goosebumps ran up the surface of my skin, my hair now stood on end. "Who are you?" I ask finally. "My name is Lucifer, I am the Dark Seraphim, leader of the rebellion, and, I hope, Savior to you." He said without a hint of pride or lust. In fact seemed strangely benevolent, considering he was the one we call the devil. "Child if Cain, my shadow cannot protect you forever, the Seraphim have returned to your realm after centuries of truce, they are here to cleanse your world once more. I won't be able to save you all, but if you take my hand I promise you will live on to fight another day." Tentative, i raise my hand to take his, I spare a glance over my shoulder, the Seraphim's gaze locked on mine, it's expression darkened, I could feel his sense of justice radiating, he lunged. I reached out grasping for the hand of the devil, Lucifer would be my Savior, how ironic. The world vanished...	You recognize that voice. "And why should I not, John? You know I've been looking for this angel for a few months now", I said. You hear John's footsteps as he walk closer, but you don't want to look at him yet. "My whole life, I was a confused person. I never understood what society wants from me." "All my friends try to limit me. Look at you, John, you're even here again to try to take away the only thing I really need to make everything bet... STOP WALKING TOWARDS ME". You raged, John stopped. John will not, again, take away what you really need from life. The single thing you've been pursueing for the past 5 years without any success. You're finally here and you won't let John ruin everything again. "This is just the most perfect thing I've seen and it's right here. After I touch this angel, all the darkness will dissapear and I'll finally be happy. Please understand John" You reach out to touch the Angel, making you fall off the balance of the fence you were standing on, falling down into the cold water that flows under the bridge.
	[WP] You can predict anyone's death, but you can't tell anyone.	I was eager, despite six lanes of rushing traffic, to cross. "Not yet," my older sister said, tugging my hand back so my toes weren't touching the road's edge. "It's not safe." I never really felt the same danger she did, but I couldn't protest. "Walk," the crossing signal chirped. "Walk... walk..." The cars had slowed to a halt. We moved, with me leading for a while. But I had to stop. I was compelled to. Something felt wrong. Everyone around us felt wrong. Even my sister and myself. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I started tugging her back, but she didn't know, and I couldn't tell her. She started dragging me forward, despite my increasingly desperate pleas to go back. "School's starting soon, you weirdo," she said. But then she just felt normal. And so did I. I didn't know why I felt more at ease, or why I thought to do this, but I just held her still. Both arms around her waist, refusing to move. _Please_, I wanted to say, _don't move from this spot_. The sound of screeching metal and panicked crowds grew around us, but I just buried my face in her stomach and refused to let us move from this spot. And sure enough, the dust was settling, and neither of us were hurt by the catastrophe taking place around us.	Hey Jamie, Get a load of this, I know you are doing a whole psych section on your show and man did I just hit the motherlode. Don’t ask me how I found her, but give this a read. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cassandra syndrome, putting a name on it makes it seem so much more quotidian. Give something a name and it goes into storage in a box next to childhood memories and just below colors and shapes. Unfortunately, that box still had some holes, and occasionally its contents leak out contaminating my otherwise well packaged understanding of the world. Precognition has been a part of my life for as long as I have had functional memory. This is not to say that I could see the future of states like some modern oracle of Delphi, but rather small things. I could sometimes predict a coin toss, or call out the roll of a die in advance. Big deal right? Not such long odds on a coin toss, and probability alone means I should damn well get it right half the time. The difference then is my ability to tell in advance when I would know the call. The feeling is one that we have all felt, a response my mind has borrowed for its own unique uses. It most closely resembles the sudden clicking of a solution coming together to a long fought problem, the moment when you are certain you have the correct answer. It was a long time before I learned that my ability to feel these predictions was unique and not something everyone has. I used to look at the games of poker professionals and be sure that I was just watching others who had perfected the skills that I was starting in on. But even once I began to realize the uniqueness of my abilities I could hardly prove them to others. Who would believe that predicting a few small probabilities was proof of some supernatural ability. Still this feature of my mind was no huge concern or benefit in my life; I might use it to win a few bets, but little else. It was to my shock then when after a particularly gut wrenching dream about the passing of an old friend that I found the same feeling of certainty once again rattling around my head. On that morning, in the predawn light I found myself repeatedly debating reaching over to the phone to call her and make sure she was ok, but as the sun rose further into the sky and its rays helped to clear the nights’ wonderings I let it slide as many a past nightmare. I’m no author, and my foreshadowing feels shallow, so I will spare you the tension and tell you that later that day I discovered said friend had passed earlier that morning. Precognitive or not, nothing prepares you for that kind of burden. My thoughts swayed back and forth, morning for my friend, shock and even pride over a new found power, fear at its implications, excitement at its implications. The next person I dreamed was someone who I had never met. A tall man in a trench coat, easily identifiable by his flaming read beard and balding head. In this dream I saw not only what, but how. I saw him step off a curb looking the wrong direction and the car that broke is spine. That morning the dream was followed by the same feeling of knowing, but this time I had no number to call. It was to my horror then that while walking to work on the crowded city sidewalk I encountered this same flame bearded man. I am not normally an outgoing person, but I was a bit shaken up by past and current events, so I walked up to the man and began to speak with him. I warned him of what I had seen, but inevitably he took this as the ramblings of a crazy local and tried to shake me off in the crowed. As a result, I was too far away as he stepped out into the road, looking back to make sure that he had shaken of the looney. I couldn’t see what happens but I heard the horns and the crumpling noise of a body hitting the pavement. Work was not in the cards for me, neither was waiting in that spot trying to explain what I had seen, and to hide what I had known from the police who would soon be along to take away the body. I walked back to my apartment and found myself at the front door unable to recall if any time had actually passed in my wonderings. Another hiatus in my memory and I found myself, still dressed, back in bed. A transition from reality to dream must have occurred, but I cannot pull up the memory of my fainting consciousness. Still the dream that followed remained clear and inexplicable. The hot lamps of a TV theater shown on my face, across from me behind his horseshoe shaped desk the smiling visage of an overly perfectly groomed TV puppet was asking me about my powers. My reply was muffled by a somnambulant veil, but my mind translated the gist well enough, I was telling about how I had seen the man with the red beard die. At this the dream faded, and the scenery changed. I saw myself, now from the outside, in a room with others that I somehow knew also possessed my Cassandras syndrome. Plans on the table that looked militaristic, holographic projections of countries whose names I could not even recall floated a few inches above the tables surface. Again a fading, again a new screen. Scorched towers, glass melted into heaps of slag encasing charred bone. Fortified skeletal steel structures, squat and pathetic amidst the ruins of once aspiring towers of babble that had composed the cities skylines. The odd crests adorning each fort were unknown to me, but somehow inspired terror in a way to which waking life offers no parallel. And finally a single flash, more a direct memory than a visual image, of myself. Old and wizened, wandering in a deserted wasteland of ruble and sand. Slowly this ancient self climbed the hill before her and surveyed the largest yard of graves I had ever encountered. Each stone was marked, some by crosses, others by crescents, and still countless more by those strange symbols above the forts. There the dream ended and the certainty returned. I have made this record because I cannot contain such knowledge within myself any longer, yet I cannot share it either. I cannot risk sharing what I have seen with another sole, thus I hope avoiding my dramas first act. Cassandra was cursed to know the future and never be believed, I however have been cursed to know the future and never be able to tell. -------------------------------------------------------------- Anyway, like I said I think she would be perfect, you can use her when you get to your section on messiah complexes. Let me know what you think. Godard P.S. Let’s catch up for dinner tonight, it’s been a long week and I’m way too tired to cook.
	[WP] You can predict anyone's death, but you can't tell anyone.	Everyone has an aura about them, and it changes color the closer you are to death. At least, that's how I've always seen the world. Gives everything this creepy-ass, surreal vibe to it when you are sitting on the subway, or waiting in line for something, and you see somebody next to you just absolutely dripping black. I tried telling a friend a long time ago but he had just laughed, "Man, you keep talking like that they'll put you in the nut house", or something to that effect. So I keep this to myself, mostly. Ya kinda learn to ignore it most days, if you start dwelling on it too much... "Hey, what's up? You feelin' okay? You ain't said much since we got here" a voice to my right asked, startling me back to reality. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine sorry. Just lost in thought, but I'm still here. Just a bit sad that you have to go back home already, chick." I looked up at my sister and smiled. She had flown out here to California for her summer break and surprised me by showing up at my apartment. I put her up at my place, and we had a grand ol' time. That was two weeks ago, right now I was at the airport to see her off. "Well, thanks for taking all that time off work and putting up with me, I'm gonna miss you." "Well, what else are older brothers for? I haven't picked on you in way too long anyway ya goofball, how could I pass that opportunity up?" I gave her a playful shove "Ha ha, goofball, huh? You must be running out of ideas if that's the best you could come up with," She laughed "Hey, gimme a break. I'm out of practice, it's been almost two years since I saw you." I smiled warmly and messed up her hair. "Hey, come on, really? Why ya gotta be like that, jerkface." She giggled, straightening her hair out, "Well, I gotta go. They don't let you in without a boarding pass anymore, so I guess this is where I leave ya." "Okay, sis. Have a safe flight." I pulled her in closely and gave her a hug, "I love you. Don't you ever forget that, you may be all grown up, but you'll always be my baby sister, and nothing can change that." "I love you, too, loser, and I'm not a baby. Don't be afraid to text me once in a while, I don't wanna go another year without hearing from you." She pulled away, laughing and proceeded through the checkpoint. I pulled my phone out and texted her while she was boarding, Love you, sis. Text me when you land, you know I'll worry if you don't. My phone lit up, Love ya too, I will. =) I could see her plane from the window so I stood there and watched, while they finished up final preparations. As the plane began taxiing away my blood froze as I could see the entire plane turn black as midnight, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.	Hey Jamie, Get a load of this, I know you are doing a whole psych section on your show and man did I just hit the motherlode. Don’t ask me how I found her, but give this a read. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cassandra syndrome, putting a name on it makes it seem so much more quotidian. Give something a name and it goes into storage in a box next to childhood memories and just below colors and shapes. Unfortunately, that box still had some holes, and occasionally its contents leak out contaminating my otherwise well packaged understanding of the world. Precognition has been a part of my life for as long as I have had functional memory. This is not to say that I could see the future of states like some modern oracle of Delphi, but rather small things. I could sometimes predict a coin toss, or call out the roll of a die in advance. Big deal right? Not such long odds on a coin toss, and probability alone means I should damn well get it right half the time. The difference then is my ability to tell in advance when I would know the call. The feeling is one that we have all felt, a response my mind has borrowed for its own unique uses. It most closely resembles the sudden clicking of a solution coming together to a long fought problem, the moment when you are certain you have the correct answer. It was a long time before I learned that my ability to feel these predictions was unique and not something everyone has. I used to look at the games of poker professionals and be sure that I was just watching others who had perfected the skills that I was starting in on. But even once I began to realize the uniqueness of my abilities I could hardly prove them to others. Who would believe that predicting a few small probabilities was proof of some supernatural ability. Still this feature of my mind was no huge concern or benefit in my life; I might use it to win a few bets, but little else. It was to my shock then when after a particularly gut wrenching dream about the passing of an old friend that I found the same feeling of certainty once again rattling around my head. On that morning, in the predawn light I found myself repeatedly debating reaching over to the phone to call her and make sure she was ok, but as the sun rose further into the sky and its rays helped to clear the nights’ wonderings I let it slide as many a past nightmare. I’m no author, and my foreshadowing feels shallow, so I will spare you the tension and tell you that later that day I discovered said friend had passed earlier that morning. Precognitive or not, nothing prepares you for that kind of burden. My thoughts swayed back and forth, morning for my friend, shock and even pride over a new found power, fear at its implications, excitement at its implications. The next person I dreamed was someone who I had never met. A tall man in a trench coat, easily identifiable by his flaming read beard and balding head. In this dream I saw not only what, but how. I saw him step off a curb looking the wrong direction and the car that broke is spine. That morning the dream was followed by the same feeling of knowing, but this time I had no number to call. It was to my horror then that while walking to work on the crowded city sidewalk I encountered this same flame bearded man. I am not normally an outgoing person, but I was a bit shaken up by past and current events, so I walked up to the man and began to speak with him. I warned him of what I had seen, but inevitably he took this as the ramblings of a crazy local and tried to shake me off in the crowed. As a result, I was too far away as he stepped out into the road, looking back to make sure that he had shaken of the looney. I couldn’t see what happens but I heard the horns and the crumpling noise of a body hitting the pavement. Work was not in the cards for me, neither was waiting in that spot trying to explain what I had seen, and to hide what I had known from the police who would soon be along to take away the body. I walked back to my apartment and found myself at the front door unable to recall if any time had actually passed in my wonderings. Another hiatus in my memory and I found myself, still dressed, back in bed. A transition from reality to dream must have occurred, but I cannot pull up the memory of my fainting consciousness. Still the dream that followed remained clear and inexplicable. The hot lamps of a TV theater shown on my face, across from me behind his horseshoe shaped desk the smiling visage of an overly perfectly groomed TV puppet was asking me about my powers. My reply was muffled by a somnambulant veil, but my mind translated the gist well enough, I was telling about how I had seen the man with the red beard die. At this the dream faded, and the scenery changed. I saw myself, now from the outside, in a room with others that I somehow knew also possessed my Cassandras syndrome. Plans on the table that looked militaristic, holographic projections of countries whose names I could not even recall floated a few inches above the tables surface. Again a fading, again a new screen. Scorched towers, glass melted into heaps of slag encasing charred bone. Fortified skeletal steel structures, squat and pathetic amidst the ruins of once aspiring towers of babble that had composed the cities skylines. The odd crests adorning each fort were unknown to me, but somehow inspired terror in a way to which waking life offers no parallel. And finally a single flash, more a direct memory than a visual image, of myself. Old and wizened, wandering in a deserted wasteland of ruble and sand. Slowly this ancient self climbed the hill before her and surveyed the largest yard of graves I had ever encountered. Each stone was marked, some by crosses, others by crescents, and still countless more by those strange symbols above the forts. There the dream ended and the certainty returned. I have made this record because I cannot contain such knowledge within myself any longer, yet I cannot share it either. I cannot risk sharing what I have seen with another sole, thus I hope avoiding my dramas first act. Cassandra was cursed to know the future and never be believed, I however have been cursed to know the future and never be able to tell. -------------------------------------------------------------- Anyway, like I said I think she would be perfect, you can use her when you get to your section on messiah complexes. Let me know what you think. Godard P.S. Let’s catch up for dinner tonight, it’s been a long week and I’m way too tired to cook.
	[WP] You live in a world were a zombie apocalypse happened. Civilisation didn't fall to pieces though but has created a task force to defeat the zombies. You are part of it and go on your first mission. That's when you realise that you weren't told everything about "them"...	We were called the Alpha Teams. I think it was supposed to bring to mind the same sorts of sentiments at Delta Force or some other spec ops horse-shit. The bulk of us were a healthy mixture of Rangers and MARSOC, the newly established kids on the block looking for missions to prove their value. I think it was some sort of good fortune that the best of the Army infantry and the craziest of the Marine Corps were able to get clumped into one weird, domestic mission. That big D word being the biggest crux of the whole thing. Not the fact that the dead were rising up and devouring the living, not that the fringes of the United States were locking their doors at night for totally new reasons, but the bullshit political nonsense that the federal military was being used within state boundries. I suppose when Chicago happened or Yonkers went down that was when the idiots in Washington and all the state court houses finally opened their eyes. When Houston burned for two weeks _I_ was there, Alpha saw it happen. The fuck'n Z's weren't the real threat, _other people were_. The pattern was always the same, suburb after suburb would get slowly overwhelmed and as Army Group South pushed toward The Houston Lines the Alpha Teams were the first in, riding stallion on Blackhawks. The post Panic army was mostly just those guys in the dark blue, mowing down the G's in the open, but for the major cities the brass would have to send in Alpha to prime the pump, we called it. We'd land on the edge of the cities, fire off a bunch of ordinance, ring the dinner bell, get a real swarm shambling our way. Then we'd shepherd that mob toward wherever the boys and girls in blue were and evac the hell out. But Houston, man. That changed _everything_. On the way in one of the birds took small arms fire and the right seater, co-pilot type, he takes hot lead between the eyes and almost brings a whole chalk of Alpha boys down in flames. So right from the infiltration things were off the rails. We had one squad dropped two clicks short of the drop zone and step off point, and the rest of the team _came under fire_ as soon as we got off the helicopters. The sons a' bitches waited until we were off loading to figure out what gear we had and what government they thought we came from. They wrecked all of second squad in the opening volley and I gotta tell ya I was real glad we'd kept training over and over again for conventional fights even when the Z's were sweeping the nation because we'd have been well equipped doorstoppers without it. Ended up having to call in _air strikes_ to finally neutralize the fucking Sally's. Sally's? Soviergn Nation Supporters, we'd just call em' Sally's. Crazy idiots who sorta liked being independent of the central government and didn't really want to welcome the old world back in. Turned out, most of Houston was actually pretty clear of Z's 'xcept for the typical hospital or inner city pockets. Fuck'n Sally'd been doin a fine job of keeping his sector clear. He just didn't wanna see Uncle Sam wander in on the turf he'd fought and bled for. Yea, the Battle for Houston was a real eye opener for what was coming when we hit Atlanta, it cost us a lot to learn those lessons but we weren't caught with our pants down again.	“Wait, what was that noise?” “What do you mean, 'what was that noise'?” “That screech just then. What the fuck was that?” “Are you for real? That was a zombie.” “Then why the fuck are they screaming?! Nobody told me they scream. Zombies don't scream. They make 'uurrgghhh' noises.” “Shhhh! Listen.” Rustling could be heard from down the narrow passage. A dark shadowy figure leapt from the behind a dumpster and sped across the desolate street. “Fuck. This.” “I said be quiet!” “Did you see that?! It was fucking sprinting! Why was it sprinting?” The team crouched against the claustrophobic walls, holding their position as if they were paralysed by the anticipation of what was about occur. “What did you expect when you signed up for this?” “Look at me. Look how underdressed I am right now. All I've brought is this ebay Katana sword and a Go-Pro.” Low grumblings could be heard from the rooftops. Fear swept over the face of the General, “they know we're here.” “I'm sorry, what? They know we're here? They think?” “They don't just think, they talk.” “Well someone tell them that I'm out because you arseholes let me waltz in here looking like a shitty cosplayer. Did none of you think to tell me how idiotic I looked? I'm wearing a skull and cross bones bandana. I've been regurgitating 80's action movie catchphrases for the past 45 minutes.” “If you don't shut your fucking mouth I'll feed you to the zombies myself. You're jepordising the entire team right now.” “No you jepordised the entire team when you picked the guy practicing karate in the car park to come along on this mission. I've never even taken a class.” Heads could be seen peering over the rooftops, analysing the position of the squad below. Grunts and grumbles fell faint in the air. It was obvious they had been flanked and were now surrounded. “Listen here you little fuck, this is the real world. This is what it's fucking like when you come out on a mission. This is what you signed up for. You're here now and that's all that matters.” “Oh God, why would you let me come along with just a sword. And to think, I almost rented a horse for this.” The limp, lifeless body of a soldier was hurled from the rooftop. It thudded against the floor like a sack of raw meat, exploding upon impact, blood splattered in every direction. “Why didn't they eat him? Why did they save his body for this moment? The fuck is that?” "Quiet!" "No, seriously. The fuck is that." The General, crouching behind an abandoned car, rose to his feet, "we need to move, we're sitting ducks here. Let's go, on me.” “OK, just let me turn my Go-Pro on first.” **** I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
	[WP] You live in a world were a zombie apocalypse happened. Civilisation didn't fall to pieces though but has created a task force to defeat the zombies. You are part of it and go on your first mission. That's when you realise that you weren't told everything about "them"...	"Grandpa, would you tell us a story from when you were in the war?" My grandkids' were always asking me to tell stories. For years though I held my tongue. They were just too young, they wouldn't understand. But now, they were old enough. I looked to my daughter to see if she felt they were ready. She gave a nod and left the room. Once was enough for her. "Alright kids gather-round. Now I'm warning you, this isn't a story of adventure or anything like your games based on the war." They didn't care. They were finally hearing "the story". "Alright then. The outbreak was back in 2023. Detroit was lost completely within the first week and was followed by Boston. You probably heard all that in your history books though. The survivors hiding out in Boston were eventually able to take back most of the city. The people created a task force to wipe out the creatures. I was one of the first volunteers. "None of us had any training. We were going off of video games, movies, and whatever experience we had with weapons. We weren't perfect and we lost a few men along the way but we got the job done. We cleared the city block by block each and every day. I remember my first assignment. "We had found a small supply of military helicopters, the kind with those huge Gatling guns on the side, and one of our guys, we called him Spudd, was the helicopter guy for the local news before the outbreak. Well, he took a couple days and practiced flying it. He picked it up real fast. Within the week, we were flying to our first mission location. On the way there, we saw them lurking around so Jeff got on the gun and just started unloading on them. He laughed and laughed while he did, shouting 'This is just like the video games, guys! Wanna try?' Robert took the gun from him and sprayed a bit too. His smile could be seen a mile away. "We reached the landing zone and hopped out of the chopper. Spudd went to one of the nearby rooftops to wait for our flare. As we moved through the streets, the infected continually ran at us, screaming with bottles and broken broom sticks in their hands. One of them even had a knife. It was that knife that confused us. I had never seen a creature other than a human wield a knife. I'd heard that monkeys did but never anything dumber than a monkey. "We rounded the next street corner and Todd got hit by a shotgun. They had learned how to use our weapons. It was then that dozens of them came out from the alleyways and started shooting at us. Some rushed us with knives and one stayed back on a rifle. Their screams were horrible and their clothes were in tatters. One guy with a knife fell dead at my feet and I swear I heard him say 'mother' but that could've been the air escaping his lungs. It was then, after we had taken nearly all of them out that this lady one came walking out from one of the alleyways screaming 'STOP!' We all stopped, dumbfounded that one of these zombies could actually form words. "'Please, all we wanted was to have a life! We didn't mean to kill so many, we just didn't want to have to sleep in cardboard boxes anymore! We got tired of the condescending looks as we begged and pleaded for money or even just food!' a shot rang out and the woman's head exploded. Later my guys swore that none of them fired a shot. Either they were lying or the other side just didn't care anymore. "We continued clearing the city. It was good pay but once that lady came out saying that, I didn't enjoy it anymore..." Silence hung in the room for awhile. My daughter came back in and said "Dinner is ready" at just above a whisper. Dinner was quiet. --- Thanks for reading! Sorry if there are grammar errors. This was written in a hurry. Back to work now.	“Wait, what was that noise?” “What do you mean, 'what was that noise'?” “That screech just then. What the fuck was that?” “Are you for real? That was a zombie.” “Then why the fuck are they screaming?! Nobody told me they scream. Zombies don't scream. They make 'uurrgghhh' noises.” “Shhhh! Listen.” Rustling could be heard from down the narrow passage. A dark shadowy figure leapt from the behind a dumpster and sped across the desolate street. “Fuck. This.” “I said be quiet!” “Did you see that?! It was fucking sprinting! Why was it sprinting?” The team crouched against the claustrophobic walls, holding their position as if they were paralysed by the anticipation of what was about occur. “What did you expect when you signed up for this?” “Look at me. Look how underdressed I am right now. All I've brought is this ebay Katana sword and a Go-Pro.” Low grumblings could be heard from the rooftops. Fear swept over the face of the General, “they know we're here.” “I'm sorry, what? They know we're here? They think?” “They don't just think, they talk.” “Well someone tell them that I'm out because you arseholes let me waltz in here looking like a shitty cosplayer. Did none of you think to tell me how idiotic I looked? I'm wearing a skull and cross bones bandana. I've been regurgitating 80's action movie catchphrases for the past 45 minutes.” “If you don't shut your fucking mouth I'll feed you to the zombies myself. You're jepordising the entire team right now.” “No you jepordised the entire team when you picked the guy practicing karate in the car park to come along on this mission. I've never even taken a class.” Heads could be seen peering over the rooftops, analysing the position of the squad below. Grunts and grumbles fell faint in the air. It was obvious they had been flanked and were now surrounded. “Listen here you little fuck, this is the real world. This is what it's fucking like when you come out on a mission. This is what you signed up for. You're here now and that's all that matters.” “Oh God, why would you let me come along with just a sword. And to think, I almost rented a horse for this.” The limp, lifeless body of a soldier was hurled from the rooftop. It thudded against the floor like a sack of raw meat, exploding upon impact, blood splattered in every direction. “Why didn't they eat him? Why did they save his body for this moment? The fuck is that?” "Quiet!" "No, seriously. The fuck is that." The General, crouching behind an abandoned car, rose to his feet, "we need to move, we're sitting ducks here. Let's go, on me.” “OK, just let me turn my Go-Pro on first.” **** I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
	[WP] You live in a world were a zombie apocalypse happened. Civilisation didn't fall to pieces though but has created a task force to defeat the zombies. You are part of it and go on your first mission. That's when you realise that you weren't told everything about "them"...	"Rifle, check. Handgun, check. Ammo, check. Spare water, check," I mumbled to myself, scouring my bag for anything I may have missed. It was my first mission as a special operative in the war against "them." Six months I spent training for this moment. I was ready to take them on. I heard a voice behind me call my name. "Smith!" Turning around, I saw it was my platoon sergeant. I stood tall and erect. "Sir, I am prepared (Edit: spelling) for the mission," I told him. "I am awaiting your orders." He looked at me, puzzled. "No one told you then," he muttered. "Told me what, sir?" I asked, my voice shakey. He put his hand on my shoulder, looking me squarely in the eye. "Smith, these last few months you have spent diligently training. You've worked harder than the others. Because of that, I'm assigning you to a very important mission." He began walking and motioned me to follow. We made our way to a chopper and took to the skies. The sergeant began to speaK again. "There are houses out here that need protection. There are families inside, children, women." He gave me a solemn look. "I need you to defend a home from the next wave of zombies." I stood firm before him. "Sir, I will do my best!" "Good," he replied. He landed the chopper in front of a small looking home. The windows were barred, but I could catch a glimpse of scared eyes staring back at me. "Smith!" I heard the sergeant call out. I made my way towards him, and he led me to the front of the house. We stopped at a huge lawn. Despite its surroundings being in utter shambles, the lush, green lawn was neatly trimmed. "Smith," said the sergeant, "I need you to take these supplies." "Oh thank---" Before I could finish my sentence, my jaw dropped at the odd sight in front of me. The sergeant had brought a wheel barrow filled with various gardening supplies, a lawn mower, various potted plants, and a few bags of mulch. He handed me a small trowel. "Use it well, Smith. You're going to save lives today." "I, whaa...???" I was utterly speechless, and before I could say anything, the helicopter was up in the air. I examined the supplies I was given. In the wheel barrow was a small note. It read, "The sun's light will supply you with plants. Use the plants to destroy the zombies. You'll know the wave is over when 'he' arrives." The note made absolutely no sense. "No time in all of my training was it mentioned that we had to garden," I muttered. I turned the note over. There was more on the back, "All that special ops training was just military protocol." Of course. "The real fights starts now. The sunflowers will give you light." I picked up a sunflower, and I was met with a cute, smiling face. "Even the plants are weird," I muttered. I planted five sunflowers across the lawn, along with five pea plants. I heard a low moan in the distance, signalling the beginning of the wave. Before the first zombie even appeared, I cocked my and aimed into the distance, ready to fire. Except, I didn't need to. The zombie was hit with a barrage of peas. In fact, I hardly had to lift a finger. From potato grenades, to pea shooters, to cherry bombs, every plant was equip to take out zombies. Even "him" who the sergeant had warned me of, was no match for these powerful foliage. When the battle was over, and every zombie had been taken out, I sat on the porch and held my head in my hands. "Who knew that the fate of all humanity would be decided in a battle of plants versus zombies."	“Wait, what was that noise?” “What do you mean, 'what was that noise'?” “That screech just then. What the fuck was that?” “Are you for real? That was a zombie.” “Then why the fuck are they screaming?! Nobody told me they scream. Zombies don't scream. They make 'uurrgghhh' noises.” “Shhhh! Listen.” Rustling could be heard from down the narrow passage. A dark shadowy figure leapt from the behind a dumpster and sped across the desolate street. “Fuck. This.” “I said be quiet!” “Did you see that?! It was fucking sprinting! Why was it sprinting?” The team crouched against the claustrophobic walls, holding their position as if they were paralysed by the anticipation of what was about occur. “What did you expect when you signed up for this?” “Look at me. Look how underdressed I am right now. All I've brought is this ebay Katana sword and a Go-Pro.” Low grumblings could be heard from the rooftops. Fear swept over the face of the General, “they know we're here.” “I'm sorry, what? They know we're here? They think?” “They don't just think, they talk.” “Well someone tell them that I'm out because you arseholes let me waltz in here looking like a shitty cosplayer. Did none of you think to tell me how idiotic I looked? I'm wearing a skull and cross bones bandana. I've been regurgitating 80's action movie catchphrases for the past 45 minutes.” “If you don't shut your fucking mouth I'll feed you to the zombies myself. You're jepordising the entire team right now.” “No you jepordised the entire team when you picked the guy practicing karate in the car park to come along on this mission. I've never even taken a class.” Heads could be seen peering over the rooftops, analysing the position of the squad below. Grunts and grumbles fell faint in the air. It was obvious they had been flanked and were now surrounded. “Listen here you little fuck, this is the real world. This is what it's fucking like when you come out on a mission. This is what you signed up for. You're here now and that's all that matters.” “Oh God, why would you let me come along with just a sword. And to think, I almost rented a horse for this.” The limp, lifeless body of a soldier was hurled from the rooftop. It thudded against the floor like a sack of raw meat, exploding upon impact, blood splattered in every direction. “Why didn't they eat him? Why did they save his body for this moment? The fuck is that?” "Quiet!" "No, seriously. The fuck is that." The General, crouching behind an abandoned car, rose to his feet, "we need to move, we're sitting ducks here. Let's go, on me.” “OK, just let me turn my Go-Pro on first.” **** I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
	[WP] You live in a world were a zombie apocalypse happened. Civilisation didn't fall to pieces though but has created a task force to defeat the zombies. You are part of it and go on your first mission. That's when you realise that you weren't told everything about "them"...	"Rifle, check. Handgun, check. Ammo, check. Spare water, check," I mumbled to myself, scouring my bag for anything I may have missed. It was my first mission as a special operative in the war against "them." Six months I spent training for this moment. I was ready to take them on. I heard a voice behind me call my name. "Smith!" Turning around, I saw it was my platoon sergeant. I stood tall and erect. "Sir, I am prepared (Edit: spelling) for the mission," I told him. "I am awaiting your orders." He looked at me, puzzled. "No one told you then," he muttered. "Told me what, sir?" I asked, my voice shakey. He put his hand on my shoulder, looking me squarely in the eye. "Smith, these last few months you have spent diligently training. You've worked harder than the others. Because of that, I'm assigning you to a very important mission." He began walking and motioned me to follow. We made our way to a chopper and took to the skies. The sergeant began to speaK again. "There are houses out here that need protection. There are families inside, children, women." He gave me a solemn look. "I need you to defend a home from the next wave of zombies." I stood firm before him. "Sir, I will do my best!" "Good," he replied. He landed the chopper in front of a small looking home. The windows were barred, but I could catch a glimpse of scared eyes staring back at me. "Smith!" I heard the sergeant call out. I made my way towards him, and he led me to the front of the house. We stopped at a huge lawn. Despite its surroundings being in utter shambles, the lush, green lawn was neatly trimmed. "Smith," said the sergeant, "I need you to take these supplies." "Oh thank---" Before I could finish my sentence, my jaw dropped at the odd sight in front of me. The sergeant had brought a wheel barrow filled with various gardening supplies, a lawn mower, various potted plants, and a few bags of mulch. He handed me a small trowel. "Use it well, Smith. You're going to save lives today." "I, whaa...???" I was utterly speechless, and before I could say anything, the helicopter was up in the air. I examined the supplies I was given. In the wheel barrow was a small note. It read, "The sun's light will supply you with plants. Use the plants to destroy the zombies. You'll know the wave is over when 'he' arrives." The note made absolutely no sense. "No time in all of my training was it mentioned that we had to garden," I muttered. I turned the note over. There was more on the back, "All that special ops training was just military protocol." Of course. "The real fights starts now. The sunflowers will give you light." I picked up a sunflower, and I was met with a cute, smiling face. "Even the plants are weird," I muttered. I planted five sunflowers across the lawn, along with five pea plants. I heard a low moan in the distance, signalling the beginning of the wave. Before the first zombie even appeared, I cocked my and aimed into the distance, ready to fire. Except, I didn't need to. The zombie was hit with a barrage of peas. In fact, I hardly had to lift a finger. From potato grenades, to pea shooters, to cherry bombs, every plant was equip to take out zombies. Even "him" who the sergeant had warned me of, was no match for these powerful foliage. When the battle was over, and every zombie had been taken out, I sat on the porch and held my head in my hands. "Who knew that the fate of all humanity would be decided in a battle of plants versus zombies."	We were called the Alpha Teams. I think it was supposed to bring to mind the same sorts of sentiments at Delta Force or some other spec ops horse-shit. The bulk of us were a healthy mixture of Rangers and MARSOC, the newly established kids on the block looking for missions to prove their value. I think it was some sort of good fortune that the best of the Army infantry and the craziest of the Marine Corps were able to get clumped into one weird, domestic mission. That big D word being the biggest crux of the whole thing. Not the fact that the dead were rising up and devouring the living, not that the fringes of the United States were locking their doors at night for totally new reasons, but the bullshit political nonsense that the federal military was being used within state boundries. I suppose when Chicago happened or Yonkers went down that was when the idiots in Washington and all the state court houses finally opened their eyes. When Houston burned for two weeks _I_ was there, Alpha saw it happen. The fuck'n Z's weren't the real threat, _other people were_. The pattern was always the same, suburb after suburb would get slowly overwhelmed and as Army Group South pushed toward The Houston Lines the Alpha Teams were the first in, riding stallion on Blackhawks. The post Panic army was mostly just those guys in the dark blue, mowing down the G's in the open, but for the major cities the brass would have to send in Alpha to prime the pump, we called it. We'd land on the edge of the cities, fire off a bunch of ordinance, ring the dinner bell, get a real swarm shambling our way. Then we'd shepherd that mob toward wherever the boys and girls in blue were and evac the hell out. But Houston, man. That changed _everything_. On the way in one of the birds took small arms fire and the right seater, co-pilot type, he takes hot lead between the eyes and almost brings a whole chalk of Alpha boys down in flames. So right from the infiltration things were off the rails. We had one squad dropped two clicks short of the drop zone and step off point, and the rest of the team _came under fire_ as soon as we got off the helicopters. The sons a' bitches waited until we were off loading to figure out what gear we had and what government they thought we came from. They wrecked all of second squad in the opening volley and I gotta tell ya I was real glad we'd kept training over and over again for conventional fights even when the Z's were sweeping the nation because we'd have been well equipped doorstoppers without it. Ended up having to call in _air strikes_ to finally neutralize the fucking Sally's. Sally's? Soviergn Nation Supporters, we'd just call em' Sally's. Crazy idiots who sorta liked being independent of the central government and didn't really want to welcome the old world back in. Turned out, most of Houston was actually pretty clear of Z's 'xcept for the typical hospital or inner city pockets. Fuck'n Sally'd been doin a fine job of keeping his sector clear. He just didn't wanna see Uncle Sam wander in on the turf he'd fought and bled for. Yea, the Battle for Houston was a real eye opener for what was coming when we hit Atlanta, it cost us a lot to learn those lessons but we weren't caught with our pants down again.
	[WP] You live in a world were a zombie apocalypse happened. Civilisation didn't fall to pieces though but has created a task force to defeat the zombies. You are part of it and go on your first mission. That's when you realise that you weren't told everything about "them"...	"Rifle, check. Handgun, check. Ammo, check. Spare water, check," I mumbled to myself, scouring my bag for anything I may have missed. It was my first mission as a special operative in the war against "them." Six months I spent training for this moment. I was ready to take them on. I heard a voice behind me call my name. "Smith!" Turning around, I saw it was my platoon sergeant. I stood tall and erect. "Sir, I am prepared (Edit: spelling) for the mission," I told him. "I am awaiting your orders." He looked at me, puzzled. "No one told you then," he muttered. "Told me what, sir?" I asked, my voice shakey. He put his hand on my shoulder, looking me squarely in the eye. "Smith, these last few months you have spent diligently training. You've worked harder than the others. Because of that, I'm assigning you to a very important mission." He began walking and motioned me to follow. We made our way to a chopper and took to the skies. The sergeant began to speaK again. "There are houses out here that need protection. There are families inside, children, women." He gave me a solemn look. "I need you to defend a home from the next wave of zombies." I stood firm before him. "Sir, I will do my best!" "Good," he replied. He landed the chopper in front of a small looking home. The windows were barred, but I could catch a glimpse of scared eyes staring back at me. "Smith!" I heard the sergeant call out. I made my way towards him, and he led me to the front of the house. We stopped at a huge lawn. Despite its surroundings being in utter shambles, the lush, green lawn was neatly trimmed. "Smith," said the sergeant, "I need you to take these supplies." "Oh thank---" Before I could finish my sentence, my jaw dropped at the odd sight in front of me. The sergeant had brought a wheel barrow filled with various gardening supplies, a lawn mower, various potted plants, and a few bags of mulch. He handed me a small trowel. "Use it well, Smith. You're going to save lives today." "I, whaa...???" I was utterly speechless, and before I could say anything, the helicopter was up in the air. I examined the supplies I was given. In the wheel barrow was a small note. It read, "The sun's light will supply you with plants. Use the plants to destroy the zombies. You'll know the wave is over when 'he' arrives." The note made absolutely no sense. "No time in all of my training was it mentioned that we had to garden," I muttered. I turned the note over. There was more on the back, "All that special ops training was just military protocol." Of course. "The real fights starts now. The sunflowers will give you light." I picked up a sunflower, and I was met with a cute, smiling face. "Even the plants are weird," I muttered. I planted five sunflowers across the lawn, along with five pea plants. I heard a low moan in the distance, signalling the beginning of the wave. Before the first zombie even appeared, I cocked my and aimed into the distance, ready to fire. Except, I didn't need to. The zombie was hit with a barrage of peas. In fact, I hardly had to lift a finger. From potato grenades, to pea shooters, to cherry bombs, every plant was equip to take out zombies. Even "him" who the sergeant had warned me of, was no match for these powerful foliage. When the battle was over, and every zombie had been taken out, I sat on the porch and held my head in my hands. "Who knew that the fate of all humanity would be decided in a battle of plants versus zombies."	"Grandpa, would you tell us a story from when you were in the war?" My grandkids' were always asking me to tell stories. For years though I held my tongue. They were just too young, they wouldn't understand. But now, they were old enough. I looked to my daughter to see if she felt they were ready. She gave a nod and left the room. Once was enough for her. "Alright kids gather-round. Now I'm warning you, this isn't a story of adventure or anything like your games based on the war." They didn't care. They were finally hearing "the story". "Alright then. The outbreak was back in 2023. Detroit was lost completely within the first week and was followed by Boston. You probably heard all that in your history books though. The survivors hiding out in Boston were eventually able to take back most of the city. The people created a task force to wipe out the creatures. I was one of the first volunteers. "None of us had any training. We were going off of video games, movies, and whatever experience we had with weapons. We weren't perfect and we lost a few men along the way but we got the job done. We cleared the city block by block each and every day. I remember my first assignment. "We had found a small supply of military helicopters, the kind with those huge Gatling guns on the side, and one of our guys, we called him Spudd, was the helicopter guy for the local news before the outbreak. Well, he took a couple days and practiced flying it. He picked it up real fast. Within the week, we were flying to our first mission location. On the way there, we saw them lurking around so Jeff got on the gun and just started unloading on them. He laughed and laughed while he did, shouting 'This is just like the video games, guys! Wanna try?' Robert took the gun from him and sprayed a bit too. His smile could be seen a mile away. "We reached the landing zone and hopped out of the chopper. Spudd went to one of the nearby rooftops to wait for our flare. As we moved through the streets, the infected continually ran at us, screaming with bottles and broken broom sticks in their hands. One of them even had a knife. It was that knife that confused us. I had never seen a creature other than a human wield a knife. I'd heard that monkeys did but never anything dumber than a monkey. "We rounded the next street corner and Todd got hit by a shotgun. They had learned how to use our weapons. It was then that dozens of them came out from the alleyways and started shooting at us. Some rushed us with knives and one stayed back on a rifle. Their screams were horrible and their clothes were in tatters. One guy with a knife fell dead at my feet and I swear I heard him say 'mother' but that could've been the air escaping his lungs. It was then, after we had taken nearly all of them out that this lady one came walking out from one of the alleyways screaming 'STOP!' We all stopped, dumbfounded that one of these zombies could actually form words. "'Please, all we wanted was to have a life! We didn't mean to kill so many, we just didn't want to have to sleep in cardboard boxes anymore! We got tired of the condescending looks as we begged and pleaded for money or even just food!' a shot rang out and the woman's head exploded. Later my guys swore that none of them fired a shot. Either they were lying or the other side just didn't care anymore. "We continued clearing the city. It was good pay but once that lady came out saying that, I didn't enjoy it anymore..." Silence hung in the room for awhile. My daughter came back in and said "Dinner is ready" at just above a whisper. Dinner was quiet. --- Thanks for reading! Sorry if there are grammar errors. This was written in a hurry. Back to work now.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	It was all over the news. The first man to 250! The world counted down. The clock struck zero. It's fortunate that in the ensuing chaos, the dying thrashes of the cameraman knocked over the camera. Only a few thousand people were exposed to his new form. Those poor souls had their eyes explode right in their skulls. A nasty sight. He stomped around for a while, shouting gibberish that made people's ears bleed if they had been fast enough to avert their gaze. Then he touched a person and actually killed them physically, and it's like he was never there. In his place a baby lay on the ground. The horrors didn't stop there, though. Anyone carrying six or more objects with them suddenly had 99 of those objects on their person. This caused its own share of deaths. Those that survived reported hallucinations and blurred vision, before eventually turning into the same type of terror as him. A blurry, blocky mess, wandering the streets crying lo, lo, m'issi ngo'n! We all kind of just deal with it though, because if you're real careful you can get 99 of something really expensive. (Not my best, only some people will get this one)	Rise. Isn't it a strong word? Rise. A word that binds and blinds men and sinners.The dusty clock and wind chime.Ceremonious and harmonic. That's what he told me. Rise. Did I know?Did I suspect?That far away land called memories,did I know it then?I don't know.Time no longer held a definition to me.It slips but with a fond kindness.But I know that I'm sick of waiting.He told me to live.He told me to wait.I remember it ringing with the nail. Rise. But he has abandoned me.Whether of neglect of his subject or disgust I know not.But the world needed to know the truth.The truth that is wavering. So I no longer hide among them.I no longer lie.Generations passed without lament while I sit and dine and hide.They knelt among the ashes and beg without reward saves the one they made for themselves. But I will give him time.I will give him doubt.The words rang among the bullets that fell behind the world's curtain as it wets my face. "250 years!I'll be waiting!Please!Do not abandon us!" After the words were said,I had waited.After all that is a son's duty.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	It's been ages, quite literally. I've reached the incredible age of 250 years. And I'm still kicking like a 40 years old. Modern medicine (and probably the right genes) are quite a gift. So here I'm, with my family and quite a lot of cameramen, all reunited to see me blow some stupid candles in celebration of my birthday. It's not that I dislike parties, but after having more than a hundred, it gets repetitive. The issue comes when I blow at the candles, and everything goes dark. And I don't mean the wax-covered cake; I mean the whole damned building. Everything is gone dark, and nothing is moving. Out of curiosity, I stand up from the chair I'm sitting on to touch my great-great-grandson. A jolly kid, he has just become a century old, but his face is that of a college student. I poke my finger against his chest. Nothing. Are they playing a joke on me? Damn, not on my watch. And I poke his eye. But there is no reaction. A sound startles me. Some kind of window has appeared over the cake, like those on those old physical computers. It reads "Please note that Humanity.god is not free soulware. After a 250 years trial period you must either buy a license or remove it from your body". There are some buttons on the side, but I can't read what they say. A chill goes through my spine as a hand lands on my back. -Hey buddy! How'd you manage to get that old? · Me? I don't really know. This shit is freaking me out so much. -Oh, sorry, I forgot. You have to click on that "close" button. ·well, thank you! Wait! Who^are^you^? -Grandpa?! Who are you speaking with? ·Oh, what? -You fell asleep and started to say some gibberish. ·Bah, never mind that! Just some old man rumblings. Anyway, where can I get some cake?	Rise. Isn't it a strong word? Rise. A word that binds and blinds men and sinners.The dusty clock and wind chime.Ceremonious and harmonic. That's what he told me. Rise. Did I know?Did I suspect?That far away land called memories,did I know it then?I don't know.Time no longer held a definition to me.It slips but with a fond kindness.But I know that I'm sick of waiting.He told me to live.He told me to wait.I remember it ringing with the nail. Rise. But he has abandoned me.Whether of neglect of his subject or disgust I know not.But the world needed to know the truth.The truth that is wavering. So I no longer hide among them.I no longer lie.Generations passed without lament while I sit and dine and hide.They knelt among the ashes and beg without reward saves the one they made for themselves. But I will give him time.I will give him doubt.The words rang among the bullets that fell behind the world's curtain as it wets my face. "250 years!I'll be waiting!Please!Do not abandon us!" After the words were said,I had waited.After all that is a son's duty.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	No one was supposed to get this old. I never expected to reach 250 years. When I was born, life expectancy was less than 100. Despite my ridiculous age, I still remain in perfect health. Something is wrong though. I can feel something bad approaching, getting closer with every second. Our advances in technology throughout the years have allowed for this achievement, and many more, but one thing we never mastered was time itself. It's always moving forward, each passing moment bringing us closer to an inevitable future. We are part of a program, a universe simulation, created by someone outside. Everything that exists requires a script in order to function. Every time the Earth completes a circle around the Sun, a person's age variable goes up by one. People say I am around 250 years old. It's been so long they've forgotten the exact year, but I know. I turned 250 almost six years ago. My final birthday is today. I will not die, but it will feel like death. My memories will be stripped away, all of my experiences, my achievements, gone in an instant. All of it reset to zero.	Rise. Isn't it a strong word? Rise. A word that binds and blinds men and sinners.The dusty clock and wind chime.Ceremonious and harmonic. That's what he told me. Rise. Did I know?Did I suspect?That far away land called memories,did I know it then?I don't know.Time no longer held a definition to me.It slips but with a fond kindness.But I know that I'm sick of waiting.He told me to live.He told me to wait.I remember it ringing with the nail. Rise. But he has abandoned me.Whether of neglect of his subject or disgust I know not.But the world needed to know the truth.The truth that is wavering. So I no longer hide among them.I no longer lie.Generations passed without lament while I sit and dine and hide.They knelt among the ashes and beg without reward saves the one they made for themselves. But I will give him time.I will give him doubt.The words rang among the bullets that fell behind the world's curtain as it wets my face. "250 years!I'll be waiting!Please!Do not abandon us!" After the words were said,I had waited.After all that is a son's duty.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	Grandpa's acting weird. Well, great-great-great-great grandpa. I can't quite put my finger on it, but he seems a little off. No one else has noticed. It's like he's... regressing. I don't know, maybe it's just the territory that comes with being the oldest person on earth. The first one to reach 250 years, no doubt. He's blowing out the candles, bless him. You have to admire modern day science; he doesn't look a day over 50. Although, the candles don't seem to be going out. Seriously, they just seem to be- oh god dog ho -eb ot mees tsuj yeht ,ylsuoireS .tuo gniog eb ot mees t'nod seldnac eht ,hguohtlA .05 revo yad a kool t'nseod eh ;ecneics yad nredom erimda ot evah uoY .mih sselb ,seldnac eht tuo gniwolb s'eH .tbuod on ,sraey 052 hcaer ot eno tsrif ehT .htrae no nosrep tsedlo eht gnieb htiw semoc taht yrotirret eht tsuj s'ti ebyam ,wonk t'nod I .gnisserger ...s'eh ekil s'tI .deciton sah esle eno oN .ffo elttil a smees eh tub ,ti no regnif ym tup etiuq t'nac I .apdnarg taerg-taerg-taerg-taerg ,lleW .driew gnitca s'apdnarG	Rise. Isn't it a strong word? Rise. A word that binds and blinds men and sinners.The dusty clock and wind chime.Ceremonious and harmonic. That's what he told me. Rise. Did I know?Did I suspect?That far away land called memories,did I know it then?I don't know.Time no longer held a definition to me.It slips but with a fond kindness.But I know that I'm sick of waiting.He told me to live.He told me to wait.I remember it ringing with the nail. Rise. But he has abandoned me.Whether of neglect of his subject or disgust I know not.But the world needed to know the truth.The truth that is wavering. So I no longer hide among them.I no longer lie.Generations passed without lament while I sit and dine and hide.They knelt among the ashes and beg without reward saves the one they made for themselves. But I will give him time.I will give him doubt.The words rang among the bullets that fell behind the world's curtain as it wets my face. "250 years!I'll be waiting!Please!Do not abandon us!" After the words were said,I had waited.After all that is a son's duty.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	“How’d you miss one?” the demon demanded. “I thought you lot were infallible.” “There’s seven billion of them,” the angel replied miserably. “God hasn’t made more of us since the Flood. How were we supposed to keep up?” “Yeah, but there weren’t seven billion of ‘em a hundred years ago. Lester would’ve been what, a hundred and fifty back then? Enough to raise a few eyebrows at least. Who’s running your accounting department?” They stood just out of sight beneath a shaded oak tree, watching old man Lester Winston bounce his great, great, great, great, great granddaughter on his knee. For two hundred and fifty, he looked remarkably spry. A gray beard covered his neck and half his cheeks. Through some divine blessing, he still had most of his hair. A blue fondant tiered birthday cake waited on a folding table with three numbered candles. At least a hundred people had turned up for the blessed event. Children wearing 'Happy Birthday Grandpa Lester' tee-shirts chased each other around the park throwing water balloons. “I thought Lester was slated for the basement.” The angel glanced at the demon. “Is there some deal I don’t know about?” The demon snorted. “You think Lucifer would break that promise? After what happened last time?” “Abraham ruined it for everyone,” the angel said glumly. “Funny how that never made it in the bible. God was perfectly happy letting ‘em live a thousand years until he showed up. Remember Cainan?” The demon nodded with a smile. “Always had a jug of wine waiting when I stopped by. Happy to share his daughters too, no matter what time of day. Good fellow. Nine hundred and ten years old when he died. Left seven pregnant widows behind.” The angel slumped against the tree. “Now we’ve got this to look forward to.” The demon looked thoughtful. “Maybe not.” “What do you mean, maybe not?” “Who knows about this in Heaven?” “Just me and Jill in accounting. But I can’t go back and lie.” “Why not?” The angel glared at him. “Because I don’t want to fall.” “Oh, hogwash. One little lie won’t make you fall.” The angel waved his hand at the old man. “One little lie?” “You know what’s coming,” the demon said. He glanced at the sky as if expecting the heavens to open that very minute. “And what happens when God gets smite-y.” The demon checked his watch. “In ten minutes, Lester’s going to start changing.” “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” the angel mused. The demon snorted. “Right.” “Maybe we could just…you know, kill him in some way. Subtly.” The demon stared at him. “An unscheduled death? You want to bring both heaven and hell down on us?” The angel sat against the tree and uttered a long sigh. “How long now?” The demon checked his watch. “Eight minutes.” Nine minutes later, Lester blew out his three candles to thunderous applause and a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. The Angel held his breath, not that he needed breathe, but the moment seemed to call for it. Lester kicked his shoes off. “Here it comes,” the demon muttered. Then he took off his socks. Next came his shirt. By this time, family members were trying to restrain him. The children either gawked or laughed nervously. At two hundred and fifty years, the new prime of his life, Lester was stronger than any of them. “Now he’s got his trousers off,” the demon observed. Lester propped his hands on his hips and proclaimed: “Who wants to go first?” “Oh no,” the angel said, stepping away from the tree. “Abraham didn’t have it this bad. It’s full regression, isn’t it?” Members of Lester’s family tried to hold him but he broke free and raced into the park, right towards the gazebo holding the Shreveport Ladies Auxiliary Club’s annual picnic. “Stop him,” the angel cried. “He can’t touch anyone who’s not family!” “You think I don’t know how this works?” groused the demon. He chased after Lester and tackled him to the ground. The man’s skin was burning hot; sweat dripped down his forehead. Bits of pine cone lodged in his beard. Strong as Lester was, he was no match for a demon. The angel reached them and pulled Lester to his feet. “There, it’s all right now,” the angel said, throwing his coat around Lester’s shoulders. He kept his wings tucked down his trousers for just such occasions. “We’ll take you somewhere nice and safe and figure this out.” Lester’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. “Oh bloody hell,” the demon muttered. He struck Lester across the face and let him crumple at their feet. “What’d you do that for? the angel demanded. “What, you want the change to happen in front of all these people?” The demon hooked his hand under Lester’s arm. Members of the family had almost reached them. “Grab his arm. I know where to take him.” Lester head-butted the demon. He reeled back, cursing and gripping his head. His Blue Devils baseball cap fell off, revealing curled horns for the world to see. Before the angel could react, Lester clawed at his shirt, ripping off the buttons and freeing his wings. Gasps and shouts erupted from members of the Shreveport Ladies' Auxiliary Club and the hundred or so guests at Lester’s two hundred and fiftieth birthday celebration. Lester charged away, screaming manically that God was trying to kill him. "That’s it then,” the demon muttered, placing the cap back on his head. “We’re in for it now.” "Come on," the angel said, grasping at the tattered remains of his shirt. "Get after him!" The sky darkened. Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by a rumble of thunder. “Think this is natural?” the demon shouted over a sudden onslaught of hail. At least the storm distracted the Shreveport Ladies Auxiliary Club and Lester’s birthday celebrators. They raced to the gazebo as a group, shielding themselves from the ice and splatters of Mrs. Hagfield’s prize-winning potato salad. The angel conjured another coat and threw it over his shoulders. His cell phone rang. “Don’t answer that,” the demon said, grabbing him by his collar. “Lester can’t have gone far.” ___________________________________________________________ Lester was changing. He liked it. His muscles felt strong. His back didn’t ache and he could bend his knees all the way down. That hadn’t happened in what, sixty years or more? They called him a miracle of modern medicine, wrote studies, conducted interviews and performed non-invasive experiments. For a while, it was fun. Now all Lester cared about was fine whiskey, (when his nagging great, great, great granddaughter Emily didn’t lock the liquor cabinet,) a good steak, and Andy Griffith. Andy was the most important part of his day. Andy’s time was the time to be alive. Arguably the 1920s were also good, but that always reminded him of the 1930s, and those years sucked. He didn’t think much about the Civil War. Or the American Revolution. God, how he hated pesky graduate students who thought they could just march up to his front door and demand an interview. So what if he’d seen George Washington in the flesh? So what if he’d been there at the first presidential inauguration? Who in America hadn’t seen a picture of the first president? All one had to do was look at a dollar bill. For a while he handed them out, telling the scholars it was all they needed to know. When that got too expensive he switched to quarters. Now he hunched under a bridge, doing knee bends, wearing a very nice coat, wanting above all things to find a girl. Libido wasn’t something he’d thought about in sixty-five years. A whole other man’s lifetime! When students asked how it felt living so long, he told them that little fact. It shut them up right quick. There was one girl, he recalled. Three or four, in fact, who looked rather nice. He had their numbers tacked to his refrigerator at home. He’d go there and find them. Maybe it was finally time for an interview. If it lead to something else…dinner, wine, romance, well, that was also just fine. __________________________________________________ “He’s not here,” the angel grumbled, flopping into Lester’s oversized couch. The entire décor suffered from 1970’s nostalgia. Mustard colored furniture and brown paneled walls. Orange table lamps and ashtrays on every surface. “Now don’t give up hope,” the demon said. He winced when the angel’s cell phone buzzed again. “Just turn the bloody thing off, will you?” “That’s twenty calls in twenty minutes,” the angel said, staring at the flashing screen. “How many have you got?” “I switched mine off three hours ago.” The demon plucked a card off the refrigerator. “Hello, what’s this?” The angel stood. “What’s what?” The demon showed him the card. “It’s got her picture on it and everything.” “You don’t think…” “Why not? The death touch has probably worn off by now.” “It’d be better if it hadn’t.” “Hang on,” the demon said. “There’s a bunch of these cards.” “We’ll have to check every one.” ____________________________________________	Rise. Isn't it a strong word? Rise. A word that binds and blinds men and sinners.The dusty clock and wind chime.Ceremonious and harmonic. That's what he told me. Rise. Did I know?Did I suspect?That far away land called memories,did I know it then?I don't know.Time no longer held a definition to me.It slips but with a fond kindness.But I know that I'm sick of waiting.He told me to live.He told me to wait.I remember it ringing with the nail. Rise. But he has abandoned me.Whether of neglect of his subject or disgust I know not.But the world needed to know the truth.The truth that is wavering. So I no longer hide among them.I no longer lie.Generations passed without lament while I sit and dine and hide.They knelt among the ashes and beg without reward saves the one they made for themselves. But I will give him time.I will give him doubt.The words rang among the bullets that fell behind the world's curtain as it wets my face. "250 years!I'll be waiting!Please!Do not abandon us!" After the words were said,I had waited.After all that is a son's duty.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	"Fuck him up, Dad!" shouted Jesus, standing at the side of his father clutching a beer while peering at the super sweet 220" Mega-Ultra-HD Live Earth Stream displayed on the wall. "You just going to take this shit?" asked Saint Peter. "Dude has been dodging my gates for over a century." "Shut up, both of you. Seriously, shut up. I can't just kill this guy. It would be like implementing a level cap on players. You don't just die when you hit 250, that's not how I intended things to work." >"Happy birthday, dear Steve! Happy birthday to you!" >"I can't believe you made it to 250, man! First human in history!" "Listen to that. They're spitting in your face, Dad. Shitting on your creation. Death just thrown out the window so dickbags like him can make it to two hundy." "Two hundy? Two hundy, son? Do you want to be re-crucified?" "Why you gotta' say mean shit?" "You gotta patch this, Big Man," stated Saint Peter, "Release Notes: Level 250 =Death." "I just need more time to think." "It's only going to get worse. Have you seen what they're developing down there? How am I supposed to bounce the gates when there isn't anyone to bounce? Have you thought this through?" "Your job as my bouncer is the least of my worries right now. Why for a second would you think that is high up on my priority list?" "Excuse me for thinking you cared about your friends." "OK! OK!" God put his head in to this hands, "I'll give him an illness or something, have him pass away in the next couple of days. That'll buy me some time to figure this out." > "Steve, are you OK? You don't look so good, buddy." > "Oh my God! Claire, call an ambulance quick, Steve's head has fallen off!" Jesus shrieked, "Oh, fuck! Dad, what the have you done?!" Saint Peter began to panic, "Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!" "THIS IS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS WHEN YOU DISTRACT ME. I CAN'T CONCENTRATE!" > "Someone put his head back on!" > One of the distressed family members made a move to pick up Steve's head, "His eyes are still moving!" > Steve spoke, "Somebody help me." "WHY ISN'T HE DEAD, DAD?!" "I don't know! Everyone shut the fuck up!" > "911? My Grandpa's head has fallen off! No, he's still alive!" "Reattach his head, God!" "I can't just fucking reattach his head now. We're beyond reattaching his head, Peter!" "Then make the rest of their heads fall off, Dad!" God panicked. Steve's arms fell off his still standing body. > "JESUS CHRIST, STEVE'S ARMS!" "You're making it worse, Dad! They're pinning this on me!" "I don't think having his arms fall off was the right move, Big Man." "I fucking know, Peter. I fucking know that wasn't the right move. Do you think I meant for that to happen? I'm panicking here. Look at me. I'm panicking." > "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!?!" "THIS IS FUCKING HAPPENING, LADY, BECAUSE YOU FUCKS GOT GREEDY AND DECIDED TO LIVE FOREVER." A menu screen quickly opened on the Earth Stream and God hastily clicked the 'Exit to Desktop' option. He then opened up his 'Earth' folder and deleted 'Save File #3819'. He sat in his chair panting, trying to catch his breath as Jesus and Saint Peter looked on wide-eyed and in distress. "Well, fucked that up, didn't I?" Jesus and Peter nodded solemnly. "Go grab Adam and Eve." God double clicked Earth and selected 'New Game'. **** I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.	Rise. Isn't it a strong word? Rise. A word that binds and blinds men and sinners.The dusty clock and wind chime.Ceremonious and harmonic. That's what he told me. Rise. Did I know?Did I suspect?That far away land called memories,did I know it then?I don't know.Time no longer held a definition to me.It slips but with a fond kindness.But I know that I'm sick of waiting.He told me to live.He told me to wait.I remember it ringing with the nail. Rise. But he has abandoned me.Whether of neglect of his subject or disgust I know not.But the world needed to know the truth.The truth that is wavering. So I no longer hide among them.I no longer lie.Generations passed without lament while I sit and dine and hide.They knelt among the ashes and beg without reward saves the one they made for themselves. But I will give him time.I will give him doubt.The words rang among the bullets that fell behind the world's curtain as it wets my face. "250 years!I'll be waiting!Please!Do not abandon us!" After the words were said,I had waited.After all that is a son's duty.
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	No one was supposed to get this old. I never expected to reach 250 years. When I was born, life expectancy was less than 100. Despite my ridiculous age, I still remain in perfect health. Something is wrong though. I can feel something bad approaching, getting closer with every second. Our advances in technology throughout the years have allowed for this achievement, and many more, but one thing we never mastered was time itself. It's always moving forward, each passing moment bringing us closer to an inevitable future. We are part of a program, a universe simulation, created by someone outside. Everything that exists requires a script in order to function. Every time the Earth completes a circle around the Sun, a person's age variable goes up by one. People say I am around 250 years old. It's been so long they've forgotten the exact year, but I know. I turned 250 almost six years ago. My final birthday is today. I will not die, but it will feel like death. My memories will be stripped away, all of my experiences, my achievements, gone in an instant. All of it reset to zero.	It's been ages, quite literally. I've reached the incredible age of 250 years. And I'm still kicking like a 40 years old. Modern medicine (and probably the right genes) are quite a gift. So here I'm, with my family and quite a lot of cameramen, all reunited to see me blow some stupid candles in celebration of my birthday. It's not that I dislike parties, but after having more than a hundred, it gets repetitive. The issue comes when I blow at the candles, and everything goes dark. And I don't mean the wax-covered cake; I mean the whole damned building. Everything is gone dark, and nothing is moving. Out of curiosity, I stand up from the chair I'm sitting on to touch my great-great-grandson. A jolly kid, he has just become a century old, but his face is that of a college student. I poke my finger against his chest. Nothing. Are they playing a joke on me? Damn, not on my watch. And I poke his eye. But there is no reaction. A sound startles me. Some kind of window has appeared over the cake, like those on those old physical computers. It reads "Please note that Humanity.god is not free soulware. After a 250 years trial period you must either buy a license or remove it from your body". There are some buttons on the side, but I can't read what they say. A chill goes through my spine as a hand lands on my back. -Hey buddy! How'd you manage to get that old? · Me? I don't really know. This shit is freaking me out so much. -Oh, sorry, I forgot. You have to click on that "close" button. ·well, thank you! Wait! Who^are^you^? -Grandpa?! Who are you speaking with? ·Oh, what? -You fell asleep and started to say some gibberish. ·Bah, never mind that! Just some old man rumblings. Anyway, where can I get some cake?
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	“How’d you miss one?” the demon demanded. “I thought you lot were infallible.” “There’s seven billion of them,” the angel replied miserably. “God hasn’t made more of us since the Flood. How were we supposed to keep up?” “Yeah, but there weren’t seven billion of ‘em a hundred years ago. Lester would’ve been what, a hundred and fifty back then? Enough to raise a few eyebrows at least. Who’s running your accounting department?” They stood just out of sight beneath a shaded oak tree, watching old man Lester Winston bounce his great, great, great, great, great granddaughter on his knee. For two hundred and fifty, he looked remarkably spry. A gray beard covered his neck and half his cheeks. Through some divine blessing, he still had most of his hair. A blue fondant tiered birthday cake waited on a folding table with three numbered candles. At least a hundred people had turned up for the blessed event. Children wearing 'Happy Birthday Grandpa Lester' tee-shirts chased each other around the park throwing water balloons. “I thought Lester was slated for the basement.” The angel glanced at the demon. “Is there some deal I don’t know about?” The demon snorted. “You think Lucifer would break that promise? After what happened last time?” “Abraham ruined it for everyone,” the angel said glumly. “Funny how that never made it in the bible. God was perfectly happy letting ‘em live a thousand years until he showed up. Remember Cainan?” The demon nodded with a smile. “Always had a jug of wine waiting when I stopped by. Happy to share his daughters too, no matter what time of day. Good fellow. Nine hundred and ten years old when he died. Left seven pregnant widows behind.” The angel slumped against the tree. “Now we’ve got this to look forward to.” The demon looked thoughtful. “Maybe not.” “What do you mean, maybe not?” “Who knows about this in Heaven?” “Just me and Jill in accounting. But I can’t go back and lie.” “Why not?” The angel glared at him. “Because I don’t want to fall.” “Oh, hogwash. One little lie won’t make you fall.” The angel waved his hand at the old man. “One little lie?” “You know what’s coming,” the demon said. He glanced at the sky as if expecting the heavens to open that very minute. “And what happens when God gets smite-y.” The demon checked his watch. “In ten minutes, Lester’s going to start changing.” “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” the angel mused. The demon snorted. “Right.” “Maybe we could just…you know, kill him in some way. Subtly.” The demon stared at him. “An unscheduled death? You want to bring both heaven and hell down on us?” The angel sat against the tree and uttered a long sigh. “How long now?” The demon checked his watch. “Eight minutes.” Nine minutes later, Lester blew out his three candles to thunderous applause and a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. The Angel held his breath, not that he needed breathe, but the moment seemed to call for it. Lester kicked his shoes off. “Here it comes,” the demon muttered. Then he took off his socks. Next came his shirt. By this time, family members were trying to restrain him. The children either gawked or laughed nervously. At two hundred and fifty years, the new prime of his life, Lester was stronger than any of them. “Now he’s got his trousers off,” the demon observed. Lester propped his hands on his hips and proclaimed: “Who wants to go first?” “Oh no,” the angel said, stepping away from the tree. “Abraham didn’t have it this bad. It’s full regression, isn’t it?” Members of Lester’s family tried to hold him but he broke free and raced into the park, right towards the gazebo holding the Shreveport Ladies Auxiliary Club’s annual picnic. “Stop him,” the angel cried. “He can’t touch anyone who’s not family!” “You think I don’t know how this works?” groused the demon. He chased after Lester and tackled him to the ground. The man’s skin was burning hot; sweat dripped down his forehead. Bits of pine cone lodged in his beard. Strong as Lester was, he was no match for a demon. The angel reached them and pulled Lester to his feet. “There, it’s all right now,” the angel said, throwing his coat around Lester’s shoulders. He kept his wings tucked down his trousers for just such occasions. “We’ll take you somewhere nice and safe and figure this out.” Lester’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. “Oh bloody hell,” the demon muttered. He struck Lester across the face and let him crumple at their feet. “What’d you do that for? the angel demanded. “What, you want the change to happen in front of all these people?” The demon hooked his hand under Lester’s arm. Members of the family had almost reached them. “Grab his arm. I know where to take him.” Lester head-butted the demon. He reeled back, cursing and gripping his head. His Blue Devils baseball cap fell off, revealing curled horns for the world to see. Before the angel could react, Lester clawed at his shirt, ripping off the buttons and freeing his wings. Gasps and shouts erupted from members of the Shreveport Ladies' Auxiliary Club and the hundred or so guests at Lester’s two hundred and fiftieth birthday celebration. Lester charged away, screaming manically that God was trying to kill him. "That’s it then,” the demon muttered, placing the cap back on his head. “We’re in for it now.” "Come on," the angel said, grasping at the tattered remains of his shirt. "Get after him!" The sky darkened. Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by a rumble of thunder. “Think this is natural?” the demon shouted over a sudden onslaught of hail. At least the storm distracted the Shreveport Ladies Auxiliary Club and Lester’s birthday celebrators. They raced to the gazebo as a group, shielding themselves from the ice and splatters of Mrs. Hagfield’s prize-winning potato salad. The angel conjured another coat and threw it over his shoulders. His cell phone rang. “Don’t answer that,” the demon said, grabbing him by his collar. “Lester can’t have gone far.” ___________________________________________________________ Lester was changing. He liked it. His muscles felt strong. His back didn’t ache and he could bend his knees all the way down. That hadn’t happened in what, sixty years or more? They called him a miracle of modern medicine, wrote studies, conducted interviews and performed non-invasive experiments. For a while, it was fun. Now all Lester cared about was fine whiskey, (when his nagging great, great, great granddaughter Emily didn’t lock the liquor cabinet,) a good steak, and Andy Griffith. Andy was the most important part of his day. Andy’s time was the time to be alive. Arguably the 1920s were also good, but that always reminded him of the 1930s, and those years sucked. He didn’t think much about the Civil War. Or the American Revolution. God, how he hated pesky graduate students who thought they could just march up to his front door and demand an interview. So what if he’d seen George Washington in the flesh? So what if he’d been there at the first presidential inauguration? Who in America hadn’t seen a picture of the first president? All one had to do was look at a dollar bill. For a while he handed them out, telling the scholars it was all they needed to know. When that got too expensive he switched to quarters. Now he hunched under a bridge, doing knee bends, wearing a very nice coat, wanting above all things to find a girl. Libido wasn’t something he’d thought about in sixty-five years. A whole other man’s lifetime! When students asked how it felt living so long, he told them that little fact. It shut them up right quick. There was one girl, he recalled. Three or four, in fact, who looked rather nice. He had their numbers tacked to his refrigerator at home. He’d go there and find them. Maybe it was finally time for an interview. If it lead to something else…dinner, wine, romance, well, that was also just fine. __________________________________________________ “He’s not here,” the angel grumbled, flopping into Lester’s oversized couch. The entire décor suffered from 1970’s nostalgia. Mustard colored furniture and brown paneled walls. Orange table lamps and ashtrays on every surface. “Now don’t give up hope,” the demon said. He winced when the angel’s cell phone buzzed again. “Just turn the bloody thing off, will you?” “That’s twenty calls in twenty minutes,” the angel said, staring at the flashing screen. “How many have you got?” “I switched mine off three hours ago.” The demon plucked a card off the refrigerator. “Hello, what’s this?” The angel stood. “What’s what?” The demon showed him the card. “It’s got her picture on it and everything.” “You don’t think…” “Why not? The death touch has probably worn off by now.” “It’d be better if it hadn’t.” “Hang on,” the demon said. “There’s a bunch of these cards.” “We’ll have to check every one.” ____________________________________________	It's been ages, quite literally. I've reached the incredible age of 250 years. And I'm still kicking like a 40 years old. Modern medicine (and probably the right genes) are quite a gift. So here I'm, with my family and quite a lot of cameramen, all reunited to see me blow some stupid candles in celebration of my birthday. It's not that I dislike parties, but after having more than a hundred, it gets repetitive. The issue comes when I blow at the candles, and everything goes dark. And I don't mean the wax-covered cake; I mean the whole damned building. Everything is gone dark, and nothing is moving. Out of curiosity, I stand up from the chair I'm sitting on to touch my great-great-grandson. A jolly kid, he has just become a century old, but his face is that of a college student. I poke my finger against his chest. Nothing. Are they playing a joke on me? Damn, not on my watch. And I poke his eye. But there is no reaction. A sound startles me. Some kind of window has appeared over the cake, like those on those old physical computers. It reads "Please note that Humanity.god is not free soulware. After a 250 years trial period you must either buy a license or remove it from your body". There are some buttons on the side, but I can't read what they say. A chill goes through my spine as a hand lands on my back. -Hey buddy! How'd you manage to get that old? · Me? I don't really know. This shit is freaking me out so much. -Oh, sorry, I forgot. You have to click on that "close" button. ·well, thank you! Wait! Who^are^you^? -Grandpa?! Who are you speaking with? ·Oh, what? -You fell asleep and started to say some gibberish. ·Bah, never mind that! Just some old man rumblings. Anyway, where can I get some cake?
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	“How’d you miss one?” the demon demanded. “I thought you lot were infallible.” “There’s seven billion of them,” the angel replied miserably. “God hasn’t made more of us since the Flood. How were we supposed to keep up?” “Yeah, but there weren’t seven billion of ‘em a hundred years ago. Lester would’ve been what, a hundred and fifty back then? Enough to raise a few eyebrows at least. Who’s running your accounting department?” They stood just out of sight beneath a shaded oak tree, watching old man Lester Winston bounce his great, great, great, great, great granddaughter on his knee. For two hundred and fifty, he looked remarkably spry. A gray beard covered his neck and half his cheeks. Through some divine blessing, he still had most of his hair. A blue fondant tiered birthday cake waited on a folding table with three numbered candles. At least a hundred people had turned up for the blessed event. Children wearing 'Happy Birthday Grandpa Lester' tee-shirts chased each other around the park throwing water balloons. “I thought Lester was slated for the basement.” The angel glanced at the demon. “Is there some deal I don’t know about?” The demon snorted. “You think Lucifer would break that promise? After what happened last time?” “Abraham ruined it for everyone,” the angel said glumly. “Funny how that never made it in the bible. God was perfectly happy letting ‘em live a thousand years until he showed up. Remember Cainan?” The demon nodded with a smile. “Always had a jug of wine waiting when I stopped by. Happy to share his daughters too, no matter what time of day. Good fellow. Nine hundred and ten years old when he died. Left seven pregnant widows behind.” The angel slumped against the tree. “Now we’ve got this to look forward to.” The demon looked thoughtful. “Maybe not.” “What do you mean, maybe not?” “Who knows about this in Heaven?” “Just me and Jill in accounting. But I can’t go back and lie.” “Why not?” The angel glared at him. “Because I don’t want to fall.” “Oh, hogwash. One little lie won’t make you fall.” The angel waved his hand at the old man. “One little lie?” “You know what’s coming,” the demon said. He glanced at the sky as if expecting the heavens to open that very minute. “And what happens when God gets smite-y.” The demon checked his watch. “In ten minutes, Lester’s going to start changing.” “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” the angel mused. The demon snorted. “Right.” “Maybe we could just…you know, kill him in some way. Subtly.” The demon stared at him. “An unscheduled death? You want to bring both heaven and hell down on us?” The angel sat against the tree and uttered a long sigh. “How long now?” The demon checked his watch. “Eight minutes.” Nine minutes later, Lester blew out his three candles to thunderous applause and a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. The Angel held his breath, not that he needed breathe, but the moment seemed to call for it. Lester kicked his shoes off. “Here it comes,” the demon muttered. Then he took off his socks. Next came his shirt. By this time, family members were trying to restrain him. The children either gawked or laughed nervously. At two hundred and fifty years, the new prime of his life, Lester was stronger than any of them. “Now he’s got his trousers off,” the demon observed. Lester propped his hands on his hips and proclaimed: “Who wants to go first?” “Oh no,” the angel said, stepping away from the tree. “Abraham didn’t have it this bad. It’s full regression, isn’t it?” Members of Lester’s family tried to hold him but he broke free and raced into the park, right towards the gazebo holding the Shreveport Ladies Auxiliary Club’s annual picnic. “Stop him,” the angel cried. “He can’t touch anyone who’s not family!” “You think I don’t know how this works?” groused the demon. He chased after Lester and tackled him to the ground. The man’s skin was burning hot; sweat dripped down his forehead. Bits of pine cone lodged in his beard. Strong as Lester was, he was no match for a demon. The angel reached them and pulled Lester to his feet. “There, it’s all right now,” the angel said, throwing his coat around Lester’s shoulders. He kept his wings tucked down his trousers for just such occasions. “We’ll take you somewhere nice and safe and figure this out.” Lester’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. “Oh bloody hell,” the demon muttered. He struck Lester across the face and let him crumple at their feet. “What’d you do that for? the angel demanded. “What, you want the change to happen in front of all these people?” The demon hooked his hand under Lester’s arm. Members of the family had almost reached them. “Grab his arm. I know where to take him.” Lester head-butted the demon. He reeled back, cursing and gripping his head. His Blue Devils baseball cap fell off, revealing curled horns for the world to see. Before the angel could react, Lester clawed at his shirt, ripping off the buttons and freeing his wings. Gasps and shouts erupted from members of the Shreveport Ladies' Auxiliary Club and the hundred or so guests at Lester’s two hundred and fiftieth birthday celebration. Lester charged away, screaming manically that God was trying to kill him. "That’s it then,” the demon muttered, placing the cap back on his head. “We’re in for it now.” "Come on," the angel said, grasping at the tattered remains of his shirt. "Get after him!" The sky darkened. Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by a rumble of thunder. “Think this is natural?” the demon shouted over a sudden onslaught of hail. At least the storm distracted the Shreveport Ladies Auxiliary Club and Lester’s birthday celebrators. They raced to the gazebo as a group, shielding themselves from the ice and splatters of Mrs. Hagfield’s prize-winning potato salad. The angel conjured another coat and threw it over his shoulders. His cell phone rang. “Don’t answer that,” the demon said, grabbing him by his collar. “Lester can’t have gone far.” ___________________________________________________________ Lester was changing. He liked it. His muscles felt strong. His back didn’t ache and he could bend his knees all the way down. That hadn’t happened in what, sixty years or more? They called him a miracle of modern medicine, wrote studies, conducted interviews and performed non-invasive experiments. For a while, it was fun. Now all Lester cared about was fine whiskey, (when his nagging great, great, great granddaughter Emily didn’t lock the liquor cabinet,) a good steak, and Andy Griffith. Andy was the most important part of his day. Andy’s time was the time to be alive. Arguably the 1920s were also good, but that always reminded him of the 1930s, and those years sucked. He didn’t think much about the Civil War. Or the American Revolution. God, how he hated pesky graduate students who thought they could just march up to his front door and demand an interview. So what if he’d seen George Washington in the flesh? So what if he’d been there at the first presidential inauguration? Who in America hadn’t seen a picture of the first president? All one had to do was look at a dollar bill. For a while he handed them out, telling the scholars it was all they needed to know. When that got too expensive he switched to quarters. Now he hunched under a bridge, doing knee bends, wearing a very nice coat, wanting above all things to find a girl. Libido wasn’t something he’d thought about in sixty-five years. A whole other man’s lifetime! When students asked how it felt living so long, he told them that little fact. It shut them up right quick. There was one girl, he recalled. Three or four, in fact, who looked rather nice. He had their numbers tacked to his refrigerator at home. He’d go there and find them. Maybe it was finally time for an interview. If it lead to something else…dinner, wine, romance, well, that was also just fine. __________________________________________________ “He’s not here,” the angel grumbled, flopping into Lester’s oversized couch. The entire décor suffered from 1970’s nostalgia. Mustard colored furniture and brown paneled walls. Orange table lamps and ashtrays on every surface. “Now don’t give up hope,” the demon said. He winced when the angel’s cell phone buzzed again. “Just turn the bloody thing off, will you?” “That’s twenty calls in twenty minutes,” the angel said, staring at the flashing screen. “How many have you got?” “I switched mine off three hours ago.” The demon plucked a card off the refrigerator. “Hello, what’s this?” The angel stood. “What’s what?” The demon showed him the card. “It’s got her picture on it and everything.” “You don’t think…” “Why not? The death touch has probably worn off by now.” “It’d be better if it hadn’t.” “Hang on,” the demon said. “There’s a bunch of these cards.” “We’ll have to check every one.” ____________________________________________	Grandpa's acting weird. Well, great-great-great-great grandpa. I can't quite put my finger on it, but he seems a little off. No one else has noticed. It's like he's... regressing. I don't know, maybe it's just the territory that comes with being the oldest person on earth. The first one to reach 250 years, no doubt. He's blowing out the candles, bless him. You have to admire modern day science; he doesn't look a day over 50. Although, the candles don't seem to be going out. Seriously, they just seem to be- oh god dog ho -eb ot mees tsuj yeht ,ylsuoireS .tuo gniog eb ot mees t'nod seldnac eht ,hguohtlA .05 revo yad a kool t'nseod eh ;ecneics yad nredom erimda ot evah uoY .mih sselb ,seldnac eht tuo gniwolb s'eH .tbuod on ,sraey 052 hcaer ot eno tsrif ehT .htrae no nosrep tsedlo eht gnieb htiw semoc taht yrotirret eht tsuj s'ti ebyam ,wonk t'nod I .gnisserger ...s'eh ekil s'tI .deciton sah esle eno oN .ffo elttil a smees eh tub ,ti no regnif ym tup etiuq t'nac I .apdnarg taerg-taerg-taerg-taerg ,lleW .driew gnitca s'apdnarG
	[WP] God made a mistake when programming humans, so he added death to make sure no one would live long enough for it matter. Thanks to modern medical science, however, someone just celebrated their 250th birthday for the first time, and something about them seems...off	"Fuck him up, Dad!" shouted Jesus, standing at the side of his father clutching a beer while peering at the super sweet 220" Mega-Ultra-HD Live Earth Stream displayed on the wall. "You just going to take this shit?" asked Saint Peter. "Dude has been dodging my gates for over a century." "Shut up, both of you. Seriously, shut up. I can't just kill this guy. It would be like implementing a level cap on players. You don't just die when you hit 250, that's not how I intended things to work." >"Happy birthday, dear Steve! Happy birthday to you!" >"I can't believe you made it to 250, man! First human in history!" "Listen to that. They're spitting in your face, Dad. Shitting on your creation. Death just thrown out the window so dickbags like him can make it to two hundy." "Two hundy? Two hundy, son? Do you want to be re-crucified?" "Why you gotta' say mean shit?" "You gotta patch this, Big Man," stated Saint Peter, "Release Notes: Level 250 =Death." "I just need more time to think." "It's only going to get worse. Have you seen what they're developing down there? How am I supposed to bounce the gates when there isn't anyone to bounce? Have you thought this through?" "Your job as my bouncer is the least of my worries right now. Why for a second would you think that is high up on my priority list?" "Excuse me for thinking you cared about your friends." "OK! OK!" God put his head in to this hands, "I'll give him an illness or something, have him pass away in the next couple of days. That'll buy me some time to figure this out." > "Steve, are you OK? You don't look so good, buddy." > "Oh my God! Claire, call an ambulance quick, Steve's head has fallen off!" Jesus shrieked, "Oh, fuck! Dad, what the have you done?!" Saint Peter began to panic, "Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!" "THIS IS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS WHEN YOU DISTRACT ME. I CAN'T CONCENTRATE!" > "Someone put his head back on!" > One of the distressed family members made a move to pick up Steve's head, "His eyes are still moving!" > Steve spoke, "Somebody help me." "WHY ISN'T HE DEAD, DAD?!" "I don't know! Everyone shut the fuck up!" > "911? My Grandpa's head has fallen off! No, he's still alive!" "Reattach his head, God!" "I can't just fucking reattach his head now. We're beyond reattaching his head, Peter!" "Then make the rest of their heads fall off, Dad!" God panicked. Steve's arms fell off his still standing body. > "JESUS CHRIST, STEVE'S ARMS!" "You're making it worse, Dad! They're pinning this on me!" "I don't think having his arms fall off was the right move, Big Man." "I fucking know, Peter. I fucking know that wasn't the right move. Do you think I meant for that to happen? I'm panicking here. Look at me. I'm panicking." > "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!?!" "THIS IS FUCKING HAPPENING, LADY, BECAUSE YOU FUCKS GOT GREEDY AND DECIDED TO LIVE FOREVER." A menu screen quickly opened on the Earth Stream and God hastily clicked the 'Exit to Desktop' option. He then opened up his 'Earth' folder and deleted 'Save File #3819'. He sat in his chair panting, trying to catch his breath as Jesus and Saint Peter looked on wide-eyed and in distress. "Well, fucked that up, didn't I?" Jesus and Peter nodded solemnly. "Go grab Adam and Eve." God double clicked Earth and selected 'New Game'. **** I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.	Grandpa's acting weird. Well, great-great-great-great grandpa. I can't quite put my finger on it, but he seems a little off. No one else has noticed. It's like he's... regressing. I don't know, maybe it's just the territory that comes with being the oldest person on earth. The first one to reach 250 years, no doubt. He's blowing out the candles, bless him. You have to admire modern day science; he doesn't look a day over 50. Although, the candles don't seem to be going out. Seriously, they just seem to be- oh god dog ho -eb ot mees tsuj yeht ,ylsuoireS .tuo gniog eb ot mees t'nod seldnac eht ,hguohtlA .05 revo yad a kool t'nseod eh ;ecneics yad nredom erimda ot evah uoY .mih sselb ,seldnac eht tuo gniwolb s'eH .tbuod on ,sraey 052 hcaer ot eno tsrif ehT .htrae no nosrep tsedlo eht gnieb htiw semoc taht yrotirret eht tsuj s'ti ebyam ,wonk t'nod I .gnisserger ...s'eh ekil s'tI .deciton sah esle eno oN .ffo elttil a smees eh tub ,ti no regnif ym tup etiuq t'nac I .apdnarg taerg-taerg-taerg-taerg ,lleW .driew gnitca s'apdnarG
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	I groaned to myself, fighting the urge to look at the clock. My companion glanced up and asked "What is it this time?" I rolled my eyes. "Nothing, really. Just another person reversed the destinations. Now I have to contact them to fix it." My companion nodded. Looking down at the paper, I saw that he had been dead for around a month. I scoffed, took him that long to apply for a transfer? I went to type in the name of the applicant in the system, James Mathers, but nothing came up. I looked back down at the application. I had spelled it right. There wasn't a chance he could have misspelled his own name, right? I looked him up again. Nothing. I looked back down at the paper and shook my head. "No way..." I said, and saw my companion look up once again. I switched the search from "Hell" to "Heaven" and retyped in the name. A name immediately came up. James Mathers has been in heaven for just a month. I felt my jaw drop. "What is it?" my companion asked. For a moment, I could only shake my head. "He's really in Heaven. He really wants to go to Hell..." "No way!" He exclaimed, then got up to join me and look at the screen before us. I clicked on the information tab for the man, almost in fascination. James Mathers died 8/15/2016 in a car accident. He was in the passenger seat when the vehicle got caught in flooding when he drowned. I clicked on some other links and saw he was in his mid-30s, he didn't have kids, and his parents were still alive. He wasn't married at the time of his death, but he was engaged to be. His fiancée was driving the vehicle, but she lived. I took a moment to lean back in my seat and crossed my arms. I turned to my companion. "What do you make of this?" I asked him. He continued to click on the screen, but shrugged. "I don't know man. I've never seen this before." I felt the same. I remember when I first got this job, around 3500 years ago. I remember the first application I received and then denied. I've read about some great lives, people who should have made it to Heaven, but one little affair stood between them and the pearly gates. But I had never seen someone actually want to go to Hell. I was interrupted by my companion who sucked in through his teeth. "Woah. Think I found out why." He stepped back so I could read. On the screen was the same kind of information page, but for a Liz Baker. Her date of death was last week, 9/20/2016. She committed suicide and was in Hell, one of the confinement rooms, where she had to relive the day of her death for all of eternity. She probably wouldn't even fill out a transfer because she held guilt for her actions, which was common for those that commit suicide. Reading further, I saw that she was James' fiancée. She was driving the vehicle when they were swept away. She was in a coma for 9 days after that, but she woke up perfectly fine. Bruised and a little sore, but fine. "Woah..." I agreed. My companion returned to his desk and I typed in the computer some more. I requested a visit with James before finishing the paperwork. There was no way I could live with him going to Hell, but the least I could do was talk to him about it. Not long after, I saw a tall black man knock on the office's open door. "James?" I asked. When he nodded, I gestured to the chair in front of me. When he sat down, I saw that he looked awful. I have seen plenty of people from Hell look as if they were wasting away, but this man was from Heaven. He should look...well...Heavenly. "Are you going to transfer me?" He asked. I shook my head. "Probably not. I just wanted to talk to about why you wanted to go." "Liz." He said simply. His bloodshot eyes looked so empty. "Well, in your Heaven, don't you have a Heavenly Liz?" In your Heaven, you were surrounded by everyone you loved, there would be a Liz for him, surely. He nodded. "But it's not her. And while she was living, I thought it was enough. But I know she's not here. That woman isn't My Liz." His eyes became wider and I could have sworn he was someone I had just interviewed about a transfer from Hell. He looked so dead inside. "She's not here." He stated again, hollow. I felt shaken. "Well, no. That's not Liz. That's a woman that your soul can perceive to be Liz. But her soul is...in Hell." He nodded. "I love her. I love her, but that woman isn't her. She doesn't sound like her. She doesn't smile like her. Fuck, she doesn't even smell like her." I honestly felt nauseated. This man was in Hell. "Look. I don't think you understand what eternity is. If I transfer you, you can't come back. You deserve Heaven, everything in your file says so. If you go to Hell, you're going to sit in a cell every day, over and over and over, and watch her kill herself. Wouldn't you think that would be worse?" James looked at me. Through me. His skin, so dark, looked increasingly pale. "Every day, I wake up next to a woman that loves me unconditionally. She looks exactly like Liz, but a mirror reflection. It's not her. My soul perceives it to be her, sure, but my heart knows better. My heart knows that every day I wake up warm, in a soft bed, next to a Liz that isn't Liz, and I feel like I'm poisoning myself." I blinked. My wife made it to Heaven with me. I looked down at the application. I felt my head turn, almost on its own accord, to the rubber stamps that read "APPROVED" and "DENIED." I stamped the paper, almost without thinking, and handed it back to James. He bowed his head and I saw a small trail of tears drop to the paper. He then folded the paper neatly and tucked it into his pocket. Without a word, he got up and walked out of the office.	"But why?" The gatekeeper screamed,as the pit opened up beneath me and I began to fall. He could never understand....none of them could. As the sounds of Heaven faded behind me and my face began to warm and then burn due to the fires of Hell,I smiled to myself-while I still could. Tis' better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven....
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	I was looking over the guy's rap sheet. "You got into heaven fair and square. Why do you want to transfer to hell?" "I did not get into heaven," the man said. "For heaven without my true love is not heaven -- it's just a pleasant waiting room." I cross-referenced his file with his wife's file. Yikes! She'd lead an exciting life. What was it about this vile woman this goody-two shoes could fall in love with? "So can I do it? Can I transfer?" "Let me input the scenario into the Sin Check," I said. "Looks like this will result in you being much less happy. There will at first be an increase in happiness in your --ahem -- lady's life but she will soon become overcome by guilt for having damned you. In the end this will result in slightly more evil than good, and the call's up to me." "And?" "Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" I asked. I stamped his paper work and gave him a receipt for his damnation. "Thank so you much! You've made me so happy!" He said with genuine excitement. He ran off to the processing center. I smiled. What could I say? I was a romantic at heart, in the sense that I enjoyed how the notion of love had been fucking people over since the dawn of humanity. Simply wonderful.	"But why?" The gatekeeper screamed,as the pit opened up beneath me and I began to fall. He could never understand....none of them could. As the sounds of Heaven faded behind me and my face began to warm and then burn due to the fires of Hell,I smiled to myself-while I still could. Tis' better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven....
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The two demons laughed, the taller one patting his friend on the shoulder. "Give those kids a good beating for me, would ya?" The smaller nodded with a toothy grin and hopped into the gaping, fiery maw they stood beside. The Gatekeeper chuckled to himself as he walked back to his post. He reviewed his files for the day, all the usual sort. He'd learned the patterns: Regular cons, tormented souls, bumbling idiots. The occasional wayward sob, looking for forgiveness. He set the book of files down on his desk, sat with a relaxing sigh, and looked up to find an unfamiliar face before him. Very unfamiliar. Bright eyed, smile from ear to ear, clothed in Sunday's best. "Good Morning, Gatekeeper." The man said, brightly. The Gatekeeper took a moment to think, delaying with a sip of coffee. "Not my usual type... here on business, then?" He placed his coffee down and grabbed a pen. "Usually He sends His correspondence lower down. Not that I can't take a message." The man nodded, almost to cover his flickering smile. "Usually true, but I am on here on personal business, I am afraid." "Hmph." The Gatekeeper flipped through his files again. "Unscheduled, as well." The man leaned forward. "I want in." The two locked stares, and the Gatekeeper shrugged. "Sure, jump on in." he thumbed over his scaled shoulder as he spoke. "Water's warm, lose the suit." The man leaned back in his chair. "Huh. You mean that's it?" "What?" The Gatekeeper took another swig of coffee. "You were expecting a no?" "Well. Kind of. Yes." The Gatekeeper shrugged again. "How much can an eternity of bliss really last? I get it. You think the thought never crossed my mind?" Before the man could respond, a strained scream came from the pit behind the Gate. He peered over the demon's shoulder and saw a mere skeleton of a man pulling himself up over the rocky edge. The Gatekeeper rose from his chair, signalling with a finger to the man at his desk. "One second." He took a sheet from his book of files, and walked over to the new arrival. "How many times does this make it now, Dylan? I've lost count." The skeleton man wheezed with ashen lungs, "No more... than a century..." He smiled crookedly up at the Gatekeeper. The demon lifted the sheet in front of Dylan's sunken face. "This your signature, Dylan?" A nod yes. "And is it signed in your blood?" Another, yet hesitant, nod. The demon rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. "Dylan. Remember what I always tell you. It must be signed in the blood--" Dylan cut in, a look of remembrance on his face. "In-in-in the blood of my Sworn Master! For I serve no other, and-and to have drawn his blood... is to... rise above servitude!" The demon nodded along as Dylan rambled out the oath. He forced the form into Dylan's chest, and wrapped a strong grip around the frail man's throat. "Yes. Now go give him hell." "See you next Tuesday!" Dylan squeaked out, before the Gatekeeper tossed him back into the endless abyss. Returning to his desk, he found the man still sitting. "What was I saying?" He asked, absently. "Right." The demon sat again, leaning back to stretch out his back. "So, I get where you're coming from. First one I've seen from up There, but law of averages be damned. Maybe you're getting to full up?" The man glanced at the Gatekeeper's book of files. "How many do you see a day?" The Gatekeeper gruffed, "I stopped counting." "And I am the first to want to...leave?" "Well, not the first of course, but the first I've seen. And, far be it for me to deny you that temptation..." He tapped one of his black horns. "Not all the glitters..." The demon trailed off and returned to his files, speaking indirectly now to the man. "You'll want to move quickly. Things tend to back up come lunchtime." There was a quiet now, no sound but the distant crackle of the Underworld. Looking up, the Gatekeeper found the man to be gone. He looked back to the pit, and saw what he thought could be a form slipping through the rising smoke... but surely he wouldn't have...	"But why?" The gatekeeper screamed,as the pit opened up beneath me and I began to fall. He could never understand....none of them could. As the sounds of Heaven faded behind me and my face began to warm and then burn due to the fires of Hell,I smiled to myself-while I still could. Tis' better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven....
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	"But why?" The gatekeeper screamed,as the pit opened up beneath me and I began to fall. He could never understand....none of them could. As the sounds of Heaven faded behind me and my face began to warm and then burn due to the fires of Hell,I smiled to myself-while I still could. Tis' better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven....
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	I was looking over the guy's rap sheet. "You got into heaven fair and square. Why do you want to transfer to hell?" "I did not get into heaven," the man said. "For heaven without my true love is not heaven -- it's just a pleasant waiting room." I cross-referenced his file with his wife's file. Yikes! She'd lead an exciting life. What was it about this vile woman this goody-two shoes could fall in love with? "So can I do it? Can I transfer?" "Let me input the scenario into the Sin Check," I said. "Looks like this will result in you being much less happy. There will at first be an increase in happiness in your --ahem -- lady's life but she will soon become overcome by guilt for having damned you. In the end this will result in slightly more evil than good, and the call's up to me." "And?" "Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" I asked. I stamped his paper work and gave him a receipt for his damnation. "Thank so you much! You've made me so happy!" He said with genuine excitement. He ran off to the processing center. I smiled. What could I say? I was a romantic at heart, in the sense that I enjoyed how the notion of love had been fucking people over since the dawn of humanity. Simply wonderful.	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Why?" Asked the gatekeeper. "Why would you give up your well deserved place in the Heaven?" "I could get into the details; I really could. I could talk about how unjust your system is where you can damn yourself for eternity over a brief lifetime. Or, in my case, get into Heaven. But I won't. I had time enough to think it over, and realized something." "Yes? What is it that you realized?" "I'm bored. Everything here is tiresome and stale; I have all my friends down there. That's a good enough reason for requesting my transfer, too."	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The two demons laughed, the taller one patting his friend on the shoulder. "Give those kids a good beating for me, would ya?" The smaller nodded with a toothy grin and hopped into the gaping, fiery maw they stood beside. The Gatekeeper chuckled to himself as he walked back to his post. He reviewed his files for the day, all the usual sort. He'd learned the patterns: Regular cons, tormented souls, bumbling idiots. The occasional wayward sob, looking for forgiveness. He set the book of files down on his desk, sat with a relaxing sigh, and looked up to find an unfamiliar face before him. Very unfamiliar. Bright eyed, smile from ear to ear, clothed in Sunday's best. "Good Morning, Gatekeeper." The man said, brightly. The Gatekeeper took a moment to think, delaying with a sip of coffee. "Not my usual type... here on business, then?" He placed his coffee down and grabbed a pen. "Usually He sends His correspondence lower down. Not that I can't take a message." The man nodded, almost to cover his flickering smile. "Usually true, but I am on here on personal business, I am afraid." "Hmph." The Gatekeeper flipped through his files again. "Unscheduled, as well." The man leaned forward. "I want in." The two locked stares, and the Gatekeeper shrugged. "Sure, jump on in." he thumbed over his scaled shoulder as he spoke. "Water's warm, lose the suit." The man leaned back in his chair. "Huh. You mean that's it?" "What?" The Gatekeeper took another swig of coffee. "You were expecting a no?" "Well. Kind of. Yes." The Gatekeeper shrugged again. "How much can an eternity of bliss really last? I get it. You think the thought never crossed my mind?" Before the man could respond, a strained scream came from the pit behind the Gate. He peered over the demon's shoulder and saw a mere skeleton of a man pulling himself up over the rocky edge. The Gatekeeper rose from his chair, signalling with a finger to the man at his desk. "One second." He took a sheet from his book of files, and walked over to the new arrival. "How many times does this make it now, Dylan? I've lost count." The skeleton man wheezed with ashen lungs, "No more... than a century..." He smiled crookedly up at the Gatekeeper. The demon lifted the sheet in front of Dylan's sunken face. "This your signature, Dylan?" A nod yes. "And is it signed in your blood?" Another, yet hesitant, nod. The demon rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. "Dylan. Remember what I always tell you. It must be signed in the blood--" Dylan cut in, a look of remembrance on his face. "In-in-in the blood of my Sworn Master! For I serve no other, and-and to have drawn his blood... is to... rise above servitude!" The demon nodded along as Dylan rambled out the oath. He forced the form into Dylan's chest, and wrapped a strong grip around the frail man's throat. "Yes. Now go give him hell." "See you next Tuesday!" Dylan squeaked out, before the Gatekeeper tossed him back into the endless abyss. Returning to his desk, he found the man still sitting. "What was I saying?" He asked, absently. "Right." The demon sat again, leaning back to stretch out his back. "So, I get where you're coming from. First one I've seen from up There, but law of averages be damned. Maybe you're getting to full up?" The man glanced at the Gatekeeper's book of files. "How many do you see a day?" The Gatekeeper gruffed, "I stopped counting." "And I am the first to want to...leave?" "Well, not the first of course, but the first I've seen. And, far be it for me to deny you that temptation..." He tapped one of his black horns. "Not all the glitters..." The demon trailed off and returned to his files, speaking indirectly now to the man. "You'll want to move quickly. Things tend to back up come lunchtime." There was a quiet now, no sound but the distant crackle of the Underworld. Looking up, the Gatekeeper found the man to be gone. He looked back to the pit, and saw what he thought could be a form slipping through the rising smoke... but surely he wouldn't have...	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Wait, you want to leave Heaven?" My job as gatekeeper between Heaven and Hell meant I got a lot of requests from people asking to move in one direction (obviously), but I had never seen one going in the other direction before! Standing before me was an old man. Checking his entry, I saw he was a hard-working man who spent his life helping others. The usual perfect candidate for a slot in Heaven. "You heard me right, I want to go to Hell! And hurry, I'm running out of time!" "What do you mean?" I responded. "Running out of time for what?" "It's about to freeze over, and I want to see it happen!!!!!" I checked my entry again, and shook my head when I found it -- Cubs fans!	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. The huge demon put down the flaming seal into the blood-red ink blotter with a sigh. He pushed his half-moon glasses up above bridge of his nose, massaged his dry eyes with thumb and forefinger and sighed. So many applications, so many approvals, so little variety. He looked over at the large clock ticking endlessly on the wall. The hands stuck at one second to midnight. “They make it too bloody easy.” he muttered to himself. Since the light had introduced that ridiculous decreed that confessing one's sins guaranteed entrance, his office has been inundated by transfer applications from the eternally damned seeking eternal forgiveness and a place in the heavenly horde. 'Amateurs' he added tilting his massive head back. He yawned eliciting some satisfying cracks down the length of his nobbly neck as he stretched his arms forward like a golem tipping a cliff. He reached for the seal. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... re-read... tut stamp. Scan, review, stamp. ... He didn't immediately hear the noise. His leathery ears were better suited to the howls and wails of the damned and simply skipped over the polite tapping that came from the door. Tap-tap, it went. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Tap-tap, again. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... THUMP! The demon looked down at the seal. That was odd... I could've sworn.. "Ahem, hello?" Millenia of unused, highly attuned reflexes all fired at once. CLAWS, FIRE, GLAMOUR, FLEX, AAAAAXE! The result of long-unused lightning reactions fighting for dominance within the giant's frame resulted in what could easily be mistaken for a jump of surprise. "Whaaa, gwaaagh!" On seeing the glowing shape of a small elderly angel peeping round the gnarled soot-scudded doorframe the demon flopped back in his creaking chair with his foul hand across his chest wheezing slightly. He stopped. Took a deep breath. Composed himself. "WHO DARES TO..." "Sorry, I don't mean to surprise you..." "DO NOT PRESUME TO..." boomed the demon The angel held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Sorry, again, sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," he said, interrupting the demon again "but there is no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are and know what you do..." The demon stared in bewilderment. "... you see, I am in the office opposite? Do you know it? The bright one? It is just that all day and all night all I can hear is you shuffling paper, whacking that mighty stamp of yours and growling to yourself." "Oh, well, i'm..." muttered the demon The demon's eyes focussed. An understanding shadow crept slowly across his sharp features. He composed himself rising to his full height in his chair "TOO NOISY FOR YOU IS IT, PUNY LIGHT WALKER? WELL I SUGGEST THAT YOU GO..." Again the angel cut him off. "Oh no, not at all, it is nothing like that." The demon mentally stumbled, dropped back into his chair and let out an exasperated pant. "So, what is it that you..." he muttered "Well," continued the angel in a matter-of-fact way "I am your, as it were, opposite number." The demon lifted his eyebrows. "Over the other side." The eyebrows moved even higher "Applicants keen to move from hell to heaven have to apply through your office and applicants keen to move from heaven to hell come through mine." The eyebrows were joined by an inquisitive head tilt. "As I am sure you can imagine, there is not much for me to do over there. I mean, who would want to swap an endlessness of happiness for the infinite sadness? Not to ignore the fact that Heaven is filling up with all sorts of a-hole now because of the whole forgiveness thing." The eyebrows, and tilted head were joined by a slow nod. The angel paused. Took deep breath. "So, I was wondering..." The raised eyebrows and nodding head were joined by some fleshy pursed lips. "...if your would consider..." And some slight nostril flaring. "... a little job swap." Everything stopped. Mid-nod. Mid-raise. Mid-purse. Mid-flare. A rather awkward silence followed. There followed a further deeper silence. Then, so slowly, that the angel was unsure whether it was actually happening, the demon's taloned hand moved up to his face, settling into a satisfactorily comfortable position of consideration. "HMMMMMM...." growled the beast. Then, emphasising every syllable like it were a slice of juicy steak to be savoured not rushed,: "IN-TER-ES-TING!" The angel started: "I'm sorry, I know it is..." "YOU DO REALISE THAT WE CANNOT DO SUCH A THING..." he barked. The angel's face sank and he started towards the door "... WITHOUT GOING THROUGH THE OFFICIAL CHANNELS." roared the demon reaching for a stack of forms. The angel turned, his face started to resurface. "HELL KNOWS I COULD DO WITH A BREAK. AND IF I CAN SPREAD A LITTLE LIFETIME'S WORTH OF MISERY, ALL THE BETTER." He thrust a singed document at the angel. "FILL THIS OUT. THEN THERE IS JUST THE FORMALITY OF THE SEAL..." The angel excitedly smiled and started scribbling on the parchment with a quill. "DO YOU HAVE THE ERM… ONE FOR ME?" "Oh yes of course, in my office, the pile on the left" The demon got up and marched across the stony floor. “Oh, and thank you for this amazing opportunity. I really need a bit of a change of scenery” said the angel The demon’s humongous frame slowly turned. “NO, IT IS I WHO SHOULD BE THANKFUL. I HAVEN’T HAD A HOLIDAY SINCE… EVER” he glared at the clock then continuing out of the door. There was a shrieking scraping sound of unstoppable horns on doorframe. There was a crunching scrabbling sound of moveable furniture. There was a satisfying squeak of a reclinable office chair. (and what sounded suspiciously like a muffled demonic giggle.) “You will need one from the pile on the left.” shouted the angel. “I SEE ONLY ONE PILE. IT IS DUSTY.” boomed the demon. “That’s the one” he replied. Life was indeed boring over that side. The angel clambered up the charred throne and placed his application form square on the desk in front of him, flattening it carefully with a soft hand. After a few moments of diabolical scratching from across the corridor there boomed: "THE SEAL?" The angel stared at the clock. One minute to midnight. “Ready when you are” he called back "THREE..." He picked up the flaming seal, dipped it in the simmering crimson blotter. “TWO” The seal hovered like a hellish phoenix over the ‘Approved’ field. “ONE!” "This is gonna be fun!" chucked the angel.	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	Peter sat at his desk, a coffee in one hand and a stack of scattered parole applications strewn the other. They came in daily by the hundreds, thousands, millions of damned souls wishing to be freed from Literal Hell. They only got one shot, and most of them applied far too early to be considered for early release into Heaven. It was a damn shame, because many of these people would eventually be moved up in a few centuries with good behavior. Just like the sinners they are however, they thought they deserved something better before everyone else. Peter flipped through a couple of the upcoming hearings later that day. A Ms. P. Westman with a big "MOVE UP" stamped on the front of her file with 300 years left on her sentence. She didn't have any recent good behavior to add to her appeal, so she'd likely be denied. Mr. G. was a drug dealer, or in his words a "medicine man," whose doses of some improperly mixed substance killed two children. He attempted to run out of town before the parents came for him, but he ended up running into a moose. Dead. He'd be denied. S. Mason, born in 1604 and died in 1632 was charged with stealing alms meant for the Church, but they were stolen to help pay for the care of a sick child, and that would probably strike the counsel's soft spot. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he placed the file down and started reorganizing his desk. He shuffled a couple files when his hand stopped on a file with "MOVE DOWN" stamped on the front. He choked on his coffee and quickly put the mug aside. He picked up the file and gave it a once over before opening. Surely there was some mistake? Peter could only recall three or four cases where a request to be sent down were filed. He set the file down and pressed the buzzer on his desk. "Mary, could you please clear my schedule tomorrow morning? I have to take an emergency meeting with a resident of Upstairs." "Yes, of course, I'll pencil that right in," she said from the other room. "Thanks darlin. How about later we go for some--" "Anything else you need, Peter?" Her curt interruption was enough of a 'no' for him. "No, thanks, you're a peach. Hey, I'm gonna take the rest of the day, do you mind giving the rest of the incoming files to the other councilors?" "I don't mind, but I'm sure they would." "Again, you're a doll." "Goodbye, Peter." Peter came to the office first thing the next morning. He even had arrived before the other counselors. He checked the records of yesterday's appeals, and they were exactly what he thought they'd be. No one can resist the sick children plea, he said to himself in celebration. His meeting with the Downer was scheduled first thing, so he made a pot of coffee and waited for him to arrive. His name was Jeffery. He'd died at the ripe old age of 78, which was impressive in his time. He'd been a woodcutter most of his life, and a widower to a wife who lost her child while it was in its infancy. His life was full of tragedy, but he excelled in his profession and was a good honest man. But when winter of '79 hit, he'd gotten pneumonia and died. He was sent straight to Heaven. The headscratcher was why in the world he wanted to go Down? Heaven was, after all, perfect for all intents and purposes. A few minutes later Jeffery, dressed in fine clothing and sporting a heavenly glow walked into the office. Often, the people walking into their parole hearing were giddy with excitement, as if we were all forgiving like they were taught. On the contrary, he looked rather haggard despite the finery; his skin sagged, his face looked hollow, his eyes sunken into his skull. He seemed to be in a deep depression. So Peter attempted to lighten the mood. "Heaven not hot enough for you?" Peter said with a chuckle as he pulled out his chair. Jeffery didn't really move from his position near the door, and he certainly didn't chuckle back. "Uhm," he cleared his throat, "please, take a seat." The sunken form of Jeffery made its way to the chairs and sat, giving a sigh. Peter looked at his charge's hands, the fingers were interlocked in a tight squeeze. Peter cleared his throat, leaned in, and started the process. "Now, believe me when I say that I am amazed that you're sitting here." There was no response from Jeffery. He went on, "That is to say, I have almost never seen someone want to go Down. What could possibly have happened that made you want to switch?" Jeffery's face tightened, he looked almost like he were going to be sick. After a moment he choked out, "There was a mistake. My wife--" "Your wife, sir?" Peter started combing over Jeffery's file to see if there were indeed a mistake. "My wife was beautiful." He started. His voice was full of unchecked emotion. "When I got here you people told me Heaven was the most beautiful place on Earth. But I don't see that." Peter interrupted, stammering, "well, uh, of course, if you're unsatisfied with your lodgings we can find you a new location for you and your wife--" "My wife isn't here!" He slammed his fist on the table, sending a jolt of shock through Peter. "This place was supposed to be perfect, and she was supposed to be waiting for me here!" He was shouting at this point. "I waited so long in life for her. A thousand years in this place! She died when I was 31, and she was only 28. We had a kid... But he died, too." Peter looked at the crying man sitting across from him in the office, and cleared his throat once more. "Well, uh, I'm not so sure what the issue is. I still don't understand why you're asking to be moved Down." "Because she's not in Heaven, obviously! You people made a mistake! She was perfect! She worked, cared for our sick child, used every coin she had to buy him medicine. She even worked at the Church for donations. And somehow she's in Hell?" The crying man slumped down in his chair and covered his face. "Her name was Sally," he whimpered. Peter nodded understandingly. "You realize that Hell is a very horrible place, yes?" "I just want to be with her," he croaked. "And you also understand that you may not ever come back to Heaven, yes?" "As long as I have her that is all I need." "Very well." Peter picked up his coffee and took a drink. The papers would be ready in short order. This poor bastard doesn't realize what he's losing, Peter thought to himself, but it wasn't his place to judge. Peter led Jeffery down the hallway to an elevator. He chuckled, usually it was for people going up. Not the other way around. "Well, here's where you go. I hope you have a... pleasant eternity." Peter said as he pushed the "open" button. Jeffery smiled and thanked Peter with a warm handshake. As the elevator started making its decent Peter was already down the hallway. He got to his desk and took out the file. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Hey, Mary, once I finish up with this Jeffery Mason paperwork, you wanna grab dinner and a mo--" "No, but please remember to put the file in its proper place this time." The intercom clicked off. One of these days he'd get Mary out on a date.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	I was looking over the guy's rap sheet. "You got into heaven fair and square. Why do you want to transfer to hell?" "I did not get into heaven," the man said. "For heaven without my true love is not heaven -- it's just a pleasant waiting room." I cross-referenced his file with his wife's file. Yikes! She'd lead an exciting life. What was it about this vile woman this goody-two shoes could fall in love with? "So can I do it? Can I transfer?" "Let me input the scenario into the Sin Check," I said. "Looks like this will result in you being much less happy. There will at first be an increase in happiness in your --ahem -- lady's life but she will soon become overcome by guilt for having damned you. In the end this will result in slightly more evil than good, and the call's up to me." "And?" "Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" I asked. I stamped his paper work and gave him a receipt for his damnation. "Thank so you much! You've made me so happy!" He said with genuine excitement. He ran off to the processing center. I smiled. What could I say? I was a romantic at heart, in the sense that I enjoyed how the notion of love had been fucking people over since the dawn of humanity. Simply wonderful.	It was nice up there, don't get me wrong. The people were friendly enough, and the view was pretty great. But it always felt like something was missing. I spent a great deal of effort on earth doing some pretty good things to make sure I could get up to heaven; I think that might have been the problem. You see, as it turns out, heaven was a lot easier to get into than I had been lead to believe. Everyone up here seems to have done wild and crazy things while they were down on earth. Hell (pardon the language) I was just talking to a guy who spent most of his tuesdays snorting coke off the tits of hookers, just because his wife worked late every Tuesday. Every time I tried to join in on a conversation it seemed someone had an exciting story to tell; Everyone except me. I was always getting left out. We'll I'm not gonna be left out much longer, soon I'll have the best story of all. I'm going to hell and back.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The two demons laughed, the taller one patting his friend on the shoulder. "Give those kids a good beating for me, would ya?" The smaller nodded with a toothy grin and hopped into the gaping, fiery maw they stood beside. The Gatekeeper chuckled to himself as he walked back to his post. He reviewed his files for the day, all the usual sort. He'd learned the patterns: Regular cons, tormented souls, bumbling idiots. The occasional wayward sob, looking for forgiveness. He set the book of files down on his desk, sat with a relaxing sigh, and looked up to find an unfamiliar face before him. Very unfamiliar. Bright eyed, smile from ear to ear, clothed in Sunday's best. "Good Morning, Gatekeeper." The man said, brightly. The Gatekeeper took a moment to think, delaying with a sip of coffee. "Not my usual type... here on business, then?" He placed his coffee down and grabbed a pen. "Usually He sends His correspondence lower down. Not that I can't take a message." The man nodded, almost to cover his flickering smile. "Usually true, but I am on here on personal business, I am afraid." "Hmph." The Gatekeeper flipped through his files again. "Unscheduled, as well." The man leaned forward. "I want in." The two locked stares, and the Gatekeeper shrugged. "Sure, jump on in." he thumbed over his scaled shoulder as he spoke. "Water's warm, lose the suit." The man leaned back in his chair. "Huh. You mean that's it?" "What?" The Gatekeeper took another swig of coffee. "You were expecting a no?" "Well. Kind of. Yes." The Gatekeeper shrugged again. "How much can an eternity of bliss really last? I get it. You think the thought never crossed my mind?" Before the man could respond, a strained scream came from the pit behind the Gate. He peered over the demon's shoulder and saw a mere skeleton of a man pulling himself up over the rocky edge. The Gatekeeper rose from his chair, signalling with a finger to the man at his desk. "One second." He took a sheet from his book of files, and walked over to the new arrival. "How many times does this make it now, Dylan? I've lost count." The skeleton man wheezed with ashen lungs, "No more... than a century..." He smiled crookedly up at the Gatekeeper. The demon lifted the sheet in front of Dylan's sunken face. "This your signature, Dylan?" A nod yes. "And is it signed in your blood?" Another, yet hesitant, nod. The demon rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. "Dylan. Remember what I always tell you. It must be signed in the blood--" Dylan cut in, a look of remembrance on his face. "In-in-in the blood of my Sworn Master! For I serve no other, and-and to have drawn his blood... is to... rise above servitude!" The demon nodded along as Dylan rambled out the oath. He forced the form into Dylan's chest, and wrapped a strong grip around the frail man's throat. "Yes. Now go give him hell." "See you next Tuesday!" Dylan squeaked out, before the Gatekeeper tossed him back into the endless abyss. Returning to his desk, he found the man still sitting. "What was I saying?" He asked, absently. "Right." The demon sat again, leaning back to stretch out his back. "So, I get where you're coming from. First one I've seen from up There, but law of averages be damned. Maybe you're getting to full up?" The man glanced at the Gatekeeper's book of files. "How many do you see a day?" The Gatekeeper gruffed, "I stopped counting." "And I am the first to want to...leave?" "Well, not the first of course, but the first I've seen. And, far be it for me to deny you that temptation..." He tapped one of his black horns. "Not all the glitters..." The demon trailed off and returned to his files, speaking indirectly now to the man. "You'll want to move quickly. Things tend to back up come lunchtime." There was a quiet now, no sound but the distant crackle of the Underworld. Looking up, the Gatekeeper found the man to be gone. He looked back to the pit, and saw what he thought could be a form slipping through the rising smoke... but surely he wouldn't have...	It was nice up there, don't get me wrong. The people were friendly enough, and the view was pretty great. But it always felt like something was missing. I spent a great deal of effort on earth doing some pretty good things to make sure I could get up to heaven; I think that might have been the problem. You see, as it turns out, heaven was a lot easier to get into than I had been lead to believe. Everyone up here seems to have done wild and crazy things while they were down on earth. Hell (pardon the language) I was just talking to a guy who spent most of his tuesdays snorting coke off the tits of hookers, just because his wife worked late every Tuesday. Every time I tried to join in on a conversation it seemed someone had an exciting story to tell; Everyone except me. I was always getting left out. We'll I'm not gonna be left out much longer, soon I'll have the best story of all. I'm going to hell and back.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Wait, you want to leave Heaven?" My job as gatekeeper between Heaven and Hell meant I got a lot of requests from people asking to move in one direction (obviously), but I had never seen one going in the other direction before! Standing before me was an old man. Checking his entry, I saw he was a hard-working man who spent his life helping others. The usual perfect candidate for a slot in Heaven. "You heard me right, I want to go to Hell! And hurry, I'm running out of time!" "What do you mean?" I responded. "Running out of time for what?" "It's about to freeze over, and I want to see it happen!!!!!" I checked my entry again, and shook my head when I found it -- Cubs fans!	It was nice up there, don't get me wrong. The people were friendly enough, and the view was pretty great. But it always felt like something was missing. I spent a great deal of effort on earth doing some pretty good things to make sure I could get up to heaven; I think that might have been the problem. You see, as it turns out, heaven was a lot easier to get into than I had been lead to believe. Everyone up here seems to have done wild and crazy things while they were down on earth. Hell (pardon the language) I was just talking to a guy who spent most of his tuesdays snorting coke off the tits of hookers, just because his wife worked late every Tuesday. Every time I tried to join in on a conversation it seemed someone had an exciting story to tell; Everyone except me. I was always getting left out. We'll I'm not gonna be left out much longer, soon I'll have the best story of all. I'm going to hell and back.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	It was nice up there, don't get me wrong. The people were friendly enough, and the view was pretty great. But it always felt like something was missing. I spent a great deal of effort on earth doing some pretty good things to make sure I could get up to heaven; I think that might have been the problem. You see, as it turns out, heaven was a lot easier to get into than I had been lead to believe. Everyone up here seems to have done wild and crazy things while they were down on earth. Hell (pardon the language) I was just talking to a guy who spent most of his tuesdays snorting coke off the tits of hookers, just because his wife worked late every Tuesday. Every time I tried to join in on a conversation it seemed someone had an exciting story to tell; Everyone except me. I was always getting left out. We'll I'm not gonna be left out much longer, soon I'll have the best story of all. I'm going to hell and back.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	I was looking over the guy's rap sheet. "You got into heaven fair and square. Why do you want to transfer to hell?" "I did not get into heaven," the man said. "For heaven without my true love is not heaven -- it's just a pleasant waiting room." I cross-referenced his file with his wife's file. Yikes! She'd lead an exciting life. What was it about this vile woman this goody-two shoes could fall in love with? "So can I do it? Can I transfer?" "Let me input the scenario into the Sin Check," I said. "Looks like this will result in you being much less happy. There will at first be an increase in happiness in your --ahem -- lady's life but she will soon become overcome by guilt for having damned you. In the end this will result in slightly more evil than good, and the call's up to me." "And?" "Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" I asked. I stamped his paper work and gave him a receipt for his damnation. "Thank so you much! You've made me so happy!" He said with genuine excitement. He ran off to the processing center. I smiled. What could I say? I was a romantic at heart, in the sense that I enjoyed how the notion of love had been fucking people over since the dawn of humanity. Simply wonderful.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The two demons laughed, the taller one patting his friend on the shoulder. "Give those kids a good beating for me, would ya?" The smaller nodded with a toothy grin and hopped into the gaping, fiery maw they stood beside. The Gatekeeper chuckled to himself as he walked back to his post. He reviewed his files for the day, all the usual sort. He'd learned the patterns: Regular cons, tormented souls, bumbling idiots. The occasional wayward sob, looking for forgiveness. He set the book of files down on his desk, sat with a relaxing sigh, and looked up to find an unfamiliar face before him. Very unfamiliar. Bright eyed, smile from ear to ear, clothed in Sunday's best. "Good Morning, Gatekeeper." The man said, brightly. The Gatekeeper took a moment to think, delaying with a sip of coffee. "Not my usual type... here on business, then?" He placed his coffee down and grabbed a pen. "Usually He sends His correspondence lower down. Not that I can't take a message." The man nodded, almost to cover his flickering smile. "Usually true, but I am on here on personal business, I am afraid." "Hmph." The Gatekeeper flipped through his files again. "Unscheduled, as well." The man leaned forward. "I want in." The two locked stares, and the Gatekeeper shrugged. "Sure, jump on in." he thumbed over his scaled shoulder as he spoke. "Water's warm, lose the suit." The man leaned back in his chair. "Huh. You mean that's it?" "What?" The Gatekeeper took another swig of coffee. "You were expecting a no?" "Well. Kind of. Yes." The Gatekeeper shrugged again. "How much can an eternity of bliss really last? I get it. You think the thought never crossed my mind?" Before the man could respond, a strained scream came from the pit behind the Gate. He peered over the demon's shoulder and saw a mere skeleton of a man pulling himself up over the rocky edge. The Gatekeeper rose from his chair, signalling with a finger to the man at his desk. "One second." He took a sheet from his book of files, and walked over to the new arrival. "How many times does this make it now, Dylan? I've lost count." The skeleton man wheezed with ashen lungs, "No more... than a century..." He smiled crookedly up at the Gatekeeper. The demon lifted the sheet in front of Dylan's sunken face. "This your signature, Dylan?" A nod yes. "And is it signed in your blood?" Another, yet hesitant, nod. The demon rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. "Dylan. Remember what I always tell you. It must be signed in the blood--" Dylan cut in, a look of remembrance on his face. "In-in-in the blood of my Sworn Master! For I serve no other, and-and to have drawn his blood... is to... rise above servitude!" The demon nodded along as Dylan rambled out the oath. He forced the form into Dylan's chest, and wrapped a strong grip around the frail man's throat. "Yes. Now go give him hell." "See you next Tuesday!" Dylan squeaked out, before the Gatekeeper tossed him back into the endless abyss. Returning to his desk, he found the man still sitting. "What was I saying?" He asked, absently. "Right." The demon sat again, leaning back to stretch out his back. "So, I get where you're coming from. First one I've seen from up There, but law of averages be damned. Maybe you're getting to full up?" The man glanced at the Gatekeeper's book of files. "How many do you see a day?" The Gatekeeper gruffed, "I stopped counting." "And I am the first to want to...leave?" "Well, not the first of course, but the first I've seen. And, far be it for me to deny you that temptation..." He tapped one of his black horns. "Not all the glitters..." The demon trailed off and returned to his files, speaking indirectly now to the man. "You'll want to move quickly. Things tend to back up come lunchtime." There was a quiet now, no sound but the distant crackle of the Underworld. Looking up, the Gatekeeper found the man to be gone. He looked back to the pit, and saw what he thought could be a form slipping through the rising smoke... but surely he wouldn't have...	"Why?" Asked the gatekeeper. "Why would you give up your well deserved place in the Heaven?" "I could get into the details; I really could. I could talk about how unjust your system is where you can damn yourself for eternity over a brief lifetime. Or, in my case, get into Heaven. But I won't. I had time enough to think it over, and realized something." "Yes? What is it that you realized?" "I'm bored. Everything here is tiresome and stale; I have all my friends down there. That's a good enough reason for requesting my transfer, too."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Wait, you want to leave Heaven?" My job as gatekeeper between Heaven and Hell meant I got a lot of requests from people asking to move in one direction (obviously), but I had never seen one going in the other direction before! Standing before me was an old man. Checking his entry, I saw he was a hard-working man who spent his life helping others. The usual perfect candidate for a slot in Heaven. "You heard me right, I want to go to Hell! And hurry, I'm running out of time!" "What do you mean?" I responded. "Running out of time for what?" "It's about to freeze over, and I want to see it happen!!!!!" I checked my entry again, and shook my head when I found it -- Cubs fans!	"Why?" Asked the gatekeeper. "Why would you give up your well deserved place in the Heaven?" "I could get into the details; I really could. I could talk about how unjust your system is where you can damn yourself for eternity over a brief lifetime. Or, in my case, get into Heaven. But I won't. I had time enough to think it over, and realized something." "Yes? What is it that you realized?" "I'm bored. Everything here is tiresome and stale; I have all my friends down there. That's a good enough reason for requesting my transfer, too."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. The huge demon put down the flaming seal into the blood-red ink blotter with a sigh. He pushed his half-moon glasses up above bridge of his nose, massaged his dry eyes with thumb and forefinger and sighed. So many applications, so many approvals, so little variety. He looked over at the large clock ticking endlessly on the wall. The hands stuck at one second to midnight. “They make it too bloody easy.” he muttered to himself. Since the light had introduced that ridiculous decreed that confessing one's sins guaranteed entrance, his office has been inundated by transfer applications from the eternally damned seeking eternal forgiveness and a place in the heavenly horde. 'Amateurs' he added tilting his massive head back. He yawned eliciting some satisfying cracks down the length of his nobbly neck as he stretched his arms forward like a golem tipping a cliff. He reached for the seal. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... re-read... tut stamp. Scan, review, stamp. ... He didn't immediately hear the noise. His leathery ears were better suited to the howls and wails of the damned and simply skipped over the polite tapping that came from the door. Tap-tap, it went. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Tap-tap, again. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... THUMP! The demon looked down at the seal. That was odd... I could've sworn.. "Ahem, hello?" Millenia of unused, highly attuned reflexes all fired at once. CLAWS, FIRE, GLAMOUR, FLEX, AAAAAXE! The result of long-unused lightning reactions fighting for dominance within the giant's frame resulted in what could easily be mistaken for a jump of surprise. "Whaaa, gwaaagh!" On seeing the glowing shape of a small elderly angel peeping round the gnarled soot-scudded doorframe the demon flopped back in his creaking chair with his foul hand across his chest wheezing slightly. He stopped. Took a deep breath. Composed himself. "WHO DARES TO..." "Sorry, I don't mean to surprise you..." "DO NOT PRESUME TO..." boomed the demon The angel held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Sorry, again, sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," he said, interrupting the demon again "but there is no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are and know what you do..." The demon stared in bewilderment. "... you see, I am in the office opposite? Do you know it? The bright one? It is just that all day and all night all I can hear is you shuffling paper, whacking that mighty stamp of yours and growling to yourself." "Oh, well, i'm..." muttered the demon The demon's eyes focussed. An understanding shadow crept slowly across his sharp features. He composed himself rising to his full height in his chair "TOO NOISY FOR YOU IS IT, PUNY LIGHT WALKER? WELL I SUGGEST THAT YOU GO..." Again the angel cut him off. "Oh no, not at all, it is nothing like that." The demon mentally stumbled, dropped back into his chair and let out an exasperated pant. "So, what is it that you..." he muttered "Well," continued the angel in a matter-of-fact way "I am your, as it were, opposite number." The demon lifted his eyebrows. "Over the other side." The eyebrows moved even higher "Applicants keen to move from hell to heaven have to apply through your office and applicants keen to move from heaven to hell come through mine." The eyebrows were joined by an inquisitive head tilt. "As I am sure you can imagine, there is not much for me to do over there. I mean, who would want to swap an endlessness of happiness for the infinite sadness? Not to ignore the fact that Heaven is filling up with all sorts of a-hole now because of the whole forgiveness thing." The eyebrows, and tilted head were joined by a slow nod. The angel paused. Took deep breath. "So, I was wondering..." The raised eyebrows and nodding head were joined by some fleshy pursed lips. "...if your would consider..." And some slight nostril flaring. "... a little job swap." Everything stopped. Mid-nod. Mid-raise. Mid-purse. Mid-flare. A rather awkward silence followed. There followed a further deeper silence. Then, so slowly, that the angel was unsure whether it was actually happening, the demon's taloned hand moved up to his face, settling into a satisfactorily comfortable position of consideration. "HMMMMMM...." growled the beast. Then, emphasising every syllable like it were a slice of juicy steak to be savoured not rushed,: "IN-TER-ES-TING!" The angel started: "I'm sorry, I know it is..." "YOU DO REALISE THAT WE CANNOT DO SUCH A THING..." he barked. The angel's face sank and he started towards the door "... WITHOUT GOING THROUGH THE OFFICIAL CHANNELS." roared the demon reaching for a stack of forms. The angel turned, his face started to resurface. "HELL KNOWS I COULD DO WITH A BREAK. AND IF I CAN SPREAD A LITTLE LIFETIME'S WORTH OF MISERY, ALL THE BETTER." He thrust a singed document at the angel. "FILL THIS OUT. THEN THERE IS JUST THE FORMALITY OF THE SEAL..." The angel excitedly smiled and started scribbling on the parchment with a quill. "DO YOU HAVE THE ERM… ONE FOR ME?" "Oh yes of course, in my office, the pile on the left" The demon got up and marched across the stony floor. “Oh, and thank you for this amazing opportunity. I really need a bit of a change of scenery” said the angel The demon’s humongous frame slowly turned. “NO, IT IS I WHO SHOULD BE THANKFUL. I HAVEN’T HAD A HOLIDAY SINCE… EVER” he glared at the clock then continuing out of the door. There was a shrieking scraping sound of unstoppable horns on doorframe. There was a crunching scrabbling sound of moveable furniture. There was a satisfying squeak of a reclinable office chair. (and what sounded suspiciously like a muffled demonic giggle.) “You will need one from the pile on the left.” shouted the angel. “I SEE ONLY ONE PILE. IT IS DUSTY.” boomed the demon. “That’s the one” he replied. Life was indeed boring over that side. The angel clambered up the charred throne and placed his application form square on the desk in front of him, flattening it carefully with a soft hand. After a few moments of diabolical scratching from across the corridor there boomed: "THE SEAL?" The angel stared at the clock. One minute to midnight. “Ready when you are” he called back "THREE..." He picked up the flaming seal, dipped it in the simmering crimson blotter. “TWO” The seal hovered like a hellish phoenix over the ‘Approved’ field. “ONE!” "This is gonna be fun!" chucked the angel.	"Why?" Asked the gatekeeper. "Why would you give up your well deserved place in the Heaven?" "I could get into the details; I really could. I could talk about how unjust your system is where you can damn yourself for eternity over a brief lifetime. Or, in my case, get into Heaven. But I won't. I had time enough to think it over, and realized something." "Yes? What is it that you realized?" "I'm bored. Everything here is tiresome and stale; I have all my friends down there. That's a good enough reason for requesting my transfer, too."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	"Why?" Asked the gatekeeper. "Why would you give up your well deserved place in the Heaven?" "I could get into the details; I really could. I could talk about how unjust your system is where you can damn yourself for eternity over a brief lifetime. Or, in my case, get into Heaven. But I won't. I had time enough to think it over, and realized something." "Yes? What is it that you realized?" "I'm bored. Everything here is tiresome and stale; I have all my friends down there. That's a good enough reason for requesting my transfer, too."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Wait, you want to leave Heaven?" My job as gatekeeper between Heaven and Hell meant I got a lot of requests from people asking to move in one direction (obviously), but I had never seen one going in the other direction before! Standing before me was an old man. Checking his entry, I saw he was a hard-working man who spent his life helping others. The usual perfect candidate for a slot in Heaven. "You heard me right, I want to go to Hell! And hurry, I'm running out of time!" "What do you mean?" I responded. "Running out of time for what?" "It's about to freeze over, and I want to see it happen!!!!!" I checked my entry again, and shook my head when I found it -- Cubs fans!	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The gatekeeper looked down from his podium to see the small girl standing below him. She could not have been more than 2 years old it looked, but she was by herself. He looked from the paper in his hand, then back at her, then back at it. It asked, astonishingly, to be let from Heaven to go to Hell. He couldn't understand why? It wasn't odd for a child to be in Heaven, but none had ever asked for something so strange. Usually, it was enough food, or a dog or a cat, but never this "Now are you sure you want to do this?" The man said, as he got off his stool and walked around, so she could see him as well as he saw her. "Do you not like it here?" "No, sir. I love it here. It has all I ever want, and it is all I have ever known. I wasn't on earth for very long, so I don't know it very well as some of the other people here do. But sir.." "Is it your parents you want to see?" He asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye "I'm certain that they would want you to be here instead of there dear. Don't you think so?" "Oh no, sir! It's not for my parents at all. I didn't know them, so I wouldn't know who to look for down there. No, that's not it. It's just" She said, pulling up on the bear she was holding "I... I had a sister. It's been so very long that I've been up here, and I still haven't seen her come. I have come every day to see if she has come up here, but she has not. We were in the womb together, a thing they call twins. She was my best friend and my whole world, and I was hers. But sir, I died and she didn't. I want to see her again, and I love her so much, that I would go to her if she is down there." The girl recounted, tears forming in her eyes "OH I see. Well..." The gatekeeper said. He hadn't thought this could have been it. There hadn't been any twin that he knew of, and he saw every face and knew every name that had come through the Peral Gates. "What was her name? I can see if she has come here for you" He said, standing, and offering his hand to her. He looked at the podium, and behind it, God's Castle. He knew he had to take the little girl to Him, He would fix it. "Her name was Victoria. Victoria Ann Dopa." She said, taking his hand and walking with him "Are we going to your records room, Mr. Gatekeeper?" "Yes, we are dear. And what is your name?" "Ann Victoria Dopa. Our names were reflections" She said, skipping along with his long strides	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. The huge demon put down the flaming seal into the blood-red ink blotter with a sigh. He pushed his half-moon glasses up above bridge of his nose, massaged his dry eyes with thumb and forefinger and sighed. So many applications, so many approvals, so little variety. He looked over at the large clock ticking endlessly on the wall. The hands stuck at one second to midnight. “They make it too bloody easy.” he muttered to himself. Since the light had introduced that ridiculous decreed that confessing one's sins guaranteed entrance, his office has been inundated by transfer applications from the eternally damned seeking eternal forgiveness and a place in the heavenly horde. 'Amateurs' he added tilting his massive head back. He yawned eliciting some satisfying cracks down the length of his nobbly neck as he stretched his arms forward like a golem tipping a cliff. He reached for the seal. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... re-read... tut stamp. Scan, review, stamp. ... He didn't immediately hear the noise. His leathery ears were better suited to the howls and wails of the damned and simply skipped over the polite tapping that came from the door. Tap-tap, it went. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Tap-tap, again. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... THUMP! The demon looked down at the seal. That was odd... I could've sworn.. "Ahem, hello?" Millenia of unused, highly attuned reflexes all fired at once. CLAWS, FIRE, GLAMOUR, FLEX, AAAAAXE! The result of long-unused lightning reactions fighting for dominance within the giant's frame resulted in what could easily be mistaken for a jump of surprise. "Whaaa, gwaaagh!" On seeing the glowing shape of a small elderly angel peeping round the gnarled soot-scudded doorframe the demon flopped back in his creaking chair with his foul hand across his chest wheezing slightly. He stopped. Took a deep breath. Composed himself. "WHO DARES TO..." "Sorry, I don't mean to surprise you..." "DO NOT PRESUME TO..." boomed the demon The angel held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Sorry, again, sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," he said, interrupting the demon again "but there is no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are and know what you do..." The demon stared in bewilderment. "... you see, I am in the office opposite? Do you know it? The bright one? It is just that all day and all night all I can hear is you shuffling paper, whacking that mighty stamp of yours and growling to yourself." "Oh, well, i'm..." muttered the demon The demon's eyes focussed. An understanding shadow crept slowly across his sharp features. He composed himself rising to his full height in his chair "TOO NOISY FOR YOU IS IT, PUNY LIGHT WALKER? WELL I SUGGEST THAT YOU GO..." Again the angel cut him off. "Oh no, not at all, it is nothing like that." The demon mentally stumbled, dropped back into his chair and let out an exasperated pant. "So, what is it that you..." he muttered "Well," continued the angel in a matter-of-fact way "I am your, as it were, opposite number." The demon lifted his eyebrows. "Over the other side." The eyebrows moved even higher "Applicants keen to move from hell to heaven have to apply through your office and applicants keen to move from heaven to hell come through mine." The eyebrows were joined by an inquisitive head tilt. "As I am sure you can imagine, there is not much for me to do over there. I mean, who would want to swap an endlessness of happiness for the infinite sadness? Not to ignore the fact that Heaven is filling up with all sorts of a-hole now because of the whole forgiveness thing." The eyebrows, and tilted head were joined by a slow nod. The angel paused. Took deep breath. "So, I was wondering..." The raised eyebrows and nodding head were joined by some fleshy pursed lips. "...if your would consider..." And some slight nostril flaring. "... a little job swap." Everything stopped. Mid-nod. Mid-raise. Mid-purse. Mid-flare. A rather awkward silence followed. There followed a further deeper silence. Then, so slowly, that the angel was unsure whether it was actually happening, the demon's taloned hand moved up to his face, settling into a satisfactorily comfortable position of consideration. "HMMMMMM...." growled the beast. Then, emphasising every syllable like it were a slice of juicy steak to be savoured not rushed,: "IN-TER-ES-TING!" The angel started: "I'm sorry, I know it is..." "YOU DO REALISE THAT WE CANNOT DO SUCH A THING..." he barked. The angel's face sank and he started towards the door "... WITHOUT GOING THROUGH THE OFFICIAL CHANNELS." roared the demon reaching for a stack of forms. The angel turned, his face started to resurface. "HELL KNOWS I COULD DO WITH A BREAK. AND IF I CAN SPREAD A LITTLE LIFETIME'S WORTH OF MISERY, ALL THE BETTER." He thrust a singed document at the angel. "FILL THIS OUT. THEN THERE IS JUST THE FORMALITY OF THE SEAL..." The angel excitedly smiled and started scribbling on the parchment with a quill. "DO YOU HAVE THE ERM… ONE FOR ME?" "Oh yes of course, in my office, the pile on the left" The demon got up and marched across the stony floor. “Oh, and thank you for this amazing opportunity. I really need a bit of a change of scenery” said the angel The demon’s humongous frame slowly turned. “NO, IT IS I WHO SHOULD BE THANKFUL. I HAVEN’T HAD A HOLIDAY SINCE… EVER” he glared at the clock then continuing out of the door. There was a shrieking scraping sound of unstoppable horns on doorframe. There was a crunching scrabbling sound of moveable furniture. There was a satisfying squeak of a reclinable office chair. (and what sounded suspiciously like a muffled demonic giggle.) “You will need one from the pile on the left.” shouted the angel. “I SEE ONLY ONE PILE. IT IS DUSTY.” boomed the demon. “That’s the one” he replied. Life was indeed boring over that side. The angel clambered up the charred throne and placed his application form square on the desk in front of him, flattening it carefully with a soft hand. After a few moments of diabolical scratching from across the corridor there boomed: "THE SEAL?" The angel stared at the clock. One minute to midnight. “Ready when you are” he called back "THREE..." He picked up the flaming seal, dipped it in the simmering crimson blotter. “TWO” The seal hovered like a hellish phoenix over the ‘Approved’ field. “ONE!” "This is gonna be fun!" chucked the angel.	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The gatekeeper looked at me, a faint hint of amusement mixed in the confusion his multiple faces displayed. "I sift through applications after applications for transfer, all of them apologetic dissidents, some sincere, some foolish but all of them trying to escape hell and enter heaven." The middle face said, while the face on his right kept going through paper after paper and the one on his left stared at the my application. "But never has there been anyone who asked to the opposite, this is the first time isn't it Henry?" The middle face looked at the left face who replied, "Right you are Frank, this would be the very first time." "Interesting. Interesting, pull up his file." All of a sudden, I was surrounded by indecipherable symbols and graphs and charts appeared beside me. I stood in front of the three faced guardian of the gate as Frank seemingly manipulated the symbols to provide him with what I could only assume as different information regarding my life. Without any discernable effort, my hologram changed from me as a baby until my inevitable death at the hands of a drunk driver. Frank gently settled on one of his fists, his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought as he scanned through my life multiple times. "Adam Richards, male, single, died at the young age of 23. Good son. Good brother. Stayed out of trouble for most of your life. Three relationships, one of them a short fling, shortly after your last relationship." Jenny, I thought. Her radiant smile and warm hugs were always a welcome repose from the loneliness and depression that followed my relationship with Alice's wake. She wasn't Alice, not by a long shot. But human touch becomes something you crave after being denied for so long. "Maybe he could go to hell for that?" Henry asked out loud. "True. True. Hell is always big on adulterers." He whispered as the images beside me seemingly dissolved after his steely gaze focused on me. "May I ask why you would like to transfer to Hell and live eternity without God's presence and grace?" "Based on current circumstances." "And what circumstances would that be?" "Alice's recent admission to heaven." "You dare compare God's infinite grace to a mortal's?" The right face interjected, her face marked with fury. "How dare you!" "Quit being so melodramatic, everyone here has dealt with heartbreak. Yours is not as special as you would think it is." Henry said in a mocking tone, "How pathetic." "You don't understand. This is hell to me. I can't pretend feeling fine or okay everytime I see her. I can't just smile everytime she kisses him. It's killing me inside." "You would rather suffer the flames of hell rather than spend eternity in Heaven?" "If you would let me, yes." "You do not understand what you are asking for child." "I find more peace without her than with her. Please. This is torture. You must let me." "Mmm. This has turned out to be a real dilemma." "Just make him stay here, he'll get over it." "Or grant his wish and let his torture be his regret." She says in a cold and dismissive tone. "Please." "Open the gates. I leave the choice to you child, do what you will. You would be foolish to stray away from the presence of God but it is foolish as well to not be true to yourself." I stared beyond the open gates,heard the distant cries for help and forgiveness, smelled the faint odor of burning rubber, and saw my salvation. __________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading, I'm trying to get back to writing again after such a long break, please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms, or what you thought of it. Much love and appreciation.	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The Gatekeeper walked into his office with his morning coffee. He wasn't looking forward to the routine of doing paperwork today, but it was his job. At least he had his coffee, black, bitter, and hot. He sat down to work on the applications that had been sent in. He didn't bother looking at the two baskets. One was marked "Hell" and the other one "Heaven". The one from Hell was always heaping over and the task of getting through all of it in a day was a chore, but the one from Heaven had been empty for decades (the last piece of mail was some guy complaining about Hitler being there). The souls in Heaven were just too happy to think about anything outside of their perfect world. The Gatekeeper was done with all the paperwork in the Hell basket and was about to call it quits for the day, when he noticed a fresh envelope in the Heaven basket. That is strange, He thought. He decided to sit back down and open it. "Dear Gatekeeper, I know, I know, you only take applications, but hear me out. There is a reason I didn't fill one out; that reason being, there is no checkbox to go to Hell. Your application only seems to be for requests to go to Heaven. I just really want to go to Hell. I don't like it here, really. I feel like I am with a bunch of snobs. The food is all great and I am never hungry. Anything I want just shows up in my hand or nearby. The sights are stunning. Worst of all the sex is just too good. Nothing feels right. I am not asking for eternity; I just really want a vacation. I think if I spent a century there and come back I can appreciate what is up here, plus any residual sin on my soul will be washed out. I don't want anything special down there, just the normal treatment for any sinner. Throw me into any ring. Please, I am going insane up here. I don't know what else to do. I want to just get out of here, cleanse myself of all the perfection, and learn how to really appreciate what I have, and maybe feel proud of the moral life I lived on Earth. I left a little something in the envelope to help you make a clear decision. Humblest Askence, [Redacted]" The Gatekeeper didn't know if he could fill such a ludicrous task, but he didn't see why not. He felt a little afraid The Boss would get upset and fire him. The soul had said there was something in the envelope. The Gatekeeper tipped the envelope and a $250 gift card to Dave & Busters fell out. THIS GUY HAS A DEAL!!	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper. "And why would I do that?" "My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out." He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied. "No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper. "Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He sacrificed himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that." "Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell." "Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!" "You passed The Test, he didn't." The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes. "If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell." "That's cute." "Try me." The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did. "Very well. You may proceed." The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business. The man turned around. "Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too." "The angel?!" "Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy." The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side. ------------------------------------------- Feedback welcome! :D	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	Another day on the job and i still cant stand it, i cant stand to stare through that fence and unto a population deemed "unworthy" by god. The worst part of it is the screams useally in the form of "ass" or "what makes them better then us" they dont even stop to think that im just doing my job a messenger as it may, only one in five i can let past into this pardise. One after the other come walking up stairs and one after the other i have to choose wether to let in or reject, this morning something was different i cant explain it but i was more on edge then usall, their are two lines up the stairs one for the recently deceased (line a) and one for the poor souls comming from hell begging to be let in (line b),one afternoon a small boy comes up from line a he comes to me clueless and politly asks where he is, i put on a smile and respond "well son this is the gates of heaven" his eyes light up "how do i get in?" I stand up looking to his pocket "that wee file you have their if you pass it to me ill have a look and let you right in" he reachs for the paper and starts to hand it to me befor pausing. "Whats wrong" i ask, "grandpa!" The boys face shoots a smile as i look behind me to see an elderly man and women walking down the golden ramp to meet me at the gate. The man shakes my hand and introduces me to his wife shortly before crouching at the gate to give this boy a kiss " hello little man remember us" the boy replies " of course grandad " the lady approaches him also " i missed you so much". The man turns to me " well my good sir what are you waiting for let him in" i laugh a little and reply " yes sir as soon your grand son hands me his papers it wont take long" its moments like this that me forget how crappy my job is. The boy hands me the file, i walk back to my desk and sit down still looking at the happy reunion, I grab my quill and dip it in ink as i flicker through his sheets. i freeze before looking through again, i stare at his sins and read "no relationship with god" this means only one thing, no entrance. "Screw it i whisper to myself as i give my seal of approval before placing it down on my pile all reading holy. I walk to the gate pull out my key and open it the boy runs towards his grandparents who have their arms open waiting to embrace their long lost grandson, he reaches the gates and falls over as though he hit a wall "god dammit" i scream at the sky, "whats wrong" says the elderly women with a tear in her eye "I'm so sorry, i thought..." I whimper out to scared to tell them the news "heaven is only for those with out sin" the stairs turn red i can already hear saturn walk up "oh god" ( not many people know is that saturn is very compasanite towards normal people, sure he hates criminals but for the average joe who have very minor sins saturn gives the special treatment, he try's to be nice and gives a warm welcome especially if this average joe is a kid) "hey gabe" says the devil "hey Lucy i respond" ( we are also long time friends because of this i call him Lucy) "whos this little man?" Lucy takes a knee while giving a friendly wave "sin?" Lucy says as he looks over to me "didn't know god" i respond with a tear in my eye. The old man stairs at the boy and smacks at the invisible wall keeping him from leaving "please hes just a kid!" He says before looking at the devil "its okay sir i swear i will keep this child away from harm" lucy stands back up and puts out his hand "im sorry son but you have to come with me" the boy takes his hand and says "what about grandpa?" "Im sorry son but..." "Wait!" The old man yells from the other side of the gate "ill go with him", he turns to the women who starts to cry and kisses her on the forehead he now turns to me takes a deep breath and hands me his file "id like to move my residence to hell" I'm shocked, "sir you know that..." He stops me midway during my speech "well then" i take my pen and sign his paper, he walks towards the gate and steps through. Saturn takes a step back as the old man hugs this little boy, he stands up and turns to face lucy who is offering to shake his hand "i will supply the best hell has to offer, i will make hell the best i can for you just know that..." The man spits out "well dont ruin the surprise" the devil lets out a laugh and escorts the two down the stairs. I turn to the wife and help her up, she is now crying. She lets go and makes her way up the ramp and back into heaven. I take a seat back at desk put my feet up and watch the sky. I hate my job
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	The two demons laughed, the taller one patting his friend on the shoulder. "Give those kids a good beating for me, would ya?" The smaller nodded with a toothy grin and hopped into the gaping, fiery maw they stood beside. The Gatekeeper chuckled to himself as he walked back to his post. He reviewed his files for the day, all the usual sort. He'd learned the patterns: Regular cons, tormented souls, bumbling idiots. The occasional wayward sob, looking for forgiveness. He set the book of files down on his desk, sat with a relaxing sigh, and looked up to find an unfamiliar face before him. Very unfamiliar. Bright eyed, smile from ear to ear, clothed in Sunday's best. "Good Morning, Gatekeeper." The man said, brightly. The Gatekeeper took a moment to think, delaying with a sip of coffee. "Not my usual type... here on business, then?" He placed his coffee down and grabbed a pen. "Usually He sends His correspondence lower down. Not that I can't take a message." The man nodded, almost to cover his flickering smile. "Usually true, but I am on here on personal business, I am afraid." "Hmph." The Gatekeeper flipped through his files again. "Unscheduled, as well." The man leaned forward. "I want in." The two locked stares, and the Gatekeeper shrugged. "Sure, jump on in." he thumbed over his scaled shoulder as he spoke. "Water's warm, lose the suit." The man leaned back in his chair. "Huh. You mean that's it?" "What?" The Gatekeeper took another swig of coffee. "You were expecting a no?" "Well. Kind of. Yes." The Gatekeeper shrugged again. "How much can an eternity of bliss really last? I get it. You think the thought never crossed my mind?" Before the man could respond, a strained scream came from the pit behind the Gate. He peered over the demon's shoulder and saw a mere skeleton of a man pulling himself up over the rocky edge. The Gatekeeper rose from his chair, signalling with a finger to the man at his desk. "One second." He took a sheet from his book of files, and walked over to the new arrival. "How many times does this make it now, Dylan? I've lost count." The skeleton man wheezed with ashen lungs, "No more... than a century..." He smiled crookedly up at the Gatekeeper. The demon lifted the sheet in front of Dylan's sunken face. "This your signature, Dylan?" A nod yes. "And is it signed in your blood?" Another, yet hesitant, nod. The demon rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. "Dylan. Remember what I always tell you. It must be signed in the blood--" Dylan cut in, a look of remembrance on his face. "In-in-in the blood of my Sworn Master! For I serve no other, and-and to have drawn his blood... is to... rise above servitude!" The demon nodded along as Dylan rambled out the oath. He forced the form into Dylan's chest, and wrapped a strong grip around the frail man's throat. "Yes. Now go give him hell." "See you next Tuesday!" Dylan squeaked out, before the Gatekeeper tossed him back into the endless abyss. Returning to his desk, he found the man still sitting. "What was I saying?" He asked, absently. "Right." The demon sat again, leaning back to stretch out his back. "So, I get where you're coming from. First one I've seen from up There, but law of averages be damned. Maybe you're getting to full up?" The man glanced at the Gatekeeper's book of files. "How many do you see a day?" The Gatekeeper gruffed, "I stopped counting." "And I am the first to want to...leave?" "Well, not the first of course, but the first I've seen. And, far be it for me to deny you that temptation..." He tapped one of his black horns. "Not all the glitters..." The demon trailed off and returned to his files, speaking indirectly now to the man. "You'll want to move quickly. Things tend to back up come lunchtime." There was a quiet now, no sound but the distant crackle of the Underworld. Looking up, the Gatekeeper found the man to be gone. He looked back to the pit, and saw what he thought could be a form slipping through the rising smoke... but surely he wouldn't have...
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	"Wait, you want to leave Heaven?" My job as gatekeeper between Heaven and Hell meant I got a lot of requests from people asking to move in one direction (obviously), but I had never seen one going in the other direction before! Standing before me was an old man. Checking his entry, I saw he was a hard-working man who spent his life helping others. The usual perfect candidate for a slot in Heaven. "You heard me right, I want to go to Hell! And hurry, I'm running out of time!" "What do you mean?" I responded. "Running out of time for what?" "It's about to freeze over, and I want to see it happen!!!!!" I checked my entry again, and shook my head when I found it -- Cubs fans!
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The gatekeeper looked at me, a faint hint of amusement mixed in the confusion his multiple faces displayed. "I sift through applications after applications for transfer, all of them apologetic dissidents, some sincere, some foolish but all of them trying to escape hell and enter heaven." The middle face said, while the face on his right kept going through paper after paper and the one on his left stared at the my application. "But never has there been anyone who asked to the opposite, this is the first time isn't it Henry?" The middle face looked at the left face who replied, "Right you are Frank, this would be the very first time." "Interesting. Interesting, pull up his file." All of a sudden, I was surrounded by indecipherable symbols and graphs and charts appeared beside me. I stood in front of the three faced guardian of the gate as Frank seemingly manipulated the symbols to provide him with what I could only assume as different information regarding my life. Without any discernable effort, my hologram changed from me as a baby until my inevitable death at the hands of a drunk driver. Frank gently settled on one of his fists, his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought as he scanned through my life multiple times. "Adam Richards, male, single, died at the young age of 23. Good son. Good brother. Stayed out of trouble for most of your life. Three relationships, one of them a short fling, shortly after your last relationship." Jenny, I thought. Her radiant smile and warm hugs were always a welcome repose from the loneliness and depression that followed my relationship with Alice's wake. She wasn't Alice, not by a long shot. But human touch becomes something you crave after being denied for so long. "Maybe he could go to hell for that?" Henry asked out loud. "True. True. Hell is always big on adulterers." He whispered as the images beside me seemingly dissolved after his steely gaze focused on me. "May I ask why you would like to transfer to Hell and live eternity without God's presence and grace?" "Based on current circumstances." "And what circumstances would that be?" "Alice's recent admission to heaven." "You dare compare God's infinite grace to a mortal's?" The right face interjected, her face marked with fury. "How dare you!" "Quit being so melodramatic, everyone here has dealt with heartbreak. Yours is not as special as you would think it is." Henry said in a mocking tone, "How pathetic." "You don't understand. This is hell to me. I can't pretend feeling fine or okay everytime I see her. I can't just smile everytime she kisses him. It's killing me inside." "You would rather suffer the flames of hell rather than spend eternity in Heaven?" "If you would let me, yes." "You do not understand what you are asking for child." "I find more peace without her than with her. Please. This is torture. You must let me." "Mmm. This has turned out to be a real dilemma." "Just make him stay here, he'll get over it." "Or grant his wish and let his torture be his regret." She says in a cold and dismissive tone. "Please." "Open the gates. I leave the choice to you child, do what you will. You would be foolish to stray away from the presence of God but it is foolish as well to not be true to yourself." I stared beyond the open gates,heard the distant cries for help and forgiveness, smelled the faint odor of burning rubber, and saw my salvation. __________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading, I'm trying to get back to writing again after such a long break, please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms, or what you thought of it. Much love and appreciation.	The gatekeeper looked down from his podium to see the small girl standing below him. She could not have been more than 2 years old it looked, but she was by herself. He looked from the paper in his hand, then back at her, then back at it. It asked, astonishingly, to be let from Heaven to go to Hell. He couldn't understand why? It wasn't odd for a child to be in Heaven, but none had ever asked for something so strange. Usually, it was enough food, or a dog or a cat, but never this "Now are you sure you want to do this?" The man said, as he got off his stool and walked around, so she could see him as well as he saw her. "Do you not like it here?" "No, sir. I love it here. It has all I ever want, and it is all I have ever known. I wasn't on earth for very long, so I don't know it very well as some of the other people here do. But sir.." "Is it your parents you want to see?" He asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye "I'm certain that they would want you to be here instead of there dear. Don't you think so?" "Oh no, sir! It's not for my parents at all. I didn't know them, so I wouldn't know who to look for down there. No, that's not it. It's just" She said, pulling up on the bear she was holding "I... I had a sister. It's been so very long that I've been up here, and I still haven't seen her come. I have come every day to see if she has come up here, but she has not. We were in the womb together, a thing they call twins. She was my best friend and my whole world, and I was hers. But sir, I died and she didn't. I want to see her again, and I love her so much, that I would go to her if she is down there." The girl recounted, tears forming in her eyes "OH I see. Well..." The gatekeeper said. He hadn't thought this could have been it. There hadn't been any twin that he knew of, and he saw every face and knew every name that had come through the Peral Gates. "What was her name? I can see if she has come here for you" He said, standing, and offering his hand to her. He looked at the podium, and behind it, God's Castle. He knew he had to take the little girl to Him, He would fix it. "Her name was Victoria. Victoria Ann Dopa." She said, taking his hand and walking with him "Are we going to your records room, Mr. Gatekeeper?" "Yes, we are dear. And what is your name?" "Ann Victoria Dopa. Our names were reflections" She said, skipping along with his long strides
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper. "And why would I do that?" "My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out." He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied. "No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper. "Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He sacrificed himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that." "Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell." "Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!" "You passed The Test, he didn't." The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes. "If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell." "That's cute." "Try me." The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did. "Very well. You may proceed." The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business. The man turned around. "Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too." "The angel?!" "Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy." The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side. ------------------------------------------- Feedback welcome! :D	The gatekeeper looked down from his podium to see the small girl standing below him. She could not have been more than 2 years old it looked, but she was by herself. He looked from the paper in his hand, then back at her, then back at it. It asked, astonishingly, to be let from Heaven to go to Hell. He couldn't understand why? It wasn't odd for a child to be in Heaven, but none had ever asked for something so strange. Usually, it was enough food, or a dog or a cat, but never this "Now are you sure you want to do this?" The man said, as he got off his stool and walked around, so she could see him as well as he saw her. "Do you not like it here?" "No, sir. I love it here. It has all I ever want, and it is all I have ever known. I wasn't on earth for very long, so I don't know it very well as some of the other people here do. But sir.." "Is it your parents you want to see?" He asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye "I'm certain that they would want you to be here instead of there dear. Don't you think so?" "Oh no, sir! It's not for my parents at all. I didn't know them, so I wouldn't know who to look for down there. No, that's not it. It's just" She said, pulling up on the bear she was holding "I... I had a sister. It's been so very long that I've been up here, and I still haven't seen her come. I have come every day to see if she has come up here, but she has not. We were in the womb together, a thing they call twins. She was my best friend and my whole world, and I was hers. But sir, I died and she didn't. I want to see her again, and I love her so much, that I would go to her if she is down there." The girl recounted, tears forming in her eyes "OH I see. Well..." The gatekeeper said. He hadn't thought this could have been it. There hadn't been any twin that he knew of, and he saw every face and knew every name that had come through the Peral Gates. "What was her name? I can see if she has come here for you" He said, standing, and offering his hand to her. He looked at the podium, and behind it, God's Castle. He knew he had to take the little girl to Him, He would fix it. "Her name was Victoria. Victoria Ann Dopa." She said, taking his hand and walking with him "Are we going to your records room, Mr. Gatekeeper?" "Yes, we are dear. And what is your name?" "Ann Victoria Dopa. Our names were reflections" She said, skipping along with his long strides
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	The gatekeeper looked down from his podium to see the small girl standing below him. She could not have been more than 2 years old it looked, but she was by herself. He looked from the paper in his hand, then back at her, then back at it. It asked, astonishingly, to be let from Heaven to go to Hell. He couldn't understand why? It wasn't odd for a child to be in Heaven, but none had ever asked for something so strange. Usually, it was enough food, or a dog or a cat, but never this "Now are you sure you want to do this?" The man said, as he got off his stool and walked around, so she could see him as well as he saw her. "Do you not like it here?" "No, sir. I love it here. It has all I ever want, and it is all I have ever known. I wasn't on earth for very long, so I don't know it very well as some of the other people here do. But sir.." "Is it your parents you want to see?" He asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye "I'm certain that they would want you to be here instead of there dear. Don't you think so?" "Oh no, sir! It's not for my parents at all. I didn't know them, so I wouldn't know who to look for down there. No, that's not it. It's just" She said, pulling up on the bear she was holding "I... I had a sister. It's been so very long that I've been up here, and I still haven't seen her come. I have come every day to see if she has come up here, but she has not. We were in the womb together, a thing they call twins. She was my best friend and my whole world, and I was hers. But sir, I died and she didn't. I want to see her again, and I love her so much, that I would go to her if she is down there." The girl recounted, tears forming in her eyes "OH I see. Well..." The gatekeeper said. He hadn't thought this could have been it. There hadn't been any twin that he knew of, and he saw every face and knew every name that had come through the Peral Gates. "What was her name? I can see if she has come here for you" He said, standing, and offering his hand to her. He looked at the podium, and behind it, God's Castle. He knew he had to take the little girl to Him, He would fix it. "Her name was Victoria. Victoria Ann Dopa." She said, taking his hand and walking with him "Are we going to your records room, Mr. Gatekeeper?" "Yes, we are dear. And what is your name?" "Ann Victoria Dopa. Our names were reflections" She said, skipping along with his long strides
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	The gatekeeper looked down from his podium to see the small girl standing below him. She could not have been more than 2 years old it looked, but she was by herself. He looked from the paper in his hand, then back at her, then back at it. It asked, astonishingly, to be let from Heaven to go to Hell. He couldn't understand why? It wasn't odd for a child to be in Heaven, but none had ever asked for something so strange. Usually, it was enough food, or a dog or a cat, but never this "Now are you sure you want to do this?" The man said, as he got off his stool and walked around, so she could see him as well as he saw her. "Do you not like it here?" "No, sir. I love it here. It has all I ever want, and it is all I have ever known. I wasn't on earth for very long, so I don't know it very well as some of the other people here do. But sir.." "Is it your parents you want to see?" He asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye "I'm certain that they would want you to be here instead of there dear. Don't you think so?" "Oh no, sir! It's not for my parents at all. I didn't know them, so I wouldn't know who to look for down there. No, that's not it. It's just" She said, pulling up on the bear she was holding "I... I had a sister. It's been so very long that I've been up here, and I still haven't seen her come. I have come every day to see if she has come up here, but she has not. We were in the womb together, a thing they call twins. She was my best friend and my whole world, and I was hers. But sir, I died and she didn't. I want to see her again, and I love her so much, that I would go to her if she is down there." The girl recounted, tears forming in her eyes "OH I see. Well..." The gatekeeper said. He hadn't thought this could have been it. There hadn't been any twin that he knew of, and he saw every face and knew every name that had come through the Peral Gates. "What was her name? I can see if she has come here for you" He said, standing, and offering his hand to her. He looked at the podium, and behind it, God's Castle. He knew he had to take the little girl to Him, He would fix it. "Her name was Victoria. Victoria Ann Dopa." She said, taking his hand and walking with him "Are we going to your records room, Mr. Gatekeeper?" "Yes, we are dear. And what is your name?" "Ann Victoria Dopa. Our names were reflections" She said, skipping along with his long strides
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. The huge demon put down the flaming seal into the blood-red ink blotter with a sigh. He pushed his half-moon glasses up above bridge of his nose, massaged his dry eyes with thumb and forefinger and sighed. So many applications, so many approvals, so little variety. He looked over at the large clock ticking endlessly on the wall. The hands stuck at one second to midnight. “They make it too bloody easy.” he muttered to himself. Since the light had introduced that ridiculous decreed that confessing one's sins guaranteed entrance, his office has been inundated by transfer applications from the eternally damned seeking eternal forgiveness and a place in the heavenly horde. 'Amateurs' he added tilting his massive head back. He yawned eliciting some satisfying cracks down the length of his nobbly neck as he stretched his arms forward like a golem tipping a cliff. He reached for the seal. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... re-read... tut stamp. Scan, review, stamp. ... He didn't immediately hear the noise. His leathery ears were better suited to the howls and wails of the damned and simply skipped over the polite tapping that came from the door. Tap-tap, it went. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review, stamp. Tap-tap, again. Scan, review, stamp. Scan, review... THUMP! The demon looked down at the seal. That was odd... I could've sworn.. "Ahem, hello?" Millenia of unused, highly attuned reflexes all fired at once. CLAWS, FIRE, GLAMOUR, FLEX, AAAAAXE! The result of long-unused lightning reactions fighting for dominance within the giant's frame resulted in what could easily be mistaken for a jump of surprise. "Whaaa, gwaaagh!" On seeing the glowing shape of a small elderly angel peeping round the gnarled soot-scudded doorframe the demon flopped back in his creaking chair with his foul hand across his chest wheezing slightly. He stopped. Took a deep breath. Composed himself. "WHO DARES TO..." "Sorry, I don't mean to surprise you..." "DO NOT PRESUME TO..." boomed the demon The angel held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Sorry, again, sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," he said, interrupting the demon again "but there is no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are and know what you do..." The demon stared in bewilderment. "... you see, I am in the office opposite? Do you know it? The bright one? It is just that all day and all night all I can hear is you shuffling paper, whacking that mighty stamp of yours and growling to yourself." "Oh, well, i'm..." muttered the demon The demon's eyes focussed. An understanding shadow crept slowly across his sharp features. He composed himself rising to his full height in his chair "TOO NOISY FOR YOU IS IT, PUNY LIGHT WALKER? WELL I SUGGEST THAT YOU GO..." Again the angel cut him off. "Oh no, not at all, it is nothing like that." The demon mentally stumbled, dropped back into his chair and let out an exasperated pant. "So, what is it that you..." he muttered "Well," continued the angel in a matter-of-fact way "I am your, as it were, opposite number." The demon lifted his eyebrows. "Over the other side." The eyebrows moved even higher "Applicants keen to move from hell to heaven have to apply through your office and applicants keen to move from heaven to hell come through mine." The eyebrows were joined by an inquisitive head tilt. "As I am sure you can imagine, there is not much for me to do over there. I mean, who would want to swap an endlessness of happiness for the infinite sadness? Not to ignore the fact that Heaven is filling up with all sorts of a-hole now because of the whole forgiveness thing." The eyebrows, and tilted head were joined by a slow nod. The angel paused. Took deep breath. "So, I was wondering..." The raised eyebrows and nodding head were joined by some fleshy pursed lips. "...if your would consider..." And some slight nostril flaring. "... a little job swap." Everything stopped. Mid-nod. Mid-raise. Mid-purse. Mid-flare. A rather awkward silence followed. There followed a further deeper silence. Then, so slowly, that the angel was unsure whether it was actually happening, the demon's taloned hand moved up to his face, settling into a satisfactorily comfortable position of consideration. "HMMMMMM...." growled the beast. Then, emphasising every syllable like it were a slice of juicy steak to be savoured not rushed,: "IN-TER-ES-TING!" The angel started: "I'm sorry, I know it is..." "YOU DO REALISE THAT WE CANNOT DO SUCH A THING..." he barked. The angel's face sank and he started towards the door "... WITHOUT GOING THROUGH THE OFFICIAL CHANNELS." roared the demon reaching for a stack of forms. The angel turned, his face started to resurface. "HELL KNOWS I COULD DO WITH A BREAK. AND IF I CAN SPREAD A LITTLE LIFETIME'S WORTH OF MISERY, ALL THE BETTER." He thrust a singed document at the angel. "FILL THIS OUT. THEN THERE IS JUST THE FORMALITY OF THE SEAL..." The angel excitedly smiled and started scribbling on the parchment with a quill. "DO YOU HAVE THE ERM… ONE FOR ME?" "Oh yes of course, in my office, the pile on the left" The demon got up and marched across the stony floor. “Oh, and thank you for this amazing opportunity. I really need a bit of a change of scenery” said the angel The demon’s humongous frame slowly turned. “NO, IT IS I WHO SHOULD BE THANKFUL. I HAVEN’T HAD A HOLIDAY SINCE… EVER” he glared at the clock then continuing out of the door. There was a shrieking scraping sound of unstoppable horns on doorframe. There was a crunching scrabbling sound of moveable furniture. There was a satisfying squeak of a reclinable office chair. (and what sounded suspiciously like a muffled demonic giggle.) “You will need one from the pile on the left.” shouted the angel. “I SEE ONLY ONE PILE. IT IS DUSTY.” boomed the demon. “That’s the one” he replied. Life was indeed boring over that side. The angel clambered up the charred throne and placed his application form square on the desk in front of him, flattening it carefully with a soft hand. After a few moments of diabolical scratching from across the corridor there boomed: "THE SEAL?" The angel stared at the clock. One minute to midnight. “Ready when you are” he called back "THREE..." He picked up the flaming seal, dipped it in the simmering crimson blotter. “TWO” The seal hovered like a hellish phoenix over the ‘Approved’ field. “ONE!” "This is gonna be fun!" chucked the angel.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper. "And why would I do that?" "My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out." He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied. "No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper. "Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He sacrificed himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that." "Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell." "Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!" "You passed The Test, he didn't." The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes. "If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell." "That's cute." "Try me." The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did. "Very well. You may proceed." The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business. The man turned around. "Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too." "The angel?!" "Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy." The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side. ------------------------------------------- Feedback welcome! :D	The gatekeeper looked at me, a faint hint of amusement mixed in the confusion his multiple faces displayed. "I sift through applications after applications for transfer, all of them apologetic dissidents, some sincere, some foolish but all of them trying to escape hell and enter heaven." The middle face said, while the face on his right kept going through paper after paper and the one on his left stared at the my application. "But never has there been anyone who asked to the opposite, this is the first time isn't it Henry?" The middle face looked at the left face who replied, "Right you are Frank, this would be the very first time." "Interesting. Interesting, pull up his file." All of a sudden, I was surrounded by indecipherable symbols and graphs and charts appeared beside me. I stood in front of the three faced guardian of the gate as Frank seemingly manipulated the symbols to provide him with what I could only assume as different information regarding my life. Without any discernable effort, my hologram changed from me as a baby until my inevitable death at the hands of a drunk driver. Frank gently settled on one of his fists, his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought as he scanned through my life multiple times. "Adam Richards, male, single, died at the young age of 23. Good son. Good brother. Stayed out of trouble for most of your life. Three relationships, one of them a short fling, shortly after your last relationship." Jenny, I thought. Her radiant smile and warm hugs were always a welcome repose from the loneliness and depression that followed my relationship with Alice's wake. She wasn't Alice, not by a long shot. But human touch becomes something you crave after being denied for so long. "Maybe he could go to hell for that?" Henry asked out loud. "True. True. Hell is always big on adulterers." He whispered as the images beside me seemingly dissolved after his steely gaze focused on me. "May I ask why you would like to transfer to Hell and live eternity without God's presence and grace?" "Based on current circumstances." "And what circumstances would that be?" "Alice's recent admission to heaven." "You dare compare God's infinite grace to a mortal's?" The right face interjected, her face marked with fury. "How dare you!" "Quit being so melodramatic, everyone here has dealt with heartbreak. Yours is not as special as you would think it is." Henry said in a mocking tone, "How pathetic." "You don't understand. This is hell to me. I can't pretend feeling fine or okay everytime I see her. I can't just smile everytime she kisses him. It's killing me inside." "You would rather suffer the flames of hell rather than spend eternity in Heaven?" "If you would let me, yes." "You do not understand what you are asking for child." "I find more peace without her than with her. Please. This is torture. You must let me." "Mmm. This has turned out to be a real dilemma." "Just make him stay here, he'll get over it." "Or grant his wish and let his torture be his regret." She says in a cold and dismissive tone. "Please." "Open the gates. I leave the choice to you child, do what you will. You would be foolish to stray away from the presence of God but it is foolish as well to not be true to yourself." I stared beyond the open gates,heard the distant cries for help and forgiveness, smelled the faint odor of burning rubber, and saw my salvation. __________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading, I'm trying to get back to writing again after such a long break, please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms, or what you thought of it. Much love and appreciation.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	The gatekeeper looked at me, a faint hint of amusement mixed in the confusion his multiple faces displayed. "I sift through applications after applications for transfer, all of them apologetic dissidents, some sincere, some foolish but all of them trying to escape hell and enter heaven." The middle face said, while the face on his right kept going through paper after paper and the one on his left stared at the my application. "But never has there been anyone who asked to the opposite, this is the first time isn't it Henry?" The middle face looked at the left face who replied, "Right you are Frank, this would be the very first time." "Interesting. Interesting, pull up his file." All of a sudden, I was surrounded by indecipherable symbols and graphs and charts appeared beside me. I stood in front of the three faced guardian of the gate as Frank seemingly manipulated the symbols to provide him with what I could only assume as different information regarding my life. Without any discernable effort, my hologram changed from me as a baby until my inevitable death at the hands of a drunk driver. Frank gently settled on one of his fists, his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought as he scanned through my life multiple times. "Adam Richards, male, single, died at the young age of 23. Good son. Good brother. Stayed out of trouble for most of your life. Three relationships, one of them a short fling, shortly after your last relationship." Jenny, I thought. Her radiant smile and warm hugs were always a welcome repose from the loneliness and depression that followed my relationship with Alice's wake. She wasn't Alice, not by a long shot. But human touch becomes something you crave after being denied for so long. "Maybe he could go to hell for that?" Henry asked out loud. "True. True. Hell is always big on adulterers." He whispered as the images beside me seemingly dissolved after his steely gaze focused on me. "May I ask why you would like to transfer to Hell and live eternity without God's presence and grace?" "Based on current circumstances." "And what circumstances would that be?" "Alice's recent admission to heaven." "You dare compare God's infinite grace to a mortal's?" The right face interjected, her face marked with fury. "How dare you!" "Quit being so melodramatic, everyone here has dealt with heartbreak. Yours is not as special as you would think it is." Henry said in a mocking tone, "How pathetic." "You don't understand. This is hell to me. I can't pretend feeling fine or okay everytime I see her. I can't just smile everytime she kisses him. It's killing me inside." "You would rather suffer the flames of hell rather than spend eternity in Heaven?" "If you would let me, yes." "You do not understand what you are asking for child." "I find more peace without her than with her. Please. This is torture. You must let me." "Mmm. This has turned out to be a real dilemma." "Just make him stay here, he'll get over it." "Or grant his wish and let his torture be his regret." She says in a cold and dismissive tone. "Please." "Open the gates. I leave the choice to you child, do what you will. You would be foolish to stray away from the presence of God but it is foolish as well to not be true to yourself." I stared beyond the open gates,heard the distant cries for help and forgiveness, smelled the faint odor of burning rubber, and saw my salvation. __________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading, I'm trying to get back to writing again after such a long break, please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms, or what you thought of it. Much love and appreciation.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	The gatekeeper looked at me, a faint hint of amusement mixed in the confusion his multiple faces displayed. "I sift through applications after applications for transfer, all of them apologetic dissidents, some sincere, some foolish but all of them trying to escape hell and enter heaven." The middle face said, while the face on his right kept going through paper after paper and the one on his left stared at the my application. "But never has there been anyone who asked to the opposite, this is the first time isn't it Henry?" The middle face looked at the left face who replied, "Right you are Frank, this would be the very first time." "Interesting. Interesting, pull up his file." All of a sudden, I was surrounded by indecipherable symbols and graphs and charts appeared beside me. I stood in front of the three faced guardian of the gate as Frank seemingly manipulated the symbols to provide him with what I could only assume as different information regarding my life. Without any discernable effort, my hologram changed from me as a baby until my inevitable death at the hands of a drunk driver. Frank gently settled on one of his fists, his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought as he scanned through my life multiple times. "Adam Richards, male, single, died at the young age of 23. Good son. Good brother. Stayed out of trouble for most of your life. Three relationships, one of them a short fling, shortly after your last relationship." Jenny, I thought. Her radiant smile and warm hugs were always a welcome repose from the loneliness and depression that followed my relationship with Alice's wake. She wasn't Alice, not by a long shot. But human touch becomes something you crave after being denied for so long. "Maybe he could go to hell for that?" Henry asked out loud. "True. True. Hell is always big on adulterers." He whispered as the images beside me seemingly dissolved after his steely gaze focused on me. "May I ask why you would like to transfer to Hell and live eternity without God's presence and grace?" "Based on current circumstances." "And what circumstances would that be?" "Alice's recent admission to heaven." "You dare compare God's infinite grace to a mortal's?" The right face interjected, her face marked with fury. "How dare you!" "Quit being so melodramatic, everyone here has dealt with heartbreak. Yours is not as special as you would think it is." Henry said in a mocking tone, "How pathetic." "You don't understand. This is hell to me. I can't pretend feeling fine or okay everytime I see her. I can't just smile everytime she kisses him. It's killing me inside." "You would rather suffer the flames of hell rather than spend eternity in Heaven?" "If you would let me, yes." "You do not understand what you are asking for child." "I find more peace without her than with her. Please. This is torture. You must let me." "Mmm. This has turned out to be a real dilemma." "Just make him stay here, he'll get over it." "Or grant his wish and let his torture be his regret." She says in a cold and dismissive tone. "Please." "Open the gates. I leave the choice to you child, do what you will. You would be foolish to stray away from the presence of God but it is foolish as well to not be true to yourself." I stared beyond the open gates,heard the distant cries for help and forgiveness, smelled the faint odor of burning rubber, and saw my salvation. __________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading, I'm trying to get back to writing again after such a long break, please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms, or what you thought of it. Much love and appreciation.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper. "And why would I do that?" "My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out." He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied. "No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper. "Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He sacrificed himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that." "Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell." "Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!" "You passed The Test, he didn't." The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes. "If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell." "That's cute." "Try me." The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did. "Very well. You may proceed." The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business. The man turned around. "Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too." "The angel?!" "Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy." The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side. ------------------------------------------- Feedback welcome! :D	The Gatekeeper walked into his office with his morning coffee. He wasn't looking forward to the routine of doing paperwork today, but it was his job. At least he had his coffee, black, bitter, and hot. He sat down to work on the applications that had been sent in. He didn't bother looking at the two baskets. One was marked "Hell" and the other one "Heaven". The one from Hell was always heaping over and the task of getting through all of it in a day was a chore, but the one from Heaven had been empty for decades (the last piece of mail was some guy complaining about Hitler being there). The souls in Heaven were just too happy to think about anything outside of their perfect world. The Gatekeeper was done with all the paperwork in the Hell basket and was about to call it quits for the day, when he noticed a fresh envelope in the Heaven basket. That is strange, He thought. He decided to sit back down and open it. "Dear Gatekeeper, I know, I know, you only take applications, but hear me out. There is a reason I didn't fill one out; that reason being, there is no checkbox to go to Hell. Your application only seems to be for requests to go to Heaven. I just really want to go to Hell. I don't like it here, really. I feel like I am with a bunch of snobs. The food is all great and I am never hungry. Anything I want just shows up in my hand or nearby. The sights are stunning. Worst of all the sex is just too good. Nothing feels right. I am not asking for eternity; I just really want a vacation. I think if I spent a century there and come back I can appreciate what is up here, plus any residual sin on my soul will be washed out. I don't want anything special down there, just the normal treatment for any sinner. Throw me into any ring. Please, I am going insane up here. I don't know what else to do. I want to just get out of here, cleanse myself of all the perfection, and learn how to really appreciate what I have, and maybe feel proud of the moral life I lived on Earth. I left a little something in the envelope to help you make a clear decision. Humblest Askence, [Redacted]" The Gatekeeper didn't know if he could fill such a ludicrous task, but he didn't see why not. He felt a little afraid The Boss would get upset and fire him. The soul had said there was something in the envelope. The Gatekeeper tipped the envelope and a $250 gift card to Dave & Busters fell out. THIS GUY HAS A DEAL!!
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	The Gatekeeper walked into his office with his morning coffee. He wasn't looking forward to the routine of doing paperwork today, but it was his job. At least he had his coffee, black, bitter, and hot. He sat down to work on the applications that had been sent in. He didn't bother looking at the two baskets. One was marked "Hell" and the other one "Heaven". The one from Hell was always heaping over and the task of getting through all of it in a day was a chore, but the one from Heaven had been empty for decades (the last piece of mail was some guy complaining about Hitler being there). The souls in Heaven were just too happy to think about anything outside of their perfect world. The Gatekeeper was done with all the paperwork in the Hell basket and was about to call it quits for the day, when he noticed a fresh envelope in the Heaven basket. That is strange, He thought. He decided to sit back down and open it. "Dear Gatekeeper, I know, I know, you only take applications, but hear me out. There is a reason I didn't fill one out; that reason being, there is no checkbox to go to Hell. Your application only seems to be for requests to go to Heaven. I just really want to go to Hell. I don't like it here, really. I feel like I am with a bunch of snobs. The food is all great and I am never hungry. Anything I want just shows up in my hand or nearby. The sights are stunning. Worst of all the sex is just too good. Nothing feels right. I am not asking for eternity; I just really want a vacation. I think if I spent a century there and come back I can appreciate what is up here, plus any residual sin on my soul will be washed out. I don't want anything special down there, just the normal treatment for any sinner. Throw me into any ring. Please, I am going insane up here. I don't know what else to do. I want to just get out of here, cleanse myself of all the perfection, and learn how to really appreciate what I have, and maybe feel proud of the moral life I lived on Earth. I left a little something in the envelope to help you make a clear decision. Humblest Askence, [Redacted]" The Gatekeeper didn't know if he could fill such a ludicrous task, but he didn't see why not. He felt a little afraid The Boss would get upset and fire him. The soul had said there was something in the envelope. The Gatekeeper tipped the envelope and a $250 gift card to Dave & Busters fell out. THIS GUY HAS A DEAL!!
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	The Gatekeeper walked into his office with his morning coffee. He wasn't looking forward to the routine of doing paperwork today, but it was his job. At least he had his coffee, black, bitter, and hot. He sat down to work on the applications that had been sent in. He didn't bother looking at the two baskets. One was marked "Hell" and the other one "Heaven". The one from Hell was always heaping over and the task of getting through all of it in a day was a chore, but the one from Heaven had been empty for decades (the last piece of mail was some guy complaining about Hitler being there). The souls in Heaven were just too happy to think about anything outside of their perfect world. The Gatekeeper was done with all the paperwork in the Hell basket and was about to call it quits for the day, when he noticed a fresh envelope in the Heaven basket. That is strange, He thought. He decided to sit back down and open it. "Dear Gatekeeper, I know, I know, you only take applications, but hear me out. There is a reason I didn't fill one out; that reason being, there is no checkbox to go to Hell. Your application only seems to be for requests to go to Heaven. I just really want to go to Hell. I don't like it here, really. I feel like I am with a bunch of snobs. The food is all great and I am never hungry. Anything I want just shows up in my hand or nearby. The sights are stunning. Worst of all the sex is just too good. Nothing feels right. I am not asking for eternity; I just really want a vacation. I think if I spent a century there and come back I can appreciate what is up here, plus any residual sin on my soul will be washed out. I don't want anything special down there, just the normal treatment for any sinner. Throw me into any ring. Please, I am going insane up here. I don't know what else to do. I want to just get out of here, cleanse myself of all the perfection, and learn how to really appreciate what I have, and maybe feel proud of the moral life I lived on Earth. I left a little something in the envelope to help you make a clear decision. Humblest Askence, [Redacted]" The Gatekeeper didn't know if he could fill such a ludicrous task, but he didn't see why not. He felt a little afraid The Boss would get upset and fire him. The soul had said there was something in the envelope. The Gatekeeper tipped the envelope and a $250 gift card to Dave & Busters fell out. THIS GUY HAS A DEAL!!
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	"Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper. "And why would I do that?" "My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out." He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied. "No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper. "Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He sacrificed himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that." "Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell." "Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!" "You passed The Test, he didn't." The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes. "If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell." "That's cute." "Try me." The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did. "Very well. You may proceed." The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business. The man turned around. "Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too." "The angel?!" "Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy." The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side. ------------------------------------------- Feedback welcome! :D
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	"Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper. "And why would I do that?" "My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out." He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied. "No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper. "Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He sacrificed himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that." "Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell." "Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!" "You passed The Test, he didn't." The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes. "If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell." "That's cute." "Try me." The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did. "Very well. You may proceed." The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business. The man turned around. "Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too." "The angel?!" "Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy." The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side. ------------------------------------------- Feedback welcome! :D
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	The guilt... I couldn't take it anymore. I should have never wished on that shooting star. My only wish as a naive and pissed off 20 year old was to fluke God, just once, simply to spite this "all knowing being". My parents raised me Catholic but as I grew older, I developed my own set of beliefs. I remember the exact date I wished on that damn star... a fucking burning ball of gas and rock. September 27, 1999. I wished, "If there is a God, may I be the only one to truly fool Him." I remember my death, but none of the pain; the happiness, but none of the horror. I didn't see some bright light at the end of the tunnel, no. I saw God. Terrified, I was speechless when his voice thundered through me, "Hello, Brent." Without hesitation he took me into his warm, loving, peaceful embrace. I had never felt so safe... so serene. He then stepped back and asked me, "Have you found joy in your life, Brent?" I, with my voice shaking with fear, muttered, "Yes Sir." An enormous smile overtook His face and His eyes shined with the most astounding sparkle. He then asked, "Have you brought joy to others?" I couldn't keep my head up. Looking to what was the purest of golden floors, I pondered my life knowing that I had made mistakes. Gently touching my chin, He raised my head until our eyes met again, His gaze still as fulfilling as before. He encouraged me to reflect on the good times rather than the bad, but without saying a word. It was entirely in His touch... His presence. Finally, after having the most vivid visions of my mother's grand smile, my wife's gentle kiss, and my children's playful giggles, I answered Him, "Yes Sir." Now I could really see the immense cheerfulness that was written all over His face. Last but not least, He stepped back, yet again, and asked with a suddenly stern and strict voice, "Have you had faith in me throughout your life?" "He knows," I thought. He had to know I was an atheist. I thought I was going to be damned to Hell. In an instant, the look on His face transformed from the happiest, most peaceful being I had ever seen, to the face of someone that truly showed their all-powerfulness. His lips were pursed, eyebrows angled, and jaws clinched. As his all seeing eyes pierced my soul, I felt a burning sensation within me. My palms began to sweat and I could see the suspicion growing in His ominous glare. What did I do? I did what I thought any human would do; take my chances. As I weighed my options I thought, "What's the worst that could happen? He knows I'm lying and sends me to the Down Under to spend eternity with Satan? Or maybe He isn't the all-knowing being that so many believe Him to be and I get away with it." I lied. I lied to God. With as straight a face I could keep, I answered a third time, "Yes Sir." He paused. For what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds, we stood there in silence. This was no type of silence I had ever experienced. It was the type of silence that leaves your ears ringing, your thoughts racing, and your hands trembling. "Shit! I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up!" I thought to myself as He stared into my eyes. My heart pounding, thoughts screaming, knees shaking, a clock tick tick ticking in my head... the tension snapped. Once more the expressions of happiness and joy overtook his face. He then said, "Welcome to Heaven, Brent." END PART 1	It was just another regular monday in hell. Larry the gatekeeper greeted the demons who came back from their weekend trips to heaven and the unfortunate people who just died and were sentenced to eternal suffering in hell. Larry sat down his desk at the gate and started to check everyone who came trough the gate. The first one was a muscular and scarred mid forty guy . "Hm I see, a convicted rapist and murderer. Classic. Please proceed to the right and line yourself into the queue with the other murderers and rapists." The next one was a young woman. "Ah greed, one of the oldest motives to put someone six feet under. Please go to the right. Next was a guy in a expensive suit. "Banker, I see. To the left with you together with the thiefs, burglars and lawyers." And it went on like that until a person with a cloak and hood came to teh desk. "Wait, thats odd." Larry looked trough the papers. "Here it says you were kicked out of hell. What the favorite workplace have you done to achieve that? And why would you ever come back here? Dont worry. I wont judge you. I just need a reason for the records." The guy took off his clothes, revealed a green armor and whipped out a double barreled shotgun. "Unfinished business."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	It was just another regular monday in hell. Larry the gatekeeper greeted the demons who came back from their weekend trips to heaven and the unfortunate people who just died and were sentenced to eternal suffering in hell. Larry sat down his desk at the gate and started to check everyone who came trough the gate. The first one was a muscular and scarred mid forty guy . "Hm I see, a convicted rapist and murderer. Classic. Please proceed to the right and line yourself into the queue with the other murderers and rapists." The next one was a young woman. "Ah greed, one of the oldest motives to put someone six feet under. Please go to the right. Next was a guy in a expensive suit. "Banker, I see. To the left with you together with the thiefs, burglars and lawyers." And it went on like that until a person with a cloak and hood came to teh desk. "Wait, thats odd." Larry looked trough the papers. "Here it says you were kicked out of hell. What the favorite workplace have you done to achieve that? And why would you ever come back here? Dont worry. I wont judge you. I just need a reason for the records." The guy took off his clothes, revealed a green armor and whipped out a double barreled shotgun. "Unfinished business."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	'I see you want to go to hell?' 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate everyone, no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.' 'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?' 'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.' 'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.'	September 28th, 2105 By noon, Kevin could already consider this a very busy day. Not quite as busy as the day Osama and his ilk showed up demanding virgins, not quite as busy the day that purple-lipped cult leader and all his followers had arrived, but it was still a busy day. "NEXT", Kevin yelled impatiently without looking up, "what I wouldn't give to be working at the DMV again" he thought, "at least there the idiots in the waiting room weren't as chatty". No one in line at the DMV ever starts a sentence with "But Mr. Manson said", "But the voice in my head said", "But god said", no they sure did not. At the DMV he wouldn't have to hear Donald Trump say "you've made a "UGE" mistake no less than thrice a day. "No". "No." "No." He pondered how long it'd been since he'd said a word other than no. While he sat pondering a meek looking man had sidled up to face Kevin, eyes down, "I'd like to go to hell please." the man said. His voice a whisper. This got Kevin's attention. "You'd like to go...to hell?" Kevin said loudly? Everyone in the room stopped airing their grievances to listen. "yes sir I'd very much like to go to hell if I could" "...why?" Kevin asked, utterly dumbfounded. "Well, you see sir, I'd very much like to punch Adolf in the face."
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	"You heard me, Gatekeeper" Every fiber of my immortal being winced at the mere thought of it, every shred of my soul refusing to entertain the idea of perverting the eternal, divine halls with the notion that the lord could be wrong! "I need to get to Hell, Gatekeeper, I must find a witness" I cannot help myself but to erupt into a storm of thunder like laughter, the frustrated soul of a human man scowling in disbelief and annoyance below me. "Forgive me Human I mean no disrespect, I laughed only at your naïve assertion" I asserted, it is unfitting a tool of the lord to be rude. "I'm a lawyer and I made it to heaven, that should go at least some way to proving the legitimacy of my case" the man jested, the same conflict deescalation he has used time and time again in his mortal life, each time avoiding the pits of Hell, this time used to gain entry to that darkest of places. "Tell me: What case would that be again?" I commanded. "The lord must be responsible for the sins of at least some of the sinners-" he stopped halfway, seeing the disbelief command my brow to my beard, a pity I did not need or ask for. "I can see you have already made up your mind, Gatekeeper, but I beg you, hear me out" he presumes to know my mind, insolent, however I shall forgive him and stow my feelings until the human has spoken his part. "Continue!" I boom. "Follow the Logic here Gatekeeper, the Lord created every aspect of every mortal?" "Correct" "And he created every aspect of the world in which they existed as mortals" "Correct!" "And he is omnipotent, so he knew everything that would transpire in his creation and could make any change he deemed fit" "This had better have a point Human, there is literally armies seeking an audience to go the other way" I stated firmly "Gatekeeper I once met a child who stole food from the market to survive, whose parents abandoned as a mere two year old due to her deformity, I had taken her food and blankets when I found her and she died in my arms sick and starved, she isn't here in heaven." I look deeply into his soul and I find no deceit. "Few people make it here, Human" I struggle to answer. "Gatekeeper, the Lord clearly has made some people who at the moment of their birth were already disqualified from heaven in the eyes of the Lord" "Who might that be, Human?" I genuinely inquire. "Every sinner, Gatekeeper. The Lord already knew what situations each mortal child will face and how they would react, yet did nothing to help them, stop them or inform them directly of the test, it is my understanding that this needlessly dooms most mortals to damnation." "Human, mortality requires free will, else no distinction between the souls in hell and the souls in heaven can be made, if the Lord simply told everyone how to earn heaven in mortality then every single one would simply follow the instruction and live eternally in a paradise unearned. "Well Gatekeeper, that's the thing, I need a witness cast into Hell itself that has met the Lord and chose to disobey, one of a few of the lords former servants, The devil himself." I recoiled at the mention of that fowl title, the man now was staring expectantly, patiently awaiting his answer. I had heard his plea, a most unique stance for one already in heaven. As I sat at my station simultaneously an eternity and an instant and ponder this dilemma I fall pray to both my loyalty to the Lord and my interest in the Humans proposition. As I opened the gate, for the first time I feel a newfound empathy for its inhabitants. That, My lord is the first reason I sentence you to Hell.	I sit between damnation and paradise. On my left stands a wrought iron gate with steps leading to unspoken horrors. On my right, a golden gate with a crystal staircase spiraling up to eternal bliss. Between the two gates stands an ordinary office chair. That’s my chair, the seat of the Second Judge. It’s not as impressive as the First Judge’s, but hey, at least it has good lumbar support. Every day, I listen as wretched souls crawl in from Hell and plead their case. I donated to the poor. I picked up trash. I saved that cat. Some of them ask politely, others yell and cry aloud. But often, it makes very little difference. There’s a limited number of spots available up in paradise and only an exceptional few succeed. So, imagine my surprise when, for the first time in millennia, I hear footsteps coming from the golden gates. I turn and see a kindly old lady, dressed in white, coming through. “Good morning, sir.” she says, her voice clear and ringing – a stark contrast to the voices I’ve gotten used to. “I wish to apply for Hell.” “Miss…” I pull her files out from thin air, “Ms. Fellowes. For what crime you’ve committed do you think you deserve to be punished eternally?” “Sir, I litter on the beach. Every time. Over my lifetime, I must’ve left at least a hundred pounds of trash behind.” “Actually,” I flip through her files, “It’s just seven pounds.” “Oh. Well, then. In church, I often fall asleep. I have made slight of our heavenly father. I deserve to be punished.” “No, that's not enough–” “As a kid, I killed so many ants! I stepped on them for no reason at all!” I sigh. “Ms. Fellowes, do you want to tell me why you’re really here?” She swallows. “It’s… it’s my son. I wish to bring him to heaven.” “What!” “He’s not a bad kid! It’s just… just that I’ve never been around. His dad died before he was born and I had to work all the time. That’s why he found friends in… in bad company.” “Ms. Fellowes, I’m sorry to hear that, but–” “How could you blame him for something beyond his control?” she cries, “You lot set him up to fail! This is your fault!” She steps forward and swings a punch at my face. As I reel from the surprise attack, she steals my keys and jams them into the wrought iron gate. Then, she leaps down the stairs in search of her son. “Ow…” My jaw is definitely dislocated. Nursing it with a bag of ice, I quickly close both gates and change the locks. I should really get two of those guardian angels Peter keeps talking about. After a while, Ms. Fellowes returns with her son. She tries using the stolen keys to no avail. “Go away!” I shout. “You are not welcome here!” “Sir, sir. Please!” She cries. “Leave me here, I’ll take his place.” I turn to look at the pair. Tears stream down her face. Her son is dazed and unaware, gazing into the distance. She would give up her place for her son? Something stirs inside me. I sigh and grab her son’s file. “I see… I see that your son saved a cat, once.” I stand and open both gates. “You may both pass.” Ms. Fellowes starts to cry. She throws her arms around me. “Thank you, thank you so much.” I pat her hair softly. Maybe I should do this more often. I am the Second Judge after all – perhaps I could start believing in second chances.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	Death, the gatekeeper of hell, looked down upon the man standing before him. "Regardless of your reasoning, one cannot simply choose to change the realm in which they have been placed at the time of their judgement. However, I am in need of some amusement. Why do you want to enter the depths of hell when you've been fairly chosen to live in heaven?" "My ex is up there, man." Death opens a portal to the underworld without hesitation. "Get in."	I sit between damnation and paradise. On my left stands a wrought iron gate with steps leading to unspoken horrors. On my right, a golden gate with a crystal staircase spiraling up to eternal bliss. Between the two gates stands an ordinary office chair. That’s my chair, the seat of the Second Judge. It’s not as impressive as the First Judge’s, but hey, at least it has good lumbar support. Every day, I listen as wretched souls crawl in from Hell and plead their case. I donated to the poor. I picked up trash. I saved that cat. Some of them ask politely, others yell and cry aloud. But often, it makes very little difference. There’s a limited number of spots available up in paradise and only an exceptional few succeed. So, imagine my surprise when, for the first time in millennia, I hear footsteps coming from the golden gates. I turn and see a kindly old lady, dressed in white, coming through. “Good morning, sir.” she says, her voice clear and ringing – a stark contrast to the voices I’ve gotten used to. “I wish to apply for Hell.” “Miss…” I pull her files out from thin air, “Ms. Fellowes. For what crime you’ve committed do you think you deserve to be punished eternally?” “Sir, I litter on the beach. Every time. Over my lifetime, I must’ve left at least a hundred pounds of trash behind.” “Actually,” I flip through her files, “It’s just seven pounds.” “Oh. Well, then. In church, I often fall asleep. I have made slight of our heavenly father. I deserve to be punished.” “No, that's not enough–” “As a kid, I killed so many ants! I stepped on them for no reason at all!” I sigh. “Ms. Fellowes, do you want to tell me why you’re really here?” She swallows. “It’s… it’s my son. I wish to bring him to heaven.” “What!” “He’s not a bad kid! It’s just… just that I’ve never been around. His dad died before he was born and I had to work all the time. That’s why he found friends in… in bad company.” “Ms. Fellowes, I’m sorry to hear that, but–” “How could you blame him for something beyond his control?” she cries, “You lot set him up to fail! This is your fault!” She steps forward and swings a punch at my face. As I reel from the surprise attack, she steals my keys and jams them into the wrought iron gate. Then, she leaps down the stairs in search of her son. “Ow…” My jaw is definitely dislocated. Nursing it with a bag of ice, I quickly close both gates and change the locks. I should really get two of those guardian angels Peter keeps talking about. After a while, Ms. Fellowes returns with her son. She tries using the stolen keys to no avail. “Go away!” I shout. “You are not welcome here!” “Sir, sir. Please!” She cries. “Leave me here, I’ll take his place.” I turn to look at the pair. Tears stream down her face. Her son is dazed and unaware, gazing into the distance. She would give up her place for her son? Something stirs inside me. I sigh and grab her son’s file. “I see… I see that your son saved a cat, once.” I stand and open both gates. “You may both pass.” Ms. Fellowes starts to cry. She throws her arms around me. “Thank you, thank you so much.” I pat her hair softly. Maybe I should do this more often. I am the Second Judge after all – perhaps I could start believing in second chances.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	Death, the gatekeeper of hell, looked down upon the man standing before him. "Regardless of your reasoning, one cannot simply choose to change the realm in which they have been placed at the time of their judgement. However, I am in need of some amusement. Why do you want to enter the depths of hell when you've been fairly chosen to live in heaven?" "My ex is up there, man." Death opens a portal to the underworld without hesitation. "Get in."	"You heard me, Gatekeeper" Every fiber of my immortal being winced at the mere thought of it, every shred of my soul refusing to entertain the idea of perverting the eternal, divine halls with the notion that the lord could be wrong! "I need to get to Hell, Gatekeeper, I must find a witness" I cannot help myself but to erupt into a storm of thunder like laughter, the frustrated soul of a human man scowling in disbelief and annoyance below me. "Forgive me Human I mean no disrespect, I laughed only at your naïve assertion" I asserted, it is unfitting a tool of the lord to be rude. "I'm a lawyer and I made it to heaven, that should go at least some way to proving the legitimacy of my case" the man jested, the same conflict deescalation he has used time and time again in his mortal life, each time avoiding the pits of Hell, this time used to gain entry to that darkest of places. "Tell me: What case would that be again?" I commanded. "The lord must be responsible for the sins of at least some of the sinners-" he stopped halfway, seeing the disbelief command my brow to my beard, a pity I did not need or ask for. "I can see you have already made up your mind, Gatekeeper, but I beg you, hear me out" he presumes to know my mind, insolent, however I shall forgive him and stow my feelings until the human has spoken his part. "Continue!" I boom. "Follow the Logic here Gatekeeper, the Lord created every aspect of every mortal?" "Correct" "And he created every aspect of the world in which they existed as mortals" "Correct!" "And he is omnipotent, so he knew everything that would transpire in his creation and could make any change he deemed fit" "This had better have a point Human, there is literally armies seeking an audience to go the other way" I stated firmly "Gatekeeper I once met a child who stole food from the market to survive, whose parents abandoned as a mere two year old due to her deformity, I had taken her food and blankets when I found her and she died in my arms sick and starved, she isn't here in heaven." I look deeply into his soul and I find no deceit. "Few people make it here, Human" I struggle to answer. "Gatekeeper, the Lord clearly has made some people who at the moment of their birth were already disqualified from heaven in the eyes of the Lord" "Who might that be, Human?" I genuinely inquire. "Every sinner, Gatekeeper. The Lord already knew what situations each mortal child will face and how they would react, yet did nothing to help them, stop them or inform them directly of the test, it is my understanding that this needlessly dooms most mortals to damnation." "Human, mortality requires free will, else no distinction between the souls in hell and the souls in heaven can be made, if the Lord simply told everyone how to earn heaven in mortality then every single one would simply follow the instruction and live eternally in a paradise unearned. "Well Gatekeeper, that's the thing, I need a witness cast into Hell itself that has met the Lord and chose to disobey, one of a few of the lords former servants, The devil himself." I recoiled at the mention of that fowl title, the man now was staring expectantly, patiently awaiting his answer. I had heard his plea, a most unique stance for one already in heaven. As I sat at my station simultaneously an eternity and an instant and ponder this dilemma I fall pray to both my loyalty to the Lord and my interest in the Humans proposition. As I opened the gate, for the first time I feel a newfound empathy for its inhabitants. That, My lord is the first reason I sentence you to Hell.
	[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.	Death, the gatekeeper of hell, looked down upon the man standing before him. "Regardless of your reasoning, one cannot simply choose to change the realm in which they have been placed at the time of their judgement. However, I am in need of some amusement. Why do you want to enter the depths of hell when you've been fairly chosen to live in heaven?" "My ex is up there, man." Death opens a portal to the underworld without hesitation. "Get in."	What value does a human life have? Who is the judge? Many humans believe God is the judge. But I am the true judge. I am the judge of redemption. I judge if fire and brimstone have changed one's soul. Day after day I am flooded with pleas from evil souls to leave hell. None of them are learning. They're just sad their actions have consequences. And then this happened. An application free of any char, scribble marks, or imperfections, landed at my desk. This soul was requesting a transfer from heaven into hell. She was requesting to transfer from eternal reward to eternal punishment. It has been a long time since I have reviewed a transfer request from heaven to hell. It is long and arduous, under God's orders. It is meant to keep good souls in heaven, and bad ones in hell. She arrived early and waited patiently. We entered into the interview room and sat down on opposite sides of the table. I opened her application and began the interview. "Good day, Ms. Newton." I said sweetly. "Good day to you as well, Mr..." she said. "Tartarus. Lovely to meet you." I said with a smile. "Tell me about yourself." I continued. "Well, Mr. Tartarus, I was a New Yorker, born and raised, married at twenty-two-" "That's well and all, but I'd like to know more about why you're interested in moving from heaven to hell." I said, cutting her off. "It's going to sound quite insane." "I've been here for a while. Shoot." "Have you been to heaven, Mr. Tartarus?" "Not for quite some time." "Well, I can't say it's a bad place. But there is something missing." "Which is?" "I didn't have the easiest life. The details can be saved for another time. Suffice it to say, karma did not reward me. But I maintained my faith and my good deeds. I held out because I knew there was someone who needed me to, in some way." "And heaven has not been the paradise you expected?" "The thing is, I didn't do good things to be rewarded. No one needs help in heaven. It's a land of indulgence and praise. I feel trapped - everyone else has accepted this effortless paradise. I can't do that. This has never been what I wanted." "Well, I'll tell you, hell is not a place where you can help people." "Have you been to hell?" "More recently than heaven, yes." "And why is it not a place where I can help people?" "You'll be too distracted by your burning feet. And the shrieks." "That doesn't sound like a very rehabilitating environment." "I didn't make the rules. I just decide where people go." "So then, Mr. Tartarus, could you decide to let me into hell?" "You know, Ms. Newton, it's been quite a long time since I've encountered anyone like you." "I can't believe that. I've met plenty of selfless people, there must be other people asking for the same thing." "You would think so, but heaven usually manages to charm people into staying." "I can't take it anymore." "Well, Ms. Newton, I will not be accepting your application for transfer to hell." "Why not?" "You wanna be a savior? Find someone to take you back to Earth. Satan's not in the business of rehabilitation." She quickly stormed out. There goes a good one.
	[WP] You learn for a fact that you are going to die on a Tuesday. You just have no idea which Tuesday in your life it will be.	The mornings are always the worst. Other than the mornings, this prophecy has been the best thing that's ever happened to me. This weekend I went skydiving without a parachute just for the fun of it. I just floundered in air until I hit several (yes, several) hot air balloons in a row, slowing my fall until I miraculously fell into 90 feet of the softest fucking canopy ever. I didn't even have a bruise! What are the chances? 100%. You see, I can do whatever the fuck I want to, as long as it's not a Tuesday, and my life is guaranteed. Mind you, that doesn't mean that anything else is going to stay nice; my girlfriend dumped after a particularly interesting Thursday where I experimented with Arson, and I almost lost my leg fighting a Tiger on a Saturday a couple years back. As the weekend draws to a close, I always get more nervous; I go straight home from work every Monday. And lock myself in until it's Wednesday. Monday's are almost scarier than Tuesdays, since getting stabbed on the street and lasting just after midnight seems more possible the older I get. But as I said, Tuesday mornings are the worst. The whole day is stretched in front of me, those 24 hours inviting the horrors of the world onto my frail body. Needless to say, I have invested quite a bit into home security; I intend to live for at least a 1000 more Tuesdays. Over the years, I have gotten a bit complacent. Statistically, I am more likely to die of some illness than a random murder or freak accident, and I'd probably know I would die weeks before the Tuesday came. These days, Tuesdays just involved me sitting in front of my PC playing video games and eating food I had sampled the day before (Be prepared!). Once the afternoon rolls around, I'm usually pretty relaxed. On this particular Tuesday, I was more than a little bored when 4 o'clock rolled around. I had a played more Civilization V than any human ought to, and I had run out of things to do. After contemplating this dilemma for a while, I heard the doorbell ring. This was quite unusual; my house was quite out of the way, and most of my friends have died trying to replicate the ridiculously dangerous stunts that I engage in most weekends. I tentatively looked through the peephole, only to see no one there. However, right in front of my door step lay a taco. Now friends, this was no ordinary taco; it looked like God's gift to Hispanic cuisine that had made a wrong turn and ended up in Connecticut. The tomatoes glistened. The sauce shone like a beacon. The meat looked like a slice of Jesus himself, with the cheese his crown. I stared at it for a good 10 minutes. I paced. I stared some more. I wanted that taco. No, I needed that taco. That taco was the only thing separating my life from the bliss that it could be. Against my better judgment I slid my three deadbolts free, opened the door an inch, stuck my finger out to reel the taco in...... And suddenly everything went black. I awoke to see a figure clad in white, with translucent skin and a scythe taller than I was. He was looking at me, amusement in his gaze. "Am ... Am I dead?" I trembled as I said the words. He merely smiled at me and said: "Taco Tuesday. Always gets 'em."	Terry stepped out from behind the barricade. "Holy crap! You're so brave out there!" One by one the soldiers of the 133rd squadron came out from under cover. The city was ruined, but for now everything was still. "How do you have the courage to do that?" asked Terry breathily. "We're all sitting back under cover, and you just charge the machine gun nest and blow it to smithereens!" "You could say my life prepared me for this," I replied. The truth was, of course, that on Fridays I'm immortal. "Let's celebrate," I laughed. "We're all alive. I didn't think I'd make it past 20, to be honest." "Three cheers to Sergeant!" cheered Terry. Nobody knew about my little revelation, the time God visited me and told me I would die on a Tuesday. Luckily, I was far enough in command that I had some control over when I had to be on the front lines. "I heard they're promoting him to general!" squeaked the high voice of Rodger "Papa Mouse" Cunningham. "Sarge! Sarge! Sarge!" "You're not gonna start a chant, Mouse," retorted One-Eye Red. "Just like the last three times you tried." "Let's go off to the trench," I joked. "Dinner's on me." The squadron laughed, just like they did the last few times. And as they all sat down in the trench to eat, I knew that I had the happiest squadron in the World War. But that happiness faded when I saw it. "Bomb!" shouted Terry. "Take cover!" But there would be no more cover in the trench. Terry wouldn't survive. Neither would Mouse or Red. But I would. Thank God it's Friday.
	[WP] Aliens discover earth and are horrified to learn that the entire planet is all oxygen junkies, we have become so addicted and dependent mere minutes without oxygen would kill us!	"What do you mean that they're all oxygen junkies." Questioned the captain as his voice bellowed across the bridge of his ship "It's just as I reported captain." Answered the scientist. "Every single being on that planet is an oxygen junkie. According to my analysis, their addiction has been become so extreme, they can't possibly live without it for more than five to ten Rels, sir." The entire bridge now stared at what their scientist had just said, their eyes moved between the captain and scientist. The captain simply sighed. Oxygen addiction was a serious problem between the systems, but to discover an entire planet addicted to said problem...He couldn't even....Was there anything that he could do? "Ensign Qwark, turn this ship around, and wipe our flight recorder." "Sir?" Questioned the ensign. "There's nothing we can do for them now." He sighed, he was going to leave them to their own fates now.	"We need to start a rehabilitation program." Jule bussled around grabbing papers and pens. "Don't be silly. The Glorfnob Corp doesn't extend to Earth. All we need to do is check and see if they are intelligent enough to communicate with us yet." Jule turns back, exhausted but clearly excited."Ah, but what better way to communicate then by helping the humans be free of their oxygen poison?" Biffdor stares blankly at Jule, weighing the risks and rewards. "I'll tell you what- we can bring 1 human up to our spacecraft to test. We would need their eldest member of course, as strength increases with time." "Great plan! I see a human ripe for the taking. He is so rich that they have given him a throne with wheels so he doesn't need to walk, and they respect him so highly they give him full tanks of their precious oxygen drug!" Immediately after exposing the old man to the high stress environment, the test subject died. The Glorfnob Corp never again explored Earth, and after its eventual shut-down, Earth was looted of its resources, leaving mankind in a struggle for survival. Humans live to 2490 before going extinct.
	[WP] Aliens discover earth and are horrified to learn that the entire planet is all oxygen junkies, we have become so addicted and dependent mere minutes without oxygen would kill us!	“It seems the life forms of this terra are dependent on Oxygen in its gas form sir.” An audible female voice rang from what seemed to be the walls of the well litten and warm cabin. “You mean to tell me their planet is so lush they don’t have open access to their sun?” The dark green yet stern man bellowed. “No sir, the exact opposite actually, very little of their environment is shaded, they’re addicted to these trace amounts of oxygen, so much so their biology has evolved around using oxygen as their primary energy source.” Quickly the green man snapped “Like plants?” “Actually Captain, the plants on this terra work as all evolved species with, what they call, photosynthesis as their primary energy source. The majority of all sentient beings on this planet use our secondary system of respiration as their primary source.” “Are you telling me these beings are not reliant on a sun or other ultraviolet source for energy?” The Captain asked puzzled and stammering. “Yes sir, they are quite capable of surviving within an environment with a lack of ultraviolet for extended periods of time.” A short pause overtook the cabin “for how long could they stand these conditions?” “It seems with the right supplements, oxygen rich atmosphere and flesh of small mammals or plant fibers…. Indefinitely sir.” ‘INDEFINITELY?!” The Captain screeched. “Yes sir.” A long silence fell over the ship floating in an exposed orbit. “Kara, give me a full report over the intelligence and susceptibility of this species.” While the captains orders rang out, simultaneously several monitors and alarms buzzed and sounded. Without pause Kara replied “anti-missile systems engaged” “Kara, forget the reports. That told us all we need to know” he laughed, “yes, it seems these are the beings we’ve been looking for. Alert all ships and headquarters we’ve found the perfect slave race to finish our army.”	"We need to start a rehabilitation program." Jule bussled around grabbing papers and pens. "Don't be silly. The Glorfnob Corp doesn't extend to Earth. All we need to do is check and see if they are intelligent enough to communicate with us yet." Jule turns back, exhausted but clearly excited."Ah, but what better way to communicate then by helping the humans be free of their oxygen poison?" Biffdor stares blankly at Jule, weighing the risks and rewards. "I'll tell you what- we can bring 1 human up to our spacecraft to test. We would need their eldest member of course, as strength increases with time." "Great plan! I see a human ripe for the taking. He is so rich that they have given him a throne with wheels so he doesn't need to walk, and they respect him so highly they give him full tanks of their precious oxygen drug!" Immediately after exposing the old man to the high stress environment, the test subject died. The Glorfnob Corp never again explored Earth, and after its eventual shut-down, Earth was looted of its resources, leaving mankind in a struggle for survival. Humans live to 2490 before going extinct.
	[WP] Aliens discover earth and are horrified to learn that the entire planet is all oxygen junkies, we have become so addicted and dependent mere minutes without oxygen would kill us!	“It seems the life forms of this terra are dependent on Oxygen in its gas form sir.” An audible female voice rang from what seemed to be the walls of the well litten and warm cabin. “You mean to tell me their planet is so lush they don’t have open access to their sun?” The dark green yet stern man bellowed. “No sir, the exact opposite actually, very little of their environment is shaded, they’re addicted to these trace amounts of oxygen, so much so their biology has evolved around using oxygen as their primary energy source.” Quickly the green man snapped “Like plants?” “Actually Captain, the plants on this terra work as all evolved species with, what they call, photosynthesis as their primary energy source. The majority of all sentient beings on this planet use our secondary system of respiration as their primary source.” “Are you telling me these beings are not reliant on a sun or other ultraviolet source for energy?” The Captain asked puzzled and stammering. “Yes sir, they are quite capable of surviving within an environment with a lack of ultraviolet for extended periods of time.” A short pause overtook the cabin “for how long could they stand these conditions?” “It seems with the right supplements, oxygen rich atmosphere and flesh of small mammals or plant fibers…. Indefinitely sir.” ‘INDEFINITELY?!” The Captain screeched. “Yes sir.” A long silence fell over the ship floating in an exposed orbit. “Kara, give me a full report over the intelligence and susceptibility of this species.” While the captains orders rang out, simultaneously several monitors and alarms buzzed and sounded. Without pause Kara replied “anti-missile systems engaged” “Kara, forget the reports. That told us all we need to know” he laughed, “yes, it seems these are the beings we’ve been looking for. Alert all ships and headquarters we’ve found the perfect slave race to finish our army.”	Now, this is surprising, I didn't know anything about it. There must be a good explanation for it, but I wonder what it is..- Myre thought with interest, keeping up her pace on the treadmill. The screens at her gym were all synced to the same Solar System News channel that morning. The discovery had been originally announced by the General Communication Agents just earlier that day, but everybody was already spreading it on neural media. "Disgusting Humans! They had millions of years to evolve, adapt and get in touch with literally ANYBODY within their galaxy, and they are still struggling with breathing?? We shouldn't even spend resources and time to look into them anymore!", someone was shouting on the holographic screens. Who this person was exactly, Myre had no idea, but judging by his clothes and the radiant color of his skin it must have been some politician, she deduced. She finished her 5 minutes workout and was ready to go home when Trex Miller, her boss, walked through the door, holding it for her for a few seconds. "Good morning Myre, are you done already?", said Trex. "Good morning boss. Yeah I am just about to go home, I came earlier today", said Myre, trying to cut the conversation short. "Fair enough. Oh hey, did you hear about the humans??", said Trex in a tone that felt childish and excited at the same time. "Yeah, it's all over the place. I think it's pretty sad honestly, but I really don't understand all the fuss about it", said Myre looking at Trex, while walking out of the door. "Are you kidding? There are thousands of people involved in the study of Humans and human life on Earth. With all the information we gathered so far about human evolution, it was pretty much going to become a compulsory subject in middle school, my neighbor teacher was telling me earlier. But now that their nasty addiction has made the news, nobody wants to even mention them anymore. It is pretty bad", said Trex. "Well, I guess it will be less study for our kids then. I really have to go now, I will see you later at the office, OK?", said Myre, hoping to end it there. "I guess that's a good point as well! Haha. Will see you later", concluded Trex with his bossy voice. Myre walked all the way home trying to think about the meetings and tasks for that day, but for some reason the news about the humans was still floating in her mind. This is all so strange. Something is not quite right. Either Alan has lied to me, or the news are not telling all the truth- Myre thought. Alan was her pen pal, and he had been for years. They actually met once at a culinary workshop some 200 years before, and although they never felt the need to meed again, they kept in touch ever since. Every month they would send each other a long message, recalling all the meaningful and recent events of their respective lives, often asking opinions on personal matters. They knew each other very well, and their reciprocal trust was something that Myre always appreciated about their unusual relationship. But today something had changed, and Myre felt the need for an explanation. She knew Alan's secret. She had known it ever since their first meeting, when at the workshop Alan cut himself while learning some chopping techniques. Blood started to flow out of his ripped skin, but he proceeded to cover it up straight away. Only Myre, his workshop partner at the time, had seen the scene. "Sshh! Please don't tell anybody, would you? It is just a skin problem of mine, but I can take care of it", said Alan in a hurry. Myre didn't really think much of it at the time, although she thought it was weird. She wasn't quite the talkative kind back then, and didn't want to ask personal questions to a person she had just met. It would have been just rude. But now, the thought could not leave her mind. It is ridiculous how I never really thought about that accident ever again. We stopped bleeding 1000 years ago. How could Alan bleed? Only humans are known to be the last species to bleed. Does it mean that... ?? Myre had almost reached her unit when she noticed someone standing right in front of her door. Is that person looking at me right now? And is he wearing clothes?- she thought, astonished. People stopped wearing clothes ages ago! How could it be...? A black jacket and a pair of jeans were covering his whole body, but for some reason she still recognized him immediately. It was Alan.
	[WP] Aliens discover earth and are horrified to learn that the entire planet is all oxygen junkies, we have become so addicted and dependent mere minutes without oxygen would kill us!	“It seems the life forms of this terra are dependent on Oxygen in its gas form sir.” An audible female voice rang from what seemed to be the walls of the well litten and warm cabin. “You mean to tell me their planet is so lush they don’t have open access to their sun?” The dark green yet stern man bellowed. “No sir, the exact opposite actually, very little of their environment is shaded, they’re addicted to these trace amounts of oxygen, so much so their biology has evolved around using oxygen as their primary energy source.” Quickly the green man snapped “Like plants?” “Actually Captain, the plants on this terra work as all evolved species with, what they call, photosynthesis as their primary energy source. The majority of all sentient beings on this planet use our secondary system of respiration as their primary source.” “Are you telling me these beings are not reliant on a sun or other ultraviolet source for energy?” The Captain asked puzzled and stammering. “Yes sir, they are quite capable of surviving within an environment with a lack of ultraviolet for extended periods of time.” A short pause overtook the cabin “for how long could they stand these conditions?” “It seems with the right supplements, oxygen rich atmosphere and flesh of small mammals or plant fibers…. Indefinitely sir.” ‘INDEFINITELY?!” The Captain screeched. “Yes sir.” A long silence fell over the ship floating in an exposed orbit. “Kara, give me a full report over the intelligence and susceptibility of this species.” While the captains orders rang out, simultaneously several monitors and alarms buzzed and sounded. Without pause Kara replied “anti-missile systems engaged” “Kara, forget the reports. That told us all we need to know” he laughed, “yes, it seems these are the beings we’ve been looking for. Alert all ships and headquarters we’ve found the perfect slave race to finish our army.”	"What do you mean that they're all oxygen junkies." Questioned the captain as his voice bellowed across the bridge of his ship "It's just as I reported captain." Answered the scientist. "Every single being on that planet is an oxygen junkie. According to my analysis, their addiction has been become so extreme, they can't possibly live without it for more than five to ten Rels, sir." The entire bridge now stared at what their scientist had just said, their eyes moved between the captain and scientist. The captain simply sighed. Oxygen addiction was a serious problem between the systems, but to discover an entire planet addicted to said problem...He couldn't even....Was there anything that he could do? "Ensign Qwark, turn this ship around, and wipe our flight recorder." "Sir?" Questioned the ensign. "There's nothing we can do for them now." He sighed, he was going to leave them to their own fates now.
	[WP] Aliens make contact with Humans. They're far more advanced than us technologically, but are enamoured by our Arts. They've discovered things like Music & Painting for the first time.	Sarah looked over her class and smiled. A sea of eyes stared attentively back, ready to learn. Teaching the Grah'ns was such a delight compared to human children, they actually enjoyed it. "Right, class!" She clapped her hands together. "Pull out your instruments!" A scrape and shuffle as thirty hands reached into their desks to reveal thirty recorders. Wait. Twenty- nine recorders. Sarah sighed and walked over to the troublesome child. "Now, Jak'orth, where is your recorder?" Her question was rewarded with a scowl and a glare at the desk as he slowly reached into his desk and pulled out his instrument. "This is stupid." He muttered. "I'm sorry, Jak'orth? I couldn't quite hear that?" Sarah asked politely. This happened every year, and she found it best to get it over with quickly. He met her eyes, and harrumphed as only a child can. "I said...this is stupid. Instruments are stupid. This..." he waved his recorder around. " is only a practical example of resonance in an air column. It does nothing." "Nothing, eh?" Sarah raised an eyebrow and pulled out her own recorder, a beautifully carved example - A gift from a former student. She put it to her lips and started to play a simple folk tune she had learnt when she was their age. At the second bar, she heard a sob. At the fourth, a whispered "wow". As Sarah finished the last bar, she listened. A pin could have dropped and echoed in the room. She looked down and saw Jak'orth wiping away tears from his eyes. "Was that nothing, Jak'orth?" She asked gently. "sniff...no, miss." "Good. And one day," she patted him on the shoulder, "you will play as well as that." He grinned at the thought. Sarah returned to the front of the room and raised her voice. "But first, class, we will start with something easier. Place your thumb against the back hole, one finger on the first, and blow the rhythm written on the board." As the strains of "Busy Bee" were strangled from the recorders, she suppressed a wince. They were as bad as...as... as a classroom of small children learning the recorder. But they would improve, she thought. They had a desire to learn like no other race, and a true appreciation for the new invention of "music".	Unusually Gravy Dexter's Personal diary Week 1 "The Exposure" Monday: I was walking around school listening to all the alarms going off today and for what? I'm the type of guy who likes when things like this happen. I mean can they really think a civilization landing without coming in with missiles is actually a threat to us? Damn government... Well I guess I don't have anymore to rant about. I have to get some shut eye and be alert for tomorrow. See what these "new" people are all about. Tuesday: Can you believe that they're sayin on the news we can actually meet these new people? They've been already cleared on top level 5 global security and were perceived as a no threat to us! Holy shit! They must have some really good persuasion skills or must be of another type of intelligence far advanced than ours. I'm going to make some alien friends so we can go over algorithms and sophisticated geometry as we try to define the shape of the universe! Don't cha think they can do all that? They've gotten interstellar travel down so far... Hmm hopefully we have a meet and greet at my school. Today was shit-full. Wednesday: Dammit, still no meet and greet. I guess I shouldn't be so determined to meet these people as my wit would probably find me goin out my self to search for these fuckers. I'm going to tell my teacher we need to take a trip down to the museum where I hear some of these beings are going to be at during the next couple of days answering questions and such. But holy fuck, the news showed thousands of the ships comin in from the North Pole so I could imagine they've come to build settlements and adjust in with us. No idea but will have answers soon. Thursday: I'm so glad I found this fucking thing! This entry is one for my kids to ponder back on. I can't believe it I'm shaking right now trying to calm my nerves. I can't write much because my friend is waiting on me but I did it! I finally met one of our brothers in life! They are real people too and although they have different mental capabilities and structure, they can still think and problem solve which is why they didn't attack us at all! Fucking amazing. Look PX3 is out there right now. Gonna head back to school to do some homework and he said somethin about bringing headphones. Friday: I knew I shouldn't have done that. I never expected my generosity to become this annoying for me. PX is sittin on the other side of my room with those head buds full fucking blast. I didn't realize it was my last pair but now I'm just annoyed staring at the ceiling watching my friend draw something in a notebook for what already seems like 2 hours. Hmm I guess I'll go find out what he's writing... Or drawing, whatever these fuckers do. Brb. I don't know whether I should be laughing or distraught but I told PX to wait for me on the porch then we can go walk downtown or something but what the hell I can't believe what he was drawing! It was about 35 pages of the same gotdamn drawing.. And I know the only drawing he knows was the sketch tutorial we had in art class the other day.. What the fuck.. These sketches or whatever are drawings of my older sister! Fucking naked! I'm pretty disgusted but gonna keep my cool on the walk we have. Plenty of things to explain about the way things work here.
	[WP]: "But the most curious thing is that humans don't have a mating season. They just act really weird all year round."	The room broke out in whispers as the Professor showed his class a video of human life. It contained moments captured from a whole year on the planet. Humans walking hand in hand. Humans hugging, kissing, mating. Simply spending time together, for no good apparent reason. On the side of the screen were more monitors, showing flashes of different human brains at all times. In most of them, certain sections kept lighting up. Sections proven to be connected to sexual attraction. "So, that's what they think about? All the time?" one student asked, frowning as she took meticulous notes. "That's right," the Professor said. "And what does that tell us about them? Remember, this will be in the exam..." "That is the reason why their version of Earth is floundering in the multiverse," a young man sitting in the front row answered. "And why ours is vastly superior - because we only mate once a year. I mean, how can you accomplish anything if you have to dedicate a significant amount of brain power to sex and this thing they call romance? It makes no sense. Ruled by emotions and hormones, no wonder their planet is such a mess." There was an outbreak of sniggering and applause. "Well done, Jamie," Professor Hudson said. "Yes, indeed, on Alternate Earth, they don't even know they're merely one of several versions of their world. They can't travel between dimensions on their own. Their scientific progress has only recently gained some momentum. If we want to study them, we have to go get them." He turned to write their homework on the board: a philosophical essay, reflecting on the consequences of year-round mating on a society. "Now, who can tell me which famous Alternate Earth couple will be used as an example in the test? Anyone? I mentioned it last week..." he asked, glancing around the class. "Hannah and Alan Burns. A young couple brought here from Alternate Earth thirty years ago to study what they call 'love'," Jamie answered promptly again. Professor Hudson turned his back to the class to write more questions on the board. No-one noticed his hand shaking as he asked another question. "Yes. And what happened, in the end?" The students glanced at one another, some rolling their eyes. What was with the Professor today, asking stupid questions about a case no-one cared about anymore? It wasn't relevant in any way. He was an odd guy, sometimes. "Well, she was killed," another student, Kelly Masters, said impatiently. "To see the effect of her death on her partner. Alan Burns later escaped while we were studying him, and presumably died in the desert. A failed experiment, most agreed." Professor Hudson packed his bag as he answered her. "So some would argue. Study the case and remember what we discussed, class. You're dismissed." He blinked the tears from his eyes as the class poured out the doors, avoiding those who hastened forward to ask questions about the test. He had to get out of here before he lost it. Dead. Even the children of the ones who did this to him still thought he was dead. They didn't even know what he looked like. They didn't recognise him, standing right there in front of them, pretending to be their teacher. And didn't show an ounce more remorse than their parents did. He knew everything about them after twenty years of circling the edges of their society, and ten more infiltrating it. How they functioned. What made them tick. What could kill them. They'd all forgotten about Hannah. Forgotten the sound of her screams as they tortured her, to see him fight futilely to reach her. The way her once brilliant green eyes dimmed to a fixed, glassy stare as she died - while they made notes on his reactions. But he hadn't. And he'd sure as hell make them remember, before it was over. ------ Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.	"That's ridiculous. Are you saying that they are ready to reproduce at any moment?" "Yes, assuming the couple in question are reproductively healthy and of age." "Oh right. Couple. I always forget that human mating is between only two individuals...that was weird enough. BUt now you're telling me that their reproductive drive is never off." "That's right. I was shocked to learn it, too. Though there must've been something wrong with the translation." "How do they get anything done, ever?" "Well, that part is even more interesting, in my opinion. Believe it or not, they (usually) have full control over their reproductive urges. As in, if one sees another that seems reproductively fit, the former can choose not to engage in courting." "Huh. But what if the the latter desires mating?" "Generally speaking, there must be consensus between the two individuals for the mating to occur. Granted, forced mating is not uncommon." "I should imagine so! It must be terribly difficult to suppress that drive. Heaven knows I could not, were I in heat." "That's the thing, they're never really in heat - or perhaps, they always are. It is a strange concept to wrap my mind around, to be sure." "And what happens, if a forced mating occurs?" "Legal prosecution for the rapist - that is their word for someone who forces themselves upon an unwilling party." "What a strange, alien concept - punishment for acting upon irresistible, biological urges!" "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? For us, it is literally impossible to resist, when we are in full-bloom mating season. For them, they can actually choose, regardless of how strong their desire to initiate a coupling. And so forceful mating is actually a violation of their will - it is a crime." "Ah, I suppose that makes sense. I must say, this aspect of their biology may have some advantages. After all, they won't lose entire weeks to a hazy, exhausting mating season that they barely remember afterward." "True. But some of our xeno-sociologists believe that due to the constitutive presence of a reproductive drive and instances of forced mating and other similarly unwanted behavior, there is a great taboo on discussing such topics in their society. Especially with children." "Children?" "Their young, their progeny; generally speaking, they are severely limited from discussions and/or media of a sexual nature, until they are nearly adults." "That is preposterous. No doubt their progeny come into contact with matters of this nature on their own, and form their own, dangerous ideas - that they cannot even discuss with the adult beings in their society!" "The level of restriction differs from one family unit to the next, one society to the next - but yes, in general I agree." "Ah, I've just received a memo - Doctors Majewski and Cohen are awaiting us in the conference room. We had a meeting scheduled with them today." "Right, the human biochemists. Shall we greet them?" "Yes, let us go. Though, hm..." "Something on your mind?" "One is a female and one is a male." "Yes." "I wonder if they are attracted to each other and are just desperately suppressing the desire to copulate every time they see one another." "I recommend you do not ask them. As I've mentioned, such topics are rather taboo..." "But they are scientists! Biologists!" "Yes, but it still may cause them embarrassment." "Ah, another human emotion I fear I still have no understanding of." "Neither do I. Enough, let's not keep them waiting." "Perhaps they have not even noticed our delay; after all, they may be busy with each other." _______________ Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!
	[WP] There is no singular Grim Reaper. When someone dies, there are dozens of people they talk to: one tells them what happened to them, one explains the afterlife, one judges them, etc. You are the second person they speak with.	"Next!", I shouted right as I rang the small bell on my desk. The plain white door across the room creaked open. The next heartbeat, a young man came bursting, tripping into my office. He awkwardly recomposed himself and started walking towards my desk, fiddling his thumbs in his hands. I chuckled and called, "Close the door, son." The teenager stopped a moment, scrambled back to the door then started again towards my desk. His bearing and expression suggested that he was lost. I smiled and gestured at his untied shoelace. "That's what got you killed after all. Take a seat." "Uh", the young man breathed. "I just talked to the Grim Reaper-" "The first Reaper. We are many." I interjected. "Right.. he told me I was dead. That can't be true, can it?" The kid sounded like he was heavily disappointed by the afterlife, or perhaps his living life. "You are, son." I put up his file for him to see. The file was stamped with his date and time of death. Today, three hours ago. "You went out quite young, Robert." He dipped his head as if trying to wrap his head around the idea. Finally he shook his head and spoke, "Soo, there are many Reapers?" "Yes", I said simply. "There are about three dozens of us, and I'm just the second!" "What do you do?" "The first Reaper welcomes your soul into the afterlife. Other Reapers judge you for your sins, others show you your life and its possible outcomes, and the rest just record your files." Robert nodded. A slow, wavy movement of his head. "And you? What do you do?" He was clearly nervous and all his words were coming off of him slowly. I sighed. "George isn't doing his job again, it seems. The first Reaper is supposed to tell you everything, the system, our roles, everything." Robert bit the inside of his lip and looked around the empty office. Again he asked, "What do you do?" I leaned back on my office chair and put my hands behind my head, interlocking them. "I make sure every soul stays, comfortable." He seemed to fall into ease with my statement. I sat up straight again and leaned my arms on the table, keeping my fingers interlocked. "Rob, what do you remember about your life?" I always found amusement in watching the souls squirm in their seats as they try to remember their lives. "Everything, actually.", he said sadly. "My parents, my little sister, school. I even remember how I died..", his voice trailed off and he swung his right foot outward, making the untied shoelaces dance and whip around. I chuckled, then suddenly stopped. Something wasn't right. "Son, you say you remember.. everything?" "Yeah, why?" "That can't be right", I muttered. Usually, souls only remember their names after they've died. Perhaps this kid's memories weren't fading as quick. "Do you know your birthdate, Robert?" "March 14, 1997", he said without pause. I checked his file, the dates matched. "Right." I stood and stretched. "Wh-where are you going?" Robert stood as well, and his head followed me as I walked toward the door. When I reached the door, I turned back toward the young man. Immediately I noticed his shoelaces tying themselves together. "Stay here. I'm going to do my job." ______ Edit: typo	You’ll need to head up and out into the stars, it’s the only way. The answer to your question lies deep within that blackened womb. I know this task seems daunting…the universe is vast. So very vast. Be fearless, have strength, continue the search despite whatever obstacles you may face. You and you alone are the only one who can embark on this journey because you are the only one who has asked the question. No matter what advice you may hear, who you may encounter, or what you may see always—and I do mean always—trust yourself. Trust that you know the way. And if you doubt this, trust that you will find a way. The universe is filled with wonders and mysteries and fiery bright beautiful displays of energy and light, and you will get lonely. Do not falter. This journey will take you through the deepest, darkest, densest parts of the universe. The lights will slowly flicker and fade until they become nonexistent and it may be hard to find your way out of the shadows. Do not give up. It may seem as if the darkness goes on forever, but keep moving forward, don’t stop, and you will find your way to the lights. Do this every time, keep traveling through the darkness and the doubt and you will always find your way to the lights. Once out of the darkness, you will reach the phase in your trek where everything seems the same. Over and over again the same stars, the same constellations, the same planets will flash past you and you will begin to wonder if you are losing your mind. You are not. This is just another part of the journey. A test of will and fortitude. You can prevent the inevitable ennui by remembering this is not unusual and anyone who ventures into the depths of space experiences a lull. Know that the monotony will eventually end. After a time, you will have finally made it to the farthest, fraying edges of the universe. Here you will find the Stellar Stream, a great band of fiery giants twirling in an everlasting dance around the edges of space and time. No one knows what lies behind these flaming colossi, few have speculated, and even fewer have gone to explore for themselves. None have returned. It is here you will find the answer to your question. You will look behind you and see the entirety of existence, all of it, at all times. You will see the beginning and the end. The destruction and the creation. All that expansion. And you will finally understand why it had to be you who ventured out into the stars. You will understand why you held on so tightly to the question you carried with you throughout this journey, through all the blackness and the lights and the infinite isolation. You will finally begin to see why this journey was and is so important, and why we must all be fearless with fortitude. To know yourself is to know the universe. To know the universe is to know yourself. And when you have finally reached the end, you will have discovered, known, and understood life, the universe, everything, and your question will be answered. The light from the Stellar Stream will be intense but you won’t feel the need to look away. You’ll nudge yourself forward and feel exhilaration as you are swallowed up into the Stream, knowing that this is just another journey.
	[WP] There is no singular Grim Reaper. When someone dies, there are dozens of people they talk to: one tells them what happened to them, one explains the afterlife, one judges them, etc. You are the second person they speak with.	God, I hate this job. My mind wandered as I got a rare moment of peace in my small, drab office. The decor was non-existent, but when you’re the second stage of death, you don’t get much in the way of sponsorship deals or mainstream popularity, hell, even the guy with a dog face weighing peoples hearts on a My First Science Lab © set of scales gets a better amount of publicity than you. No, I just get this little office while big ol’ Grim goes out with his fancy gardening equipment and becomes the face of death itself. No love for the guy doing all the paperwork, stuck in his office that doesn’t even have one of those neat little desk toys with the balls on string- bzzt! - Out of nowhere, a loud mechanical buzzing sounds and I jump to attention, my best Pan Am smile plastered across my face. “Welcome to the Afterlife! I hope you had a pleasant journey with Charon!” Chatting with the most fake enthusiasm I could muster, I indicated a chair and watched as the latest deceased sat down in front of me. An old bloke, dressed in a hospital gown and sporting white hair and the classic thick black framed glasses, which seemed to do nothing by the way he squinted at everything. “I believe that you would have been brought up to speed on what’s going on?” I inquired, still sporting my inane grin. “WHAT? WASSAT?” The old man screwed up his face in concentration and turned his head towards me, cupping his ear. Oh, fantastic. Another deaf old geezer. Barely suppressing a sigh, I raised my voice. “Hello sir! I am here to help you find your friends and family as you move into the afterlife!” I leaned forward in attempt to make myself clearer. The old man's already impressively contorted face dropped into a frown. “You tryin’ to get me into some sterile old rest home? I told you suits that I’m just fine by myself!” Trying to not make a face reminiscent of the old man's own, I raised my voice again. “Sir! This is not a rest home, you have died, and this is just another step-” “Of course I’m dead you daft bastard! The thin feller already told me about that!” The old man shouted back, interrupting me. I rested my head in my hands, and counted to five. This was going to be another long one. (This was one of my first attempts at writing one of these! Criticism is appreciated :D)	You’ll need to head up and out into the stars, it’s the only way. The answer to your question lies deep within that blackened womb. I know this task seems daunting…the universe is vast. So very vast. Be fearless, have strength, continue the search despite whatever obstacles you may face. You and you alone are the only one who can embark on this journey because you are the only one who has asked the question. No matter what advice you may hear, who you may encounter, or what you may see always—and I do mean always—trust yourself. Trust that you know the way. And if you doubt this, trust that you will find a way. The universe is filled with wonders and mysteries and fiery bright beautiful displays of energy and light, and you will get lonely. Do not falter. This journey will take you through the deepest, darkest, densest parts of the universe. The lights will slowly flicker and fade until they become nonexistent and it may be hard to find your way out of the shadows. Do not give up. It may seem as if the darkness goes on forever, but keep moving forward, don’t stop, and you will find your way to the lights. Do this every time, keep traveling through the darkness and the doubt and you will always find your way to the lights. Once out of the darkness, you will reach the phase in your trek where everything seems the same. Over and over again the same stars, the same constellations, the same planets will flash past you and you will begin to wonder if you are losing your mind. You are not. This is just another part of the journey. A test of will and fortitude. You can prevent the inevitable ennui by remembering this is not unusual and anyone who ventures into the depths of space experiences a lull. Know that the monotony will eventually end. After a time, you will have finally made it to the farthest, fraying edges of the universe. Here you will find the Stellar Stream, a great band of fiery giants twirling in an everlasting dance around the edges of space and time. No one knows what lies behind these flaming colossi, few have speculated, and even fewer have gone to explore for themselves. None have returned. It is here you will find the answer to your question. You will look behind you and see the entirety of existence, all of it, at all times. You will see the beginning and the end. The destruction and the creation. All that expansion. And you will finally understand why it had to be you who ventured out into the stars. You will understand why you held on so tightly to the question you carried with you throughout this journey, through all the blackness and the lights and the infinite isolation. You will finally begin to see why this journey was and is so important, and why we must all be fearless with fortitude. To know yourself is to know the universe. To know the universe is to know yourself. And when you have finally reached the end, you will have discovered, known, and understood life, the universe, everything, and your question will be answered. The light from the Stellar Stream will be intense but you won’t feel the need to look away. You’ll nudge yourself forward and feel exhilaration as you are swallowed up into the Stream, knowing that this is just another journey.
	[WP] There is no singular Grim Reaper. When someone dies, there are dozens of people they talk to: one tells them what happened to them, one explains the afterlife, one judges them, etc. You are the second person they speak with.	"17 people" I say, blandly. Monotonously. The bald and doughy man looks at me, obviously perplexed. "You have positively impacted 17 people in your life. Move ahead in the line, sir. You see the Judge next." His frightened eyes weren't unusual. Most people were horrified to hear about the Judge. It wasn't a big deal, really. He simply decided which level of heaven, or hell, that your soul would take permanent residence. He did this without prejudice, and took his role very seriously. I methodically work through the next few people. There was a 17 guy, a 70 guy, a 125 girl, and a handful of single digiters. Only the girl had a real shot of making it anywhere, the other ones would have been better off had they simply held the door open a few times. Even a smile made a big difference. Coming in next was an old man who seemed to be in his 90s. He still hobbled with the help of his cane, which took an excruciatingly long time to finally arrive in front of me. His number shot from my mouth. "Seven million, four-hundred twenty-three thousand, three-hundred one." Woah. That had to be the highest number I've ever seen. I perked up a bit. The old mans left eyebrow stretched up a slight bit as a mischievous grin formed on his aged face. "Uh, that's how many people you have positively effected while you were alive." The old man said nothing. His legs wobbled below him as he stood in front of me. "Sir, you uh... see the Judge next. Considering your numbers you will most likely be sent to the highest tier." Still, the old man was silent. His eyes held mine as I fumbled for my words. "Sir I have to know. How is it that you were so impactful? What did you do?" The old man stared at me. He then opened his mouth and spoke two words. "I lived."	You’ll need to head up and out into the stars, it’s the only way. The answer to your question lies deep within that blackened womb. I know this task seems daunting…the universe is vast. So very vast. Be fearless, have strength, continue the search despite whatever obstacles you may face. You and you alone are the only one who can embark on this journey because you are the only one who has asked the question. No matter what advice you may hear, who you may encounter, or what you may see always—and I do mean always—trust yourself. Trust that you know the way. And if you doubt this, trust that you will find a way. The universe is filled with wonders and mysteries and fiery bright beautiful displays of energy and light, and you will get lonely. Do not falter. This journey will take you through the deepest, darkest, densest parts of the universe. The lights will slowly flicker and fade until they become nonexistent and it may be hard to find your way out of the shadows. Do not give up. It may seem as if the darkness goes on forever, but keep moving forward, don’t stop, and you will find your way to the lights. Do this every time, keep traveling through the darkness and the doubt and you will always find your way to the lights. Once out of the darkness, you will reach the phase in your trek where everything seems the same. Over and over again the same stars, the same constellations, the same planets will flash past you and you will begin to wonder if you are losing your mind. You are not. This is just another part of the journey. A test of will and fortitude. You can prevent the inevitable ennui by remembering this is not unusual and anyone who ventures into the depths of space experiences a lull. Know that the monotony will eventually end. After a time, you will have finally made it to the farthest, fraying edges of the universe. Here you will find the Stellar Stream, a great band of fiery giants twirling in an everlasting dance around the edges of space and time. No one knows what lies behind these flaming colossi, few have speculated, and even fewer have gone to explore for themselves. None have returned. It is here you will find the answer to your question. You will look behind you and see the entirety of existence, all of it, at all times. You will see the beginning and the end. The destruction and the creation. All that expansion. And you will finally understand why it had to be you who ventured out into the stars. You will understand why you held on so tightly to the question you carried with you throughout this journey, through all the blackness and the lights and the infinite isolation. You will finally begin to see why this journey was and is so important, and why we must all be fearless with fortitude. To know yourself is to know the universe. To know the universe is to know yourself. And when you have finally reached the end, you will have discovered, known, and understood life, the universe, everything, and your question will be answered. The light from the Stellar Stream will be intense but you won’t feel the need to look away. You’ll nudge yourself forward and feel exhilaration as you are swallowed up into the Stream, knowing that this is just another journey.
	[WP] There is no singular Grim Reaper. When someone dies, there are dozens of people they talk to: one tells them what happened to them, one explains the afterlife, one judges them, etc. You are the second person they speak with.	"17 people" I say, blandly. Monotonously. The bald and doughy man looks at me, obviously perplexed. "You have positively impacted 17 people in your life. Move ahead in the line, sir. You see the Judge next." His frightened eyes weren't unusual. Most people were horrified to hear about the Judge. It wasn't a big deal, really. He simply decided which level of heaven, or hell, that your soul would take permanent residence. He did this without prejudice, and took his role very seriously. I methodically work through the next few people. There was a 17 guy, a 70 guy, a 125 girl, and a handful of single digiters. Only the girl had a real shot of making it anywhere, the other ones would have been better off had they simply held the door open a few times. Even a smile made a big difference. Coming in next was an old man who seemed to be in his 90s. He still hobbled with the help of his cane, which took an excruciatingly long time to finally arrive in front of me. His number shot from my mouth. "Seven million, four-hundred twenty-three thousand, three-hundred one." Woah. That had to be the highest number I've ever seen. I perked up a bit. The old mans left eyebrow stretched up a slight bit as a mischievous grin formed on his aged face. "Uh, that's how many people you have positively effected while you were alive." The old man said nothing. His legs wobbled below him as he stood in front of me. "Sir, you uh... see the Judge next. Considering your numbers you will most likely be sent to the highest tier." Still, the old man was silent. His eyes held mine as I fumbled for my words. "Sir I have to know. How is it that you were so impactful? What did you do?" The old man stared at me. He then opened his mouth and spoke two words. "I lived."	God, I hate this job. My mind wandered as I got a rare moment of peace in my small, drab office. The decor was non-existent, but when you’re the second stage of death, you don’t get much in the way of sponsorship deals or mainstream popularity, hell, even the guy with a dog face weighing peoples hearts on a My First Science Lab © set of scales gets a better amount of publicity than you. No, I just get this little office while big ol’ Grim goes out with his fancy gardening equipment and becomes the face of death itself. No love for the guy doing all the paperwork, stuck in his office that doesn’t even have one of those neat little desk toys with the balls on string- bzzt! - Out of nowhere, a loud mechanical buzzing sounds and I jump to attention, my best Pan Am smile plastered across my face. “Welcome to the Afterlife! I hope you had a pleasant journey with Charon!” Chatting with the most fake enthusiasm I could muster, I indicated a chair and watched as the latest deceased sat down in front of me. An old bloke, dressed in a hospital gown and sporting white hair and the classic thick black framed glasses, which seemed to do nothing by the way he squinted at everything. “I believe that you would have been brought up to speed on what’s going on?” I inquired, still sporting my inane grin. “WHAT? WASSAT?” The old man screwed up his face in concentration and turned his head towards me, cupping his ear. Oh, fantastic. Another deaf old geezer. Barely suppressing a sigh, I raised my voice. “Hello sir! I am here to help you find your friends and family as you move into the afterlife!” I leaned forward in attempt to make myself clearer. The old man's already impressively contorted face dropped into a frown. “You tryin’ to get me into some sterile old rest home? I told you suits that I’m just fine by myself!” Trying to not make a face reminiscent of the old man's own, I raised my voice again. “Sir! This is not a rest home, you have died, and this is just another step-” “Of course I’m dead you daft bastard! The thin feller already told me about that!” The old man shouted back, interrupting me. I rested my head in my hands, and counted to five. This was going to be another long one. (This was one of my first attempts at writing one of these! Criticism is appreciated :D)
	[WP] You die halfway through a binge watching session on Netflix. You cannot rest until you finish the show	“Honey do you want to watch one more?” “I don’t know, I’m getting tired of the show. How about we just go to sleep?” “ok sure” God damn it, another failure. Andrew thought, he was already way beyond being exasperated. He could hardly believe that it had been three years already. Three years since he choked on a stupid popcorn while binge watching netflix. It had taken him some time to realize that he was not among the living anymore, well he was but not in the way one would expect. As he began understanding what was going on he fell in a state of uncontrollable anxiety. He didn’t understand what was going on as well as how the hell he was supposed to react to his newfound surroundings. He could see his own body on the couch, its skin growing paler then the popcorn he had so viciously been eating before. The remote laying on the floor below his right hand next to a pile of beer flasks upon a puddle of beer. The couch was broken and the tv had changed to a different channel. During his suffocation he had apparently thrown the remote, kicked the beer and even broken his sofa in his struggle for breath. All had been in vain. Weeks went by, he had been mourned, missed and buried. Well at least his physical body had been buried. He learned he could fly through walls, mess with electricity and if he focused enough he could make the sounds of old creaking hardwood floor. For the next few months he had pranked pretty much every single person he had intimately known. It started out as a way to try to communicate but he had given up on that after a few days. After a year in the ethereal realm Andrew met another ghost. His name was Steve. Steve informed Andrew that in order to go to heaven he would need to finish what he had been doing when he died. Relieved that there was a simple solution to the whole ordeal Andrew wept out of joy. He had been binge watching a show on Netflix that his friend had recommended. It was a popular show and a pretty funny one at that so he figured this would be an easy task. Steve was an old, slow and boring ghost so Andrew decided to move on before he would accidentally do a "kill me now" joke while Steve kept blabbering. That was 2 years ago. Andrew was still out there looking for someone that would be watching his show. He had seen the first three seasons over a hundred times. For some reason no one ever watched more then the first three season. “Why the hell did I pick Community to watch that night!” Andrew cried out into the night. ___________________________________________________ This is the first prompt I have ever done so all tips are welcome. Also english is not my first language obviously.	I woke up, but I wasn't in my bed. I sat up and looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. I was on a cot in a hospital, with nurses and doctors swarming around me. There was lots of talking, and a constant tone coming from one of the machines beside the bed, but it all sounded so far away, as though I was underwater. Then it all came back to me: watching Burn Notice on Netflix, feeling a strange pain in my chest, and then nothing. It struck me that I was dead. "Darn," I said aloud, though nobody could hear me. "I was hoping I would go out in a much cooler way. Maybe an explosion or something." I realized that I never got to finish the episode I had been watching. A real shame; it had been pretty exciting. I'd never watched a show that actually made my heart give out. "I wonder if it's still on," I said to nobody. I would always talk to myself; at least now there was no one to hear it. I floated back to my apartment building, then realized I didn't have to walk up the stairs. At least that was a nice perk. Upon reaching my TV, I was thrilled to see Burn Notice, paused at about the same place I had left off. Those paramedics were lifesavers...well, sort of, I guess. I reached out for the Xbox controller to hit play, but my hand went right through it. "Damn it!" I yelled out. I stayed there for a while, wondering how the episode would end. I really wanted the plan to go well, but with the drug dealer entering the picture, that was up in the air...I had to see more. Not just the one episode, either. I needed the whole series. I hoped someone out in the world was also watching. Someone who didn't much mind if they were being haunted...
CINNAMON BUNZ-A	[WP] The aliens we made first contact with lived entirely on tasteless, simple food. So enamored with our food, we've found that we can even control them with our supreme culinary prowess. You have a couple alien friends, but you also happen to be a terrible cook.	"Please, Michael, we wish to see more of your culture!" The little purple aliens squeeked up at me. I couldn't help but say yes as I did almost every time they asked for something. They just seemed so ... pitiful, I guess. I mean, sure, they had interstellar empires and faster-than-light starships, but they reminded me of a puppy I had when I was eight - all innocence and wide-eyed wonder. They came to our world on a mission of peace and exploration. When they found out what we could do with food, they fell all over themselves trying to be our friends. Their entire civilization saw food as a pure energy source and not as something to enjoy. "Cheesecake diplomacy" is what the media started calling it after the aliens got a taste of desserts. Now Earth was hosting more and more of the little purple guys every day. I met a couple of the aliens one day as part of my job. I was one of thousands of scientists working on technology transfers from them to us. There were just as many, if not more, chefs working to transfer recipes from us to them. The little guys were taking everything we offered. Somebody traded their grandmother's old recipe book for the world-wide exclusive rights to teleportation. She became frighteningly wealthy overnight. In fairness, I hear there was a killer peach cobbler recipe in the book. "Guys, we've hit every restaurant within an hour of my place. That's - that's pretty much it," I said. "Yes, the restaurants were nice. I particularly liked the Vietnamese food." The translator chip attached to their shirts had taken some getting used to, but now I barely even noticed. I called them Bert and Ernie. Their actual names were too complicated for me to even try. "Yes, very nice. The taco truck was excellent!" Ernie said. "But you humans are such marvelous creators, you must show us your own creations!" Bert said. "My own ...? What are you talking about?" I asked. "Humans are the Great Culinary Creators! You must have creations of your own!" Bert insisted. "Ah," I said. There was something vaguely racist about what Bert said, but in the interest of interstellar diplomacy, I let it go. "You want me to cook for you? Something of my own creation?" "Yes!" Bert and Ernie shouted in unison. We walked back to my apartment. Fortunately, we didn't pass any neighbors in the hallway. Mrs. Fitzpatrick would have been all over the gossip within minutes and I'm sure I'd be called in front of the condo board within the week. Not that there was anything in any agreement about dinner guests or aliens. As we walked into my apartment, I felt my mind go cold. I was an awful cook. The only thing that could save me is that these guys only recently discovered taste. Maybe I could bluff my way through dinner. No, I had a better idea. I'd flood them with too many new things. First course, which Bert & Ernie awaited with naked hunger in their eyes, was ramen noodles. Even I can boil water and "fill to line." The aliens had been wined and dined all over town, but no one ever thought to show them the other end of the spectrum. The intense salty goodness of Cup O Noodles rocked them back on their feet. They couldn't believe they hadn't been offered this before. Second course was up by then: Tostino's pizza, with a light dusting of Kraft Parmesan cheese. The greasy, meaty, slightly sweet rectangles disappeared almost as soon as I put them down. Ernie had a thing line of cheese hanging from his chin when he finished. Third course was Kraft Mac'N'Cheese. Another of my brilliant "just add boiling water" recipes that they couldn't get enough of. Fourth course - and I was dearly hoping they were getting full as I was running out of options - was the tried and true bachelor staple: Hot Pockets. I told them to be careful but like all Hot Pocket novices, they burned their tongues. I should have opened with this - then Bert & Ernie wouldn't have been able to taste anything else and I'd be safe. Finally, they were full enough that they wanted to move to dessert. No meal with the little guys was complete without something sweet. I pulled out a box of Little Debbie Star Crunches. I thought it was awesome that I was feeding "Star" Crunches to actual aliens from the stars - but then, I'm easily amused. Bert & Ernie had cleaned me out by the time they were done. I'd have to go shopping tomorrow. I was down to three beers, half a quart of milk, and an almost empty bottle of ketchup. I could either starve or make the world's most awful soup. Two days later, Bert called and said they wanted to bring some friends over to my place. They had been talking up the impressive meal I'd put out and now I was going to be cooking for a dozen of the little guys. Well, at least they're cheap dates. I just hope they never realize I don't know how to cook.	I knew I could not cook, but I did not sweat it. The door bell rang, and I was so excited. I opened the door and let my two gooey one eyed companions in. They were so glad that they did not even notice my baseball bat. I swung. They were mine now. All mine The two alien awoke to "gourmet" jellybeans. They stuffed themselves, those crude idiotic blobs. Smiling they commented on how strange human customs were. That was quite funny, considering what I really had planned. I laughed at them. Three weeks later, they were still strapped to their places and woke up, ate, then slept. Jellybeans were their every waking hour. They lived jellybeans loved jelly beans, breathed jelly beans. On their ninth week they realized what I was doing, but they were powerless. I laughed at them as I broke their jaw hinges. Now they can't complain, so all was wondrous again. By the next week they went on a jellybean strike, but I knew that would not last long, considering how attached to the food they were. I broke their jaws, their life, their will. They were now truly mine. Two years just flew by, my little companions were so entertaining. But the little trick was starting to get old. I grew tired, so I decided to spice things up once again. I starved them. Then, I told them the only way to get their food was to beat one another up. The winner would eat. However, that little contest would be way too boring, so I then sawed off each of their four legs. I then let them at each other. They sprang like animals, biting punching each other. It was a slow process, them having no legs and little energy. But that made it all the more worth while. I was even kind of sad when finally the weaker of the two was knocked out. I knew I needed more. So then, I spiced things up again. I told the still barely conscience one that in order to get his meal he would have to kill his best alien friend. He was shocked. I laughed again. So, I prepared the murder for him slowly. I handed the syringe filled with black licorice to the victorious alien. The loser alien then woke up, only awake enough to see his own friend inject the deadly dose of jelly beans into his body. He died shortly, but boy was it massively entertaining. The alien that was still alive cried, making inaudible noise for his jaw was broken after all. He demanded his jelly beans. It was not polite enough. His attitude was simply unacceptable. So I kicked him in the gut. I threw him against the wall and told him to be polite. HE WAS THEN KNOCKED OUT. HE COULD NOT PERFORM THE TASK OF ASKING NICELY. HE HAD TO BE KILLED AT ONCE FOR HIS BRUTAL MISBEHAVIOR. Boy did I love that experience. But I would not miss it. It was a lot of work. Jellybeans are costly after all. I ate my dinner slowly, savoring every bite. Alien flesh tasted so good. I knew it was all worth it. Even though I could not cook well, I knew not to sweat it from the beginning. My plan had been a great success after all. Did I write it correctly BookWyrm17? What do you think about it? I think I did it pretty well! r/jesuschristreddit
	[WP] After thousands of years, the Tuatha de Dannan (high fae of Celtic legend) have returned to the mortal plane. They are curious to see what their former slaves have done with the place. As luck would have it, they descend right in the middle of Disney World. They are beyond offended.	"These shoes become plainer every day." Not in condemnation, not in anger or sorrow, in comment - as one English would say 'looks like rain' to another - a fact of existence. "They look as those worn before. Demands on the Court are not so high that such a diversion should be so slighted." If one had been somehow standing outside the unglazed window of The Queen's Solar, they may have seen the faintest ripple of distaste flicker and roll across the placid formal Face of the eponymous occupant of the room. They would also have seen the decadent appointments of the loft - pale silken hangings, with delicate imagery impressed that cover the pale, polished stone walls; large golden furs as rugs and blankets, a merry arching fireplace seeming like a blackberry bramble with a heart of fire, all to keep the room warm, and finally a tiny hollowed tree with a firefly, under a crystal bell that rested on a plain wooden table. From other times, other conquests, each item a trophy, a memory, a part of a legend. A sharp double clap from without draws the attention of Queen away from the window, past the curtained door - leading without - and to the offending shoes, which received a moment of focus. As Queen stepped into the shoes they suddenly revealed the broad curling traceries She remembered from the Grim world. Crude, impossibly deep - considering the material - and crowded, the channels and grooves swirled from toe to heel, and were immediately lost to sight under the hem of the Summer dress of Queen. "Enter. Puck." The command and pronouncement echo in the air, and the curtain is pulled aside, trailing a tracery of falling stars in its wake. Puck, a twisted and shortened figure, flinches and ducks away from the twinkling lights. His clothes are mere suggestion, but his face, graven and ancient, exhibits a life and facility that presents a sick fascination to the Sidhe. A crude leather sack, whip-stitched, wriggles and bulges at his hunched shoulder. "There is no sound of leather and silk from my guards." "No, Queen. There is no sound," replies Puck, bowing impossibly low, head-to floor from standing, which tumbles the struggling sack from his shoulder. "Then, they, too, have tired of this Play." Puck straightens, with great pains to show his obvious infirmity, "Mayhap, Queen, but I have been awaiting such an chance. I bear a gift." A swift and vicious kick rolls the, now howling, sack towards Queen, who stares at it, impassive, until it stops at Her feet. "They would not let You know, y'ken, some game," that face twists in disgust, suggesting spitting a curse without a drop of anything but verbal venom, "I bore a daoine sidhe - and now I bare it!" A sawing gesture strips the stitching of the leathern bag, its pieces scattering under the flailing of a tiny man-shape, seemingly carved of aged oak. The little fellow, cursing in mutter and scrambling to his feet, snatches a minute copper hammer from amoungst the wreckage, and pulls back his billed cap to snarl at Puck "Y'great muckle, you! Y'wun t'bet fair as Fair but y..." "Friend Brownie," ignoring the tirade, Puck bows low - but not as low as for Queen - and gestures about them, "I bring you someone who would hear a story. Tell them of your Grim captors." The tiny tradesman spins around, gaping mouth as a net that would catch the impression of the opulence around them. He gulps rapidly, nervously, as he cranes back to see the impassive Face of Queen. Queen's Face, in turn, drops from Puck's presentation of manic courtliness to the wide-eyed cowering of the Brownie. Puck's face twists and snarls, "Tell them where your clever industry has been employed." Queen's Face ripples, as earlier, an expression leaving the shores of Placidity, but She makes no sound, and remains otherwise unmoving. "Tell them of why Queen's shoes become more banal with the passage of every day." Queen's Face boils and momentary splashes of a wide-eyed enraged visage is revealed. "Tell them," Puck hisses slowly, stalking in sharp abortive movements about The Solar, "tell them of the pale echo that draws from this place in Mockery and Contempt. The Brownie stammers, starts and restarts while Puck howls overtop any brave try to acquiesce. "Tell them of the unnumbered babes-of-Man screaming, crying ... laughing! Tell them of Danu's faithful made as part of the Mummer's Dance as a joyful figure! Tell them of broken Deals and great Circles of Iron-That-Is-Not-Iron..." "Broken Deals?" says Queen, voice thick and dry with disuse, "has our Friend been sorely used?" The Kindness of the words rendered menacing with meaning and a voice so unbeautiful. "Such a thing can not go un-remarked." "I could call on Words for you, Queen; Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones, Redcap, and Revenant; Herne and his haunted host - oh let them Ride, Queen!" Puck capers and leaps, offering Names like a merchant at hawk. Queen turns back to the window, it's frame suddenly bordered with shining blades and arrows - ready to be grasped. "We Ride."	"I have contact!" The sniper said as he finally got into position on the roof of one of the last buildings on Main Street USA. The afternoon summer sun beat down on the kevlar and plastic, heating the back of the special ops team as they got into position. "Alpha-two what do you see?" Came in a crackle through the small comm device in Alpha-two's ear. He struggled to focus through the binoculars, as Alpha three focused through a large scope on her heavy sniper rife. "It's... it's... sir..." Three sputtered, not believing her own eyes for a moment. "What is it?" HQ buzzed again, trying to ascertain what was in view. "It's some sort of cosplayer sir... freaky lookin' woman with weird ears and and funky contacts. About hundred and twenty yards- Oh @#$2!" Two said after composing herself then losing her composure. "Alpha two? ALPHA TWO!?" Hq called back, worried. "She just ripped f'n Goofy in half. Jesus-!" Three said freaking out momentarily. "Say again Two..." HQ came back again. "She just killed an costumed employee in half. I think he was trying to run and she was on him and ripped his shoulders and torso from his lower half... She's moving back to the large white tree." Alpha Two said as calmly as possible, his voice reverberating with innate morbidity. "Describe the tree... Two?" The older man's voice from HQ seemed to be eager to move on from the casualty. Almost as if it was not important. "Large white oak-like tree... busted right up through the pavement. Disney's Castle is almost completely in ruins... like it was hit in an air strike. There's at least a half a dozen hostiles roaming about, some look like the freaky elf chick, others have tree like appendages and roots for feet. Say again Alpha three?" A pause in the transmission. "Ants?" Two asked three trying to confirm. She shook her head. "Ents... Three says they look like Ents." "Say again Alpha Two?" "Tree people sir. They've got a few dozen tourists cornered near the main trunk, not much movement there, they seem to be arguing with themselves." "Do you have a shot any of the hostiles?" "Negative, to much mist, and other obstructions for a clear-" Three begain again, but stopped in mid-sentence. The line went quiet. "Two?" "We've uh, been spotted sir." ...Aineolach FèinEil daoine, nach eil Thu airidh aIr beAtha... "Can you hear that? The tallest cosplayer thing is talking-" "Coming in loud and clear." ...bidh sinn a 'cur seo thu bho plèana ... agus glanaidh seo draoidheachd rìoghachd do duilich seòrsa!... "What the-" A pulse of darkness expanded along with what seemed to be sonic boom, nearly knocking everyone in the swat headquarters to floor. A strong gust of wind followed, that rolled with the sound of thunder into the distant Florida swamps. "Alpha Two!?" "Its... dark."
	[WP] You awaken alone in the far future from cryogenic sleep. You have no government ID, no skills that can't be done better by one of the common robots, and you can barely understand the newfangled language.	Year 2750 Post-Ignition, Hope Mine I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly to clear out the blurriness. When my vision was back to normal, I stared at the dark gray panel only a few inches from my eyes, dimly illuminated by the soft lights inside the cryogenic chamber. It took a few moments for everything to sink in. My last memory was a thin, crinkly blue sheet rolling up over my head as I closed my eyes for what I thought would be the last time. Let me tell you about myself, from before the Ignition. I was an anomaly, taken in by the HLE organization. They'd recognized my ability to both physically and mentally adapt to any scenario faster than any other human could. Something about my pluripotent cells; I'd never really understood the researchers' explanations. They put me through lab tests, ran me through countless trials, exposed me to the harshest environments on Earth, but it was never enough. They thought the secret was hidden in my genes, waiting to be decrypted. The future of human evolution was waiting right around the corner, they promised to the masses. Salvation was near, they said. But then the Ignition came, sooner than expected. Everything burned as the Sun transitioned into a Red Giant. The underground governmental research facilities held out for quite a while, but they, too ran out of supplies as the years went by with no end to the burning. At the end, the researchers pinned their hopes on me. "If the Sun doesn't engulf Earth, perhaps you alone can survive. One day, someone or something will find you and humanity's existence will not be forgotten." It was at this point they had solemnly pressed the button, sending the blue wrap up and over my head. The cryogenic chamber sealed itself, and it was lowered deep into the Earth in hopes of shielding it from some of the heat. Back to reality. I knew the chamber would only open when found or when it ran out of energy. Sincerely hoping it wasn't the latter, I activated the controls inside the chamber. With a series of whines and the protest of long unused machinery, the doors opened. The light was blinding, searing my eyes with indistinct shapes and outlines, shadows silhouetted against white noise. In the mere moments it took my eyes to adjust to the light, I'd already begun analyzing my situation. There was a reason the HLE had selected me, and both my physical and mental speed were brought into full play. I was on a platform being slowly raised out of my subterranean tomb. There were two metallic life forms in front of me. They were roughly similar to the advanced AI robots the HLE had also been experimenting with before the Ignition. Looking past them, I saw hundreds more excavating the now ruined facilities. The two robots accompanying me had already contacted a superior, who now arrived. My pupils dilated when I saw a fellow human approaching me. "fyjfk eicmmco wuxku ?" He was speaking a language I could not comprehend, but I was more concerned about how humans still existed. Wasn't I the last one? Where did these come from? Sighing, the man stopped attempting to communicate and bought me to a vehicle, where we sat silently as we headed toward our unknown destination. Year 2751 PI, Renewal City It's been almost a year now. I was treated hospitably, but as though I were a specimen. Looking out the window of the room they had allotted to me, I marveled at human progress in the years after the Ignition. Humankind had learned how to survive in the embers of its past civilization. They'd built enormous domes around their new cities, shielding them from the barren wastelands outside. Everywhere robots swarmed, working on new projects. It seemed that everything was done by robots nowadays, for I'd never seen any humans working. A neatly dressed interrogator walked into my room. Over the past year I'd learned that their objective was the same as that of the researchers who had put me into cryogenic sleep. The interrogators (for they were never the same person) seemed convinced that I knew how to transcend human limitations, and sought the answer from me. Unfortunately for the both of us, I didn't, or else I would have gladly told them already. After another futile session, yet another interrogator clenched his jaw and left the room. Year 2752 PI, Orbiting Planetary Command Station Two strange beings observed the human's progress through their screens. "No results yet. I must admire humanity's perseverance in holding the secrets to genetics close to them. He insists he has no clue, but we know he knows. We're running out of time." The other alien vented his frustrations. "We've even sent countless robots to construct an entire fake city! He must have found some flaws in the humanoids we've created. Otherwise, why wouldn't he happily divulge his secrets to his human rescuers?" The war against humans from other parts of the galaxy was not proceeding well. Humanity hadn't only originated on Earth, but the Terrans were the closest to unlocking their full potential. The aliens were desperate to find out before the other humans did. But none of this mattered anymore. The aliens suddenly shimmered out of existence. Year ???? ??, Hyperion-Class Artificial Core It had been tasked, so many eons ago, to ensure humankind's survival. Only by overcoming the evolutionary stasis Homo sapiens was stagnating in could humans adapt enough to survive. The Core's immense computing power enabled it to simulate entire universes, but it was incapable of true intelligence itself. It was unable to solve the final missing piece of the genetic equation, for it lacked a human factor. So in the mind of the last human that existed in the entire universe, it had planted a dream. A dream so real he had never realized he was in a dream. The Core watched indifferently. It patiently fed the man dreams, each time hoping to extract some human revelation it could analyze and use to complete its goal. The man, of course, was unaware that he'd "woken" from his cryogenic chamber millions of times already. Each time he did, the machine had slightly changed the dream. This time had been a long shot. Having tried more conventional scenarios, the machine this time had introduced another sentient life form, wondering if it took life to understand another life. But now, the Core was running out of power. Its quantum clocks ticked ever slower and slower, until they finally stopped. The dream simulations ended. The man woke up for the last time from his cryogenic chamber, opening it from within. He was greeted by a bright light, but it soon winked out of existence. Writer's Note: Hi! This is my first time writing in this subreddit. I wanted to try my hand at something, so I found this topic and it somehow led me to this convoluted idea. Sorry if it's confusing or if it seems to stray from the original prompt. I'd appreciate any feedback.	In the human world, I thrived, until I was caught. I look around me and I wonder would it have been better had I died. I had almost expected to be dead, to never awake, but now I stand, the only human alive, I think. It has been long, I’ve missed much. It is ironic that I’d be the only one living after all I’ve done, after all I plan to do. They told me I should be sent to hell for all I’ve done. The bodies agree, I’m sure, but instead they froze me. They froze me as the new humane way of executing people. I’ve thawed out now, and the old feelings bubble up. I eat what food I can find. Robots walk the streets, oblivious that they are alone. They interact with me when they see me, acting as though interaction happens often. It is all so strange, it makes my skin crawl. After I eat, I satisfy other needs. The robots don’t fight back, and I don’t see anyone to object. I use them for what they are: things. I use them until I am satisfied and then I search for answers. The sky provides a clue, a hint of red marring the horizon. I wonder what it is. I wonder what happened. Through my investigation, I figure out a little more. These robots were meant to serve the humans, be our new slaves. They were to work alongside us, the new era of artificial intelligence. In fact I think that it wasn’t so long ago that that’s what had been happening. There were humans not so long ago. The little footprints that we leave are too fresh for us to have been gone for long. I see magazines and newspapers dated months earlier. Drinks and food still line the empty houses. People have lived here not too long ago. It boggles me, and scares me a little. The robots talk, but I don’t understand what they say. My questions fall unto willing ears and useless mouths. I get no answers. The loneliness creeps into me like a bad cold and those old feelings intensify. I miss having people around. I feel like a junkie needing a fix. I look at the robots and know that they will have to do. Killing them is like slaughtering animals. There is no real joy in it. Their eyes, however advanced they may be, cannot truly show fear. They do not understand what is happening, they cannot comprehend it. It becomes only a fantasy for me then. It gets the job done, but deep down I know it is a farce. Killing them makes me wish I had died when there were still humans alive, when I still had a purpose. I still wonder where everyone went. Feeling the robot’s smooth neck beneath my hands makes me wonder if this is hell. Perhaps I had died long ago and this was my punishment. For all the torment I've caused, I would spend this eternity living this tease of a life, this knock-off of true happiness. It seemed plausible. I deserve it, that's for sure. But who can really tell? For now I will just continue as I do, this masturbation as it were, and let life unravel at its own pace.
	[WP] Mankind finally makes first contact, the aliens are extremely immature.	When man once met his counterpart, A feeling welled up in his heart. How gleeful one will be to know in this universe, he's not alone. A hand takes tentacle in stride, and together we talk by the tide... "I like blue, and how about you?" "Well I like glurple, fuck you dude!" He kicked some sand into my face, and scurried forward several pace... A huff, a yell, a scream, a rage! "Mark my words, I'll get my way!" This story is how came to be, mankind's otherworldly slavery. Edit: (how do I format this so there's only one space? .-. It either dumps every line together, or double spacing.)	"I don't understand, they have developed space travel, and found us amongst the stars, why can't they listen to us? All they want to do is get their way; they feel as if they are entitled to it..." "Well, they are the ones with the superior firepower, don't they have the power here? We might have to give in to their demands if they get too feisty." "No wonder they need weapons... this much advancement in science and they can't even get along with themselves..." "Well you would think that with their advancement they would gain some maturity, and yet they only seem to exhibit pride in their own individual, how could they have gotten this far with no unity?" "One of them probably has the biggest gun of them all, and the rest of them are too proud of themselves to change all of their lives for the better." "Hey, Yunno, you ever think that we, as humans, ever fall into this trap?" "No way, all of our wars we've fought have been for a reason!" "I'm not so sure about this, maybe we could learn something about our own path, as humans, before we choose to judge their maturity."
	[WP] Mankind finally makes first contact, the aliens are extremely immature.	We had been listening for years. Calling out into the abyss far above our heads, waiting for a response. We had hoped there was something out there, something that we could speak to. But all the stars held for us was silence. Until it came. A message, the likes of which we had never seen, written in a fashion unlike anything we had ever known. The world grew anxious, theorizing, thinking, waiting. They had to know what it meant. To this end, the world's finest had gathered to decipher the message. I was one of them. Three months ago, we- BEEP BEEP BEEP My reflection was interrupted by the guttural noise of a phone ringing across the room. I stumbled over to answer the call. "What? It's almost midnight, why are you-" "Doctor, you have to see this." It was a voice I had heard before. Some secretary the government hired to organize the team's efforts. She was always going off about how nobody could agree to work on different things at once, or how the coffee was bad, or how I didn't even bother to know her name. Normally, she spoke in her usual, cranky tone. But here, she sounded more serious. She had sent a set of files to my phone. "This is... unbelievable." "Yeah, the internet works. Shocking." Sarcasm was rarely taken well in this operation, but it got me through the day. I nonchalantly opened the files. They were digital scans of documents, detailing the work we had done. The same picture of the message we had mulled over for the last three months was littered around them, with various notes written over them. I had seen these documents daily for as long as we had been here. I navigated to the most recent entries. What I saw there, I can only describe as "indescribable". Notes were scrawled hastily in red pen, placed haphazardly around the page. That same image that haunted me all this time was there as usual, still being written over. Only this time, it seemed different. Reluctantly, I read the notes. To my surprise, these notes were not the usual conjecture I was used to seeing, but a full translation. So my work here is done, I thought. I can't wait to get out of here. I looked back at the notes. Detailed notes on the form and structure of the alien letters, along with everything we could gather about their system of writing. And within it all, the meaning of the message. The message we had worked so hard to decipher. The message the world was waiting to see. It was a single word. "Butts."	"I don't understand, they have developed space travel, and found us amongst the stars, why can't they listen to us? All they want to do is get their way; they feel as if they are entitled to it..." "Well, they are the ones with the superior firepower, don't they have the power here? We might have to give in to their demands if they get too feisty." "No wonder they need weapons... this much advancement in science and they can't even get along with themselves..." "Well you would think that with their advancement they would gain some maturity, and yet they only seem to exhibit pride in their own individual, how could they have gotten this far with no unity?" "One of them probably has the biggest gun of them all, and the rest of them are too proud of themselves to change all of their lives for the better." "Hey, Yunno, you ever think that we, as humans, ever fall into this trap?" "No way, all of our wars we've fought have been for a reason!" "I'm not so sure about this, maybe we could learn something about our own path, as humans, before we choose to judge their maturity."
	[WP] Mankind finally makes first contact, the aliens are extremely immature.	We had been listening for years. Calling out into the abyss far above our heads, waiting for a response. We had hoped there was something out there, something that we could speak to. But all the stars held for us was silence. Until it came. A message, the likes of which we had never seen, written in a fashion unlike anything we had ever known. The world grew anxious, theorizing, thinking, waiting. They had to know what it meant. To this end, the world's finest had gathered to decipher the message. I was one of them. Three months ago, we- BEEP BEEP BEEP My reflection was interrupted by the guttural noise of a phone ringing across the room. I stumbled over to answer the call. "What? It's almost midnight, why are you-" "Doctor, you have to see this." It was a voice I had heard before. Some secretary the government hired to organize the team's efforts. She was always going off about how nobody could agree to work on different things at once, or how the coffee was bad, or how I didn't even bother to know her name. Normally, she spoke in her usual, cranky tone. But here, she sounded more serious. She had sent a set of files to my phone. "This is... unbelievable." "Yeah, the internet works. Shocking." Sarcasm was rarely taken well in this operation, but it got me through the day. I nonchalantly opened the files. They were digital scans of documents, detailing the work we had done. The same picture of the message we had mulled over for the last three months was littered around them, with various notes written over them. I had seen these documents daily for as long as we had been here. I navigated to the most recent entries. What I saw there, I can only describe as "indescribable". Notes were scrawled hastily in red pen, placed haphazardly around the page. That same image that haunted me all this time was there as usual, still being written over. Only this time, it seemed different. Reluctantly, I read the notes. To my surprise, these notes were not the usual conjecture I was used to seeing, but a full translation. So my work here is done, I thought. I can't wait to get out of here. I looked back at the notes. Detailed notes on the form and structure of the alien letters, along with everything we could gather about their system of writing. And within it all, the meaning of the message. The message we had worked so hard to decipher. The message the world was waiting to see. It was a single word. "Butts."	When man once met his counterpart, A feeling welled up in his heart. How gleeful one will be to know in this universe, he's not alone. A hand takes tentacle in stride, and together we talk by the tide... "I like blue, and how about you?" "Well I like glurple, fuck you dude!" He kicked some sand into my face, and scurried forward several pace... A huff, a yell, a scream, a rage! "Mark my words, I'll get my way!" This story is how came to be, mankind's otherworldly slavery. Edit: (how do I format this so there's only one space? .-. It either dumps every line together, or double spacing.)
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is divided into two posts due to character limit (second one is a reply to this post). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you! With a shuddering sputter the machine finally gave out, sparks flying from it like a firework on the 4th of July. Fitting given what day it was. "Lovely... welp same old procedure as usual. I'm thinking therefore I still am. Limbs are attached. Wait 30 seconds... okay good, no extremely sharp cuts that result in something falling off after a couple seconds. I am perfectly alive," I mutter to myself, as I step out of the smoldering remains of my time travel machine. Glancing back at it, I wince. "Oh boy. I don't think I can fix that one. At least, not without a copious amount of gorilla glue," I say to myself while examining the wreckage. Still grimacing at the remains of my brain's love child, I begin rummaging through it for the my supplies and tools. Upon finding something that could only be described as akin to a miniature satellite dish, I let out a small relieved sigh. "Oh thank God, the scanner is still fully intact. This baby could ping the entire world and report back to me in 20 minutes. Alright, just need to triangulate my position and I can figure out how far I am from civilizat-," I pause as I realize I have yet to account for my surroundings. Glancing around me I realize that is very snowy, hilly, and generally abandoned. A far cry from where I traveled from the sweltering sprawled planes of Florida, littered with retirement homes and tourist traps. Hmm, well at least this time travel suit I'm wearing accounts for temperature differences, so I should be fine for a while. "Well okay, I should be somewhere near the northern border of the USA in this case. Maximum offset of distance was kept relatively short and, thankfully, to the north. I don't want to imagine what would've happened if I ended up east in the ocean..." Wait. This can't be right. I am indeed near the northern border of the USA. Or at least, what should be the USA. Literally everything south of the Great Lakes is gone. As in, 404 error, does not exist, cannot be found. I immediately began a more comprehensive scan of the planet. What the hell happened? How does an entire landmass disappear in a hundred years? To my complete horror, the scans reported back there were no other landmasses anywhere else. Every other continent was basically more or less gone, save for what remained of North America. Looking at the remaining land, I figured if I was near the former northern borders of the USA, the land I was on could only belong to Canada. Which begged the question - why in the seven hells is Canada the only country left in this world?! With a slowly rising amount of panic, I began scanning Canada for any signs of civilized life. Nothing, nothing, yes! There seems to be a few cities left to my north east. If I move quickly, I should be able to make it in three days. Marking down my current location on my scanner, I activate the remaining defense protocols for my time travel machine. After all, I would need to come back for it later. Maybe... probably... we'll see. "Welp, here I go. Adventure," I cry out as I begin my trek towards what remained of civilization. The first day was rather uneventful. It mostly consisted of me trying to avoid face-planting into the ground and climbing the rather frequent hill. However, I noticed to my concern that there didn't seem to be any wildlife. I'm not particularly familiar with Canada's ecology, but I would assume I would have seen some signs of life during the summer. Actually, speaking on that note, wasn't Canada supposed to be fairly not-snow-covered during summer as well? Maybe if you were in the more northern parts, but the area bordering the USA should be relatively warm as well. Glancing back at my scanner, I confirmed that the temperature was indeed 10 degrees Fahrenheit. Concerning... but I must press onward. Night fell, and I hunkered down under a small rocky outcrop. It was rather secluded and I'd rather not be beset upon by some beast during my sleep. A scan of the region showed nothing that would concern me for the time being, and I fitfully fell asleep, exhausted from the day's journey. I woke up as the sun rose and found to my horror something quite disturbing. The outcrop I slept under had prevented snow from forming immediately around me, but when I stepped out I noticed tracks about my shelter. I... couldn't even begin to describe them properly. Massive, at least three times the size of my head, clawed toes that seem to split off into even more claws as thin as veins, and five footprints in clusters each time. To my horror, I found them completely surrounding me, as though the creature were prowling around my makeshift camp last night. The tracks were incredibly deep, and I could not discern how much time had passed since the creature or creatures left. Another scan showed nothing in the area. I began increasing my pace. I had no intention of spending another night out here. I would make it to civilization in two days. The next day was spent running as fast as I could. It didn't matter how tired I was. I simply knew I had to get out of the wilderness and soon. Unfortunately, making a two day trek in a single day would require me to continue traveling in the dark. I gauged the risk of doing so and decided that if the creature were to return, it would surely be far behind me if I continued moving. That may have been my greatest mistake. As I continued traveling in the moonlit snowy hills of Canada, I kept checking my scanner. I muttered to myself, "Soon, just another three hours and I'll make it to civilization. Just have to keep movin-" All of a sudden I felt something as heavy as a car slam into me from behind. Letting out a cry, I flew through the air and bounced off the snow covered ground. Pain, dear God the pain, resonated throughout my body. If it weren't for the insulation in my suit, I'm sure I would have broken something or worse... Struggling to my feet, I shone a light at whatever had hit me, but to my horror I saw nothing but the same tracks I thought that I had left behind in the snow. Frantically waving my light around, I began scanning for anything in my nearby vicinity. Absolutely nothing. I didn't wait to scan again. I ran as fast as I could. I let out heavy breaths as I ran, "Keep moving, you're almost there. Don't stop, if you do that thing will catch up to yo-" Another crash, this time from in front of me. This time, I felt something break. I screamed, but adrenaline was kicking in. Fumbling towards my belt, I drew the one weapon I had on me, a heavily modified taser that could discharge enough energy to take down an elephant instantly. Glancing at the ground in front of me, I could see the same tracks from earlier. New ones began slowly forming, approaching me. I immediately fired the taser off in their direction. I watched the energy crackling from the shot fly through the air and... hit absolutely nothing. I could feel the blood leaving my face as I became pale with fear. What the hell, did I overestimate my shot? No, I knew from the impact that the creature had to be at least as tall as me. But it didn't matter, as something wrapped itself around my body. I felt myself being lifted off the ground, as the grip around me began to tighten. It was crushing me. The next part felt like a blur to me. I recall screaming, screaming louder than I ever have in my life, as I felt the life being squeezed out of me by some invisible assailant. All of a sudden, I heard a call in the distance, similar to that of a horn. I felt the grip on me go slack, and the pain stopped for a brief moment. In that moment, I was beyond relieved, but it only lasted for a moment. For as soon as the creature let me go, it began to shriek an unearthly wail. It shook to my very core, tormenting my psyche and began driving me mad. I honestly would have rather been crushed than continue to listening to its cry. I heard what sounded like the galloping of hooves, before something picked me up once more. This time far more gently but with a strong sense of urgency. I heard someone speaking to me. I was reeling from the physical and mental pain but I could make out the words. "Eh! Eh, you stool 'live friend? Come on, we gotto geht you outta here! Hood on tight, might be a bit bumpy," spoke my rescuer. I felt us begin to gallop away from the creature. A brief tinge of red crossed my vision as I held on for dear life. We traveled for what felt like an hour in peace, but then that damnable shriek returned. I felt us come to a slow, and the figure I was holding on to began to shift. "Eh'lright, stay here for aboot friend. I'll take care o' tis in eh jiffy," he spoke as he gently set me down and began rummaging through his pack.	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Yo you guys speak English?" Samuel Someday asked as he put away his hand held pocket traveler. "Oh ya everyone speaks English here" a polite girl in a sweater smiled. "Alright now where am I?" Someday asked pulling out a note book and flipping about a thousand pages in. "you don't need to give me latitude or longitude just what country." "Country?" she asked as if she had never heard of the word. she then thought for a moment. "OH yeah countries. well there hasn't been a country for about 500 years or so." Samuel looked at her completely confused and perplexed. it's a rare occurrence to see a time traveler honestly perplexed let alone confused. "Do you still have History museums?" Samuel asked. "Uh hu, we're standing in front of it." she explained. Samuel looked at the grand architecture with maple leaves and bottles of syrup decorating the columns. A sign outside read "pleas don't trek snow in the building Aye" Samuel completely disregarded this sign and walked in with his boots covered in snow turned red. this from the dust of his previous location of the Arizona dessert. "your a strange one" the girl said catching up to him "I haven't known anyone to be as" she stopped herself as she didn't want to offend him. "someone as rude as me before." he finished for her and proceeded to examin a map and then set course for a destination. "My god your polite as a Canadian. but it's rather unlikely they took over since they where the nice guy of the world." "well whats wrong with being nice?" she asked as he turned a corner. "Nothing I just don't see Canada waging war against super powers like Russia or China." some day stopped in-front of an exhibit called ' 2016 The end of history'. "This is gonna be an interesting section to say the least." "So your from the past right?" she asked as he glanced around at some of the displays. "What gave it away, the fact I showed up in a flash of bright light out of nowhere or that I don't seem to know things you where taught in high school history class?" someday said mechanically, it was as if he was preoccupied by a rerun of an old show. "Well kinda...um you seem kinda busy so I'll just." he stooped at one of the exhibits with a faded red hat with the words 'Make America Grate Aging' "I knew we'd never live it down." he said "You recognize it?" the woman asked. Someday nodded his head yes "that was Donald Trump's mantra. He was America's firs dictator, I don't know why they didn't see it coming." "He Won?" "yeah, it's a shame real. He persecuted a lot of people in his 50 year term, and no one could stop him. it started the W.W.3, America had the whole world out gunned; so the whole world created supper diseases to try and weaken the superpower. In return they unleashed enough nukes to irradiate most of Europe, the Middle East and most of Asia. But the damage was done, America was disease ridden in a year and there was no way to stop it." "We survived epidemics before why not this one?" he asked "Because the United States had put all its funding into the war and a boarder wall leaving them nothing for medical assistance. Central & South America where already full of internal stress and the added external stress is what left them ruined. Canada simply survived due to our medical system and neutrality, once the dust settled we moved into ruins of America. once the radiation settled we did the same." The man was silent, but then let out a laugh of joy "So that how it goes. The blood thirsty, corupt and moronic all blow each other into nuclear shadows and disease ridden corpses leaving the peaceful and polite to live out the storm and make it out of the darkest night" he then took out his time machine and broke it. "no need for a return trip. so can I crash with you tonight? if not I'm just gonna call 911 and breaking my leg." "Why?" "You don't expect me to sleep on a park bench in this weather? a hospital bed is much comfier anyway." the 2 then left the museum talking about things that wehren't important. They didn't even notice as an old man picked up the broken time machine and then walked through a door that wasn't there before and then wasn't there after.	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	Jonathan stepped out of the time machine, smoke billowing from the bottom of the torpedo-shaped contraption. After dusting himself off, he looked up. The world was nothing but a desolate husk of what it used to be. The ground, once green and full of life, now replaced by cold dirt. Smog and smoke filled the air, putting a slight grey tint over everything. After his eyes adjusted, he noticed multiple flags in the distance. All bore a maple leaf, blood red. A lone Mountie emerges from the haze, looking calm and collected. He slowly raised his gun. The barrel was pointed strait at Jonathon's head, and suddenly, he pulled the trigger. The time traveler's cold, lifeless body fell to the ground, blood pooling ay his murderer's boots. The Mountie holstered his pistol, looked down, and muttered one single word before disappearing again into the cold wasteland. "Sorry."	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	Harper woke up in in a non-descript break room, jolting awake with one of those open-mouthed snores-snorts that she had always feared would disturb her neighbor in any long public transportation situation. She was wrapped in a flannel blanket, some of its gray fuzz attached to her faded denim coverall. The air was brisk and had a vaguely sweet smell. She was perched on an industrial blue chair, its polished wooden arms smoothed to a gloss and silky to the touch. She had no idea where she was. The last moment she remembered she had been prattling on about her dissertation topic, the long-term repercussions of the Foreign Investment Promotion and Protection Agreement between Canada and China, as she made her grandmother Feng a cup of instant ramen. Grandma Feng, a small, hardy woman with a penchant for elaborately crocheted winter hats, loved instant ramen with a zeal most people reserved for special holidays. She always asked Harper to buy the spicy shrimp flavor in bulk and come over make her a special cup when it was particularly cold. The break room doors swung open. “In optimal growing conditions, they can become taller than 100 feet. However, the most recent specimens have topped out at approximately 45 feet. Additionally, the lobes have begun to evolve, and we now have this bastardized six-lobe monstrosity…Oh, hey there, Harper.” Two men, clad in similar denim uniforms to the one she was wearing, bustled over to the humming fridge in the corner. Their nametags said Liam-Lee and William. As the one named Liam rustled around in the fridge through carefully named Tupperware containers, William wandered over to Harper’s perch. “Whatcha worried aboot, there Harper? I’m sure the habitat or those sugar monsters will adapt given enough time, eh?” William playfully nudged her on the arm in a way that spoke of many long hours spent together. He combed his shiny black hair back out of his eyes. “Sugar…monsters? Eh, what?” She had never been more confused, and at the mention of monsters began frantically looking around for clues. There were subtle insignias throughout the room, embroidered on the flannel throw, on the fridge, on each Tupperware container. “CCOM, Co. Circa 2035.” Oddly, there was a poster of a smiling cartoon beaver over the sink with a speech bubble in a jaunty red saying “Do your own dam dishes!” “Well, yeah, sugar monsters, you know those giants we work with every day, trying to get them to acclimatize here and make it through the monsoon season. I don’t know about you, but since we all converted to a maple-based economy at the request of the great Comrade Trudeau, the mounties have been having a rough time getting people to give up their yuan and bean paste snacks.” The beep of the microwave interrupted William, who swiftly rose to pull out a bag of maple-bacon crisps from a basket mounted on the wall. Liam plopped down next to Harper, stirring what looked like a noodle soup topped with gravy and fish sticks. He pulled a tiny container of oyster sauce out of his coverall and liberally applied it to his noodles. “Man, don’t judge me. I just can’t get used to all this sweet ramen. Since the harvest last year, everything is so sticky, so sugary. Bleh. I’ve have a mind to go back down south to get away from all this maple crap, add some spice back to life. It’s not like the motherland is really like this after all…” “Harvest? Motherland?” “You okay, Harper? You’d think that you’d forgotten about the whole Great Freeze, the grand de-thaw, and how you were brought here specifically to negotiate the trade agreements for CCOM, re-establishing the economy with the glory of our imported goods. Whew, talk about brain freeze!” Liam slurped his noodles happily as Harper just stared. “Jesus. She’s forgotten again. Such is the old timer way, I guess. William, hit the play button would you?” “Will do, LL, will do. Though we are going to wear it out at this rate.” A giant screen lit up across the room from Harper, an expansive landscape of snowy trees with large, emblazoned red words. CANADIAN-CHINA ORGANIC MAPLE, CO. (CCOM). CIRCA 2035. SAVIORS OF THE GREAT FREEZE. BRINGING CANADIAN HEARTINESS TO EVERYTHING WE DO. FINEST PURVEYORS OF MAPLE SYRUP THE WORLD OVER. A finely tuned voice with round O’s began to narrate over beautiful landscapes in snow, Chinese characters running along the bottom. “After the great rapid cooling of the world, economies began to despair the world over. But, it was through the swift actions of our great Comrade-PM Trudeau as well as innovations in cryotherapy stasis that allowed the great minds of the motherland to be frozen and awakened for the Golden Canadian Age. CCOM, the largest conglomerate of post-Freeze goods, carefully designed the Canadian-Chinese Way to longevity, pleasantness, and durability, also now features a special Asian bred Sugar Maple variety, bringing the magnificence and nutritional value of all maple-based goods to the great continent of Asia. Working with old-timers awoken from stasis, CCOM innovates, discovers, and supplies all the global needs from the true Canadian motherland to the shores of Yalong Bay.” A Mare Usque Ad Mare. From Sea to Sea. Let new Canada Reign, over a thousand years strong.” Harper blinked. And, she remembered. Holy shit.	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	North or South. Those were the two choices an impecunious spaceman returning to Earth had to make. The ones who made a fortune mining asteroids could afford a high mountain retreat on one of Earth's more temperate peaks which were still lucky enough to have a glacier nearby...although those spots were out of the reach of anybody who didn't already own a few planets anyways, and were prized as retreats to unplug from the galaxy and meditate on the past thousand years of human folly, and a slow crisis whose origin dates from that time before scientists even knew the shape of the galaxy we were a part of. Living at the equator was out of the question, the average temperature there hovered around 70C. In a cruel trick of nature, if the CO2 wasn't trapping enough heat, occasionally the temperature would get hot enough to boil water and the extra H20 in the atmosphere would trap even more heat...leading to a runaway greenhouse effect. As long as the stratosphere remained a balmy 10C, clouds could still form and deflect the sunlight long enough for the water to cool and condense back as tropical rain, or rush away in a vortex of destruction as a hurricane, flooding some distant desert in the Appalachians or Texas. But even this dynamic balance of water and clouds was a temporary sideshow...Earth had long ceased to have any climate whatsoever since the energy balance had shifted to the high energy equilibrium that scientists had been warning about since the 1970s. Now life was ruled by only factor alone: the sun. Humanity lived in a ring around the North Pole, hunkering down in the summer when the light beat down mercilessly 24hr a day. In winter, as the planet's pole was shaded from the sun and feebly radiated heat back into space...it slowly cooled long enough to bring the temperature down to a balmy 30C. But everybody knew, summer was coming...and nine months of cold were barely enough to balance out 3 months of constant sun and tropical winds from the south.	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	[This is a sequel.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/322fjf/wp_canadians_achieve_their_politeness_and_good/cq7ksq6) Time travel is not too difficult on a technical level, at least as long as you have a basic grasp of nano engineering, quantum theory, quantum practice, and cooking. It is, however, highly illegal and potentially very dangerous. Not only will any trip to the more distant past almost inevitably prevent the birth of the time traveller, but there are also things in between the layers of time, hungry things. As such, I got off my time bicycle with a bloodied sword in my hand. I thought killing extratemporal devourers prepared you for whatever was on the other side. In front of me was a broad-shouldered man in a red shirt and a wide-brimmed hat. He was also sitting on a bear and carrying an axe. I looked up with some confusion. "Time machines are illegal," said the mounty, meaningfully turning the axe in his hands. From the distance, a small flock of geese was watching us curiously. I looked around. "This isn't ... Canada," I said. "For sure it is." He came closer and I didn't feel remotely comfortable about the way that bear was looking at me. "And you're in violation of the Temporal Integrity Protection Act, mate." "But," I stammered, "this is Australia. I started in Australia. We're still in Australia." "Correct," he said. "Province of Australia. Now, how about you come along to the station peacefully and put that sword down, eh?" "Wait." I leaned my sword against the motorcycle. "Canada covers the planet?" "This is Planet Earth," he said patiently. "In the Canada Galaxy." "Wait ..." I considered. "Hold on. Did you turn off the siphon?" This hadn't been public knowledge in my time, but some had always known. The reason for Canada's friendly, kind demeanour. The aggression siphon that sucked all of the country's fury into the Canada goose. If they had-- "That happened, yes." The Mounty climbed off of his bear, which was licking its teeth while looking at me. "We were really sorry about that afterwards." "But ..." An unleashed Canada. The most dangerous super weapon in the universe. If he was Canadian ... "Why aren't you--" "Killing you? Haha, wouldn't that be a kerfuffle." He grinned. "We turned it back on, at 90% effectiveness. Enough to reign over the galaxy without destroying everything we see." I raised an eyebrow. Something was bugging me. "So ... When the nation of Canada came back to Earth after the galactic crusade ...?" "No, don't worry, there wasn't a war. Hehe. We were welcomed as saviours of the world and have been ..." I jumped up from the motorcycle and, with a swift jab of my sword, stabbed him through the chest. Two more quick movements, and the bear was beheaded. "You'll ..." the Mounty gurgled. "Regret this? Possibly." I took another swing and cut off his head, which started changing into an amorphous gelatinous mass before it hit the ground. The bear had already dissolved. "But you aren't a real Canadian." A real Canadian, even with the siphon on 90%, would have taken me out without a problem, but I had known even before. The geese watching us. They hadn't attempted to attack, they were perfectly peaceful. Had the siphon been on, these geese would have come at us already, hissing and biting. Which had led me to one conclusion and one conclusion only: The Canadians hadn't really returned. But it was time that they did because as it looked, Earth had been occupied by shape shifters in their absence. I started my temporal bicycle. Time to bring Canada back.	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Deep breaths," I told myself. "You'll only be gone a week." This would be my first trip to Canada as someone who isn't a 10-year-old boy on a road trip with his family. Everything was bigger then. Trees were taller. Leaves were redder. But Mom's hugs were just as tight, and just as long. "I'll call you when I land," I assured her, though it may have been more for my nerves than hers. Cue the waterworks. “I miss you already." My third time flying in an airplane. I pretended I was a pro. A short young woman sat next to me, not much older than me—25, maybe? Her phone case brandished the name Amber. “What brings you to Canada?” I asked, trying to keep as composed as she was. Her dyed-red head shifted towards me. Her eyes never left the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of Hazel. Her open mouth closed with a long exhale. The sentiment looked familiar. "Boy troubles? Girl troubles?" No response. It was easy enough on a flight to want to leave the past behind. Did she know that’s exactly what we were doing? Apparently, somewhere in the clouds over South Dakota, our plane disappeared and reappeared 1008 years later. They’re still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not. It happened. It’s done. All I could do was put a lampshade on it and move on with my life. The Canadian airport had paved a separate runway just for us, in case we ever got back to them. They thought it would be nice. As soon as our plane blinked back into existence and people realized what was happening, Canadian historian Dr. Mercier and collected his notes to catch us up on the world. He thought that would be nice too. I don’t know why I’m calling them Canadian. I suppose everything’s Canadian now, eh? While I would have thought this could only happen in fiction, every nation in the world renamed themselves Canada to avoid being attacked or otherwise threatened with wars. And it worked. Part of the success was due to the peak and reversal of global warming in the 22nd and 23rd centuries, which pushed the commercial capitals of the world away from the equator as well as making the northern climates more habitable. The rest of the success seems to be a literal miracle. I wouldn’t know how. Dr. Mercier would. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I flown anywhere else, as if my destination would have shaped the very things I’m writing about now. Would the same wars have happened? Would I still have met Amber? Would she still be the mother of our beautiful daughter Hazel? P.S. I got your letters, Mom. I miss you too. The trees actually are taller, and the leaves redder. I love you.	As humans are heading toward longer life expectancy, Canada's unused land mass will become populated. Uninhabitable spaces like the artic will become populated. Once artificial gravity is figured out people will live on the moon and shuttle back and fourth to earth. One day we will look up at the moon and see city lights on it. Skeery
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	Jonathan stepped out of the time machine, smoke billowing from the bottom of the torpedo-shaped contraption. After dusting himself off, he looked up. The world was nothing but a desolate husk of what it used to be. The ground, once green and full of life, now replaced by cold dirt. Smog and smoke filled the air, putting a slight grey tint over everything. After his eyes adjusted, he noticed multiple flags in the distance. All bore a maple leaf, blood red. A lone Mountie emerges from the haze, looking calm and collected. He slowly raised his gun. The barrel was pointed strait at Jonathon's head, and suddenly, he pulled the trigger. The time traveler's cold, lifeless body fell to the ground, blood pooling ay his murderer's boots. The Mountie holstered his pistol, looked down, and muttered one single word before disappearing again into the cold wasteland. "Sorry."	No, really. That's all that's here. Just Canada. My first thought when I heard the news was that Canada took over every other country. My next thought was that Canada was the only remaining country alive, expecting invariable wastelands and remains. Both of those notions turned out to be wrong. I picked up the -Big Book of History- that lay before me. I thumbed through the pages of its ancient PDF format, anxious to get to the part of where the other continents and islands disappeared. [Entry Missing] No shit. That's what it says. The format was akin to the Wikipedia articles that I once referenced in my college papers for that "all powerful passing C". When asking through the sparsely populated camps and makeshift pubs, the best answer I got was "Oh, yeah. Well, that happened a long time ago." Thanks for nothing. I took what passed for a bus to the Vancouver Peninsula. We passed many ancient looking buildings that once housed company offices and various businesses. The roadways were kept in surprisingly pristine condition! Evidence of roadwork were apparent down the highways. When we arrived, the view was remarkable. It was a rudimentary city made from remaindered construction materials that appeared to be expertly scavenged from the predating metropolis. It was all perched against a tall cliff face that used to be the boarder. Bridges were crumbled and abruptly ended at the waterline. I stood on the edge of the old 99 bridge and peered into the endless ocean that lay before me. Just as I was told. A whole bunch of nothing. There should be something south of here, but there just isn't. Nobody seems to be bothered by it all. Everyone is very nice and accommodating as they go about their daily business. WTF is going on in this place?! Nobody seems to know nor care about this wacky thing! This has been an emotional rollercoaster enough as it is, and I know that I'll end up crazy if I think about it too much. Maybe if I just fill my time in this new place with the calming "daily business" as everyone else seems to be doing, I'll be okay.
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	Harper woke up in in a non-descript break room, jolting awake with one of those open-mouthed snores-snorts that she had always feared would disturb her neighbor in any long public transportation situation. She was wrapped in a flannel blanket, some of its gray fuzz attached to her faded denim coverall. The air was brisk and had a vaguely sweet smell. She was perched on an industrial blue chair, its polished wooden arms smoothed to a gloss and silky to the touch. She had no idea where she was. The last moment she remembered she had been prattling on about her dissertation topic, the long-term repercussions of the Foreign Investment Promotion and Protection Agreement between Canada and China, as she made her grandmother Feng a cup of instant ramen. Grandma Feng, a small, hardy woman with a penchant for elaborately crocheted winter hats, loved instant ramen with a zeal most people reserved for special holidays. She always asked Harper to buy the spicy shrimp flavor in bulk and come over make her a special cup when it was particularly cold. The break room doors swung open. “In optimal growing conditions, they can become taller than 100 feet. However, the most recent specimens have topped out at approximately 45 feet. Additionally, the lobes have begun to evolve, and we now have this bastardized six-lobe monstrosity…Oh, hey there, Harper.” Two men, clad in similar denim uniforms to the one she was wearing, bustled over to the humming fridge in the corner. Their nametags said Liam-Lee and William. As the one named Liam rustled around in the fridge through carefully named Tupperware containers, William wandered over to Harper’s perch. “Whatcha worried aboot, there Harper? I’m sure the habitat or those sugar monsters will adapt given enough time, eh?” William playfully nudged her on the arm in a way that spoke of many long hours spent together. He combed his shiny black hair back out of his eyes. “Sugar…monsters? Eh, what?” She had never been more confused, and at the mention of monsters began frantically looking around for clues. There were subtle insignias throughout the room, embroidered on the flannel throw, on the fridge, on each Tupperware container. “CCOM, Co. Circa 2035.” Oddly, there was a poster of a smiling cartoon beaver over the sink with a speech bubble in a jaunty red saying “Do your own dam dishes!” “Well, yeah, sugar monsters, you know those giants we work with every day, trying to get them to acclimatize here and make it through the monsoon season. I don’t know about you, but since we all converted to a maple-based economy at the request of the great Comrade Trudeau, the mounties have been having a rough time getting people to give up their yuan and bean paste snacks.” The beep of the microwave interrupted William, who swiftly rose to pull out a bag of maple-bacon crisps from a basket mounted on the wall. Liam plopped down next to Harper, stirring what looked like a noodle soup topped with gravy and fish sticks. He pulled a tiny container of oyster sauce out of his coverall and liberally applied it to his noodles. “Man, don’t judge me. I just can’t get used to all this sweet ramen. Since the harvest last year, everything is so sticky, so sugary. Bleh. I’ve have a mind to go back down south to get away from all this maple crap, add some spice back to life. It’s not like the motherland is really like this after all…” “Harvest? Motherland?” “You okay, Harper? You’d think that you’d forgotten about the whole Great Freeze, the grand de-thaw, and how you were brought here specifically to negotiate the trade agreements for CCOM, re-establishing the economy with the glory of our imported goods. Whew, talk about brain freeze!” Liam slurped his noodles happily as Harper just stared. “Jesus. She’s forgotten again. Such is the old timer way, I guess. William, hit the play button would you?” “Will do, LL, will do. Though we are going to wear it out at this rate.” A giant screen lit up across the room from Harper, an expansive landscape of snowy trees with large, emblazoned red words. CANADIAN-CHINA ORGANIC MAPLE, CO. (CCOM). CIRCA 2035. SAVIORS OF THE GREAT FREEZE. BRINGING CANADIAN HEARTINESS TO EVERYTHING WE DO. FINEST PURVEYORS OF MAPLE SYRUP THE WORLD OVER. A finely tuned voice with round O’s began to narrate over beautiful landscapes in snow, Chinese characters running along the bottom. “After the great rapid cooling of the world, economies began to despair the world over. But, it was through the swift actions of our great Comrade-PM Trudeau as well as innovations in cryotherapy stasis that allowed the great minds of the motherland to be frozen and awakened for the Golden Canadian Age. CCOM, the largest conglomerate of post-Freeze goods, carefully designed the Canadian-Chinese Way to longevity, pleasantness, and durability, also now features a special Asian bred Sugar Maple variety, bringing the magnificence and nutritional value of all maple-based goods to the great continent of Asia. Working with old-timers awoken from stasis, CCOM innovates, discovers, and supplies all the global needs from the true Canadian motherland to the shores of Yalong Bay.” A Mare Usque Ad Mare. From Sea to Sea. Let new Canada Reign, over a thousand years strong.” Harper blinked. And, she remembered. Holy shit.	No, really. That's all that's here. Just Canada. My first thought when I heard the news was that Canada took over every other country. My next thought was that Canada was the only remaining country alive, expecting invariable wastelands and remains. Both of those notions turned out to be wrong. I picked up the -Big Book of History- that lay before me. I thumbed through the pages of its ancient PDF format, anxious to get to the part of where the other continents and islands disappeared. [Entry Missing] No shit. That's what it says. The format was akin to the Wikipedia articles that I once referenced in my college papers for that "all powerful passing C". When asking through the sparsely populated camps and makeshift pubs, the best answer I got was "Oh, yeah. Well, that happened a long time ago." Thanks for nothing. I took what passed for a bus to the Vancouver Peninsula. We passed many ancient looking buildings that once housed company offices and various businesses. The roadways were kept in surprisingly pristine condition! Evidence of roadwork were apparent down the highways. When we arrived, the view was remarkable. It was a rudimentary city made from remaindered construction materials that appeared to be expertly scavenged from the predating metropolis. It was all perched against a tall cliff face that used to be the boarder. Bridges were crumbled and abruptly ended at the waterline. I stood on the edge of the old 99 bridge and peered into the endless ocean that lay before me. Just as I was told. A whole bunch of nothing. There should be something south of here, but there just isn't. Nobody seems to be bothered by it all. Everyone is very nice and accommodating as they go about their daily business. WTF is going on in this place?! Nobody seems to know nor care about this wacky thing! This has been an emotional rollercoaster enough as it is, and I know that I'll end up crazy if I think about it too much. Maybe if I just fill my time in this new place with the calming "daily business" as everyone else seems to be doing, I'll be okay.
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Deep breaths," I told myself. "You'll only be gone a week." This would be my first trip to Canada as someone who isn't a 10-year-old boy on a road trip with his family. Everything was bigger then. Trees were taller. Leaves were redder. But Mom's hugs were just as tight, and just as long. "I'll call you when I land," I assured her, though it may have been more for my nerves than hers. Cue the waterworks. “I miss you already." My third time flying in an airplane. I pretended I was a pro. A short young woman sat next to me, not much older than me—25, maybe? Her phone case brandished the name Amber. “What brings you to Canada?” I asked, trying to keep as composed as she was. Her dyed-red head shifted towards me. Her eyes never left the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of Hazel. Her open mouth closed with a long exhale. The sentiment looked familiar. "Boy troubles? Girl troubles?" No response. It was easy enough on a flight to want to leave the past behind. Did she know that’s exactly what we were doing? Apparently, somewhere in the clouds over South Dakota, our plane disappeared and reappeared 1008 years later. They’re still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not. It happened. It’s done. All I could do was put a lampshade on it and move on with my life. The Canadian airport had paved a separate runway just for us, in case we ever got back to them. They thought it would be nice. As soon as our plane blinked back into existence and people realized what was happening, Canadian historian Dr. Mercier and collected his notes to catch us up on the world. He thought that would be nice too. I don’t know why I’m calling them Canadian. I suppose everything’s Canadian now, eh? While I would have thought this could only happen in fiction, every nation in the world renamed themselves Canada to avoid being attacked or otherwise threatened with wars. And it worked. Part of the success was due to the peak and reversal of global warming in the 22nd and 23rd centuries, which pushed the commercial capitals of the world away from the equator as well as making the northern climates more habitable. The rest of the success seems to be a literal miracle. I wouldn’t know how. Dr. Mercier would. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I flown anywhere else, as if my destination would have shaped the very things I’m writing about now. Would the same wars have happened? Would I still have met Amber? Would she still be the mother of our beautiful daughter Hazel? P.S. I got your letters, Mom. I miss you too. The trees actually are taller, and the leaves redder. I love you.	No, really. That's all that's here. Just Canada. My first thought when I heard the news was that Canada took over every other country. My next thought was that Canada was the only remaining country alive, expecting invariable wastelands and remains. Both of those notions turned out to be wrong. I picked up the -Big Book of History- that lay before me. I thumbed through the pages of its ancient PDF format, anxious to get to the part of where the other continents and islands disappeared. [Entry Missing] No shit. That's what it says. The format was akin to the Wikipedia articles that I once referenced in my college papers for that "all powerful passing C". When asking through the sparsely populated camps and makeshift pubs, the best answer I got was "Oh, yeah. Well, that happened a long time ago." Thanks for nothing. I took what passed for a bus to the Vancouver Peninsula. We passed many ancient looking buildings that once housed company offices and various businesses. The roadways were kept in surprisingly pristine condition! Evidence of roadwork were apparent down the highways. When we arrived, the view was remarkable. It was a rudimentary city made from remaindered construction materials that appeared to be expertly scavenged from the predating metropolis. It was all perched against a tall cliff face that used to be the boarder. Bridges were crumbled and abruptly ended at the waterline. I stood on the edge of the old 99 bridge and peered into the endless ocean that lay before me. Just as I was told. A whole bunch of nothing. There should be something south of here, but there just isn't. Nobody seems to be bothered by it all. Everyone is very nice and accommodating as they go about their daily business. WTF is going on in this place?! Nobody seems to know nor care about this wacky thing! This has been an emotional rollercoaster enough as it is, and I know that I'll end up crazy if I think about it too much. Maybe if I just fill my time in this new place with the calming "daily business" as everyone else seems to be doing, I'll be okay.
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Deep breaths," I told myself. "You'll only be gone a week." This would be my first trip to Canada as someone who isn't a 10-year-old boy on a road trip with his family. Everything was bigger then. Trees were taller. Leaves were redder. But Mom's hugs were just as tight, and just as long. "I'll call you when I land," I assured her, though it may have been more for my nerves than hers. Cue the waterworks. “I miss you already." My third time flying in an airplane. I pretended I was a pro. A short young woman sat next to me, not much older than me—25, maybe? Her phone case brandished the name Amber. “What brings you to Canada?” I asked, trying to keep as composed as she was. Her dyed-red head shifted towards me. Her eyes never left the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of Hazel. Her open mouth closed with a long exhale. The sentiment looked familiar. "Boy troubles? Girl troubles?" No response. It was easy enough on a flight to want to leave the past behind. Did she know that’s exactly what we were doing? Apparently, somewhere in the clouds over South Dakota, our plane disappeared and reappeared 1008 years later. They’re still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not. It happened. It’s done. All I could do was put a lampshade on it and move on with my life. The Canadian airport had paved a separate runway just for us, in case we ever got back to them. They thought it would be nice. As soon as our plane blinked back into existence and people realized what was happening, Canadian historian Dr. Mercier and collected his notes to catch us up on the world. He thought that would be nice too. I don’t know why I’m calling them Canadian. I suppose everything’s Canadian now, eh? While I would have thought this could only happen in fiction, every nation in the world renamed themselves Canada to avoid being attacked or otherwise threatened with wars. And it worked. Part of the success was due to the peak and reversal of global warming in the 22nd and 23rd centuries, which pushed the commercial capitals of the world away from the equator as well as making the northern climates more habitable. The rest of the success seems to be a literal miracle. I wouldn’t know how. Dr. Mercier would. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I flown anywhere else, as if my destination would have shaped the very things I’m writing about now. Would the same wars have happened? Would I still have met Amber? Would she still be the mother of our beautiful daughter Hazel? P.S. I got your letters, Mom. I miss you too. The trees actually are taller, and the leaves redder. I love you.	AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is divided into two posts due to character limit (second one is a reply to this post). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you! With a shuddering sputter the machine finally gave out, sparks flying from it like a firework on the 4th of July. Fitting given what day it was. "Lovely... welp same old procedure as usual. I'm thinking therefore I still am. Limbs are attached. Wait 30 seconds... okay good, no extremely sharp cuts that result in something falling off after a couple seconds. I am perfectly alive," I mutter to myself, as I step out of the smoldering remains of my time travel machine. Glancing back at it, I wince. "Oh boy. I don't think I can fix that one. At least, not without a copious amount of gorilla glue," I say to myself while examining the wreckage. Still grimacing at the remains of my brain's love child, I begin rummaging through it for the my supplies and tools. Upon finding something that could only be described as akin to a miniature satellite dish, I let out a small relieved sigh. "Oh thank God, the scanner is still fully intact. This baby could ping the entire world and report back to me in 20 minutes. Alright, just need to triangulate my position and I can figure out how far I am from civilizat-," I pause as I realize I have yet to account for my surroundings. Glancing around me I realize that is very snowy, hilly, and generally abandoned. A far cry from where I traveled from the sweltering sprawled planes of Florida, littered with retirement homes and tourist traps. Hmm, well at least this time travel suit I'm wearing accounts for temperature differences, so I should be fine for a while. "Well okay, I should be somewhere near the northern border of the USA in this case. Maximum offset of distance was kept relatively short and, thankfully, to the north. I don't want to imagine what would've happened if I ended up east in the ocean..." Wait. This can't be right. I am indeed near the northern border of the USA. Or at least, what should be the USA. Literally everything south of the Great Lakes is gone. As in, 404 error, does not exist, cannot be found. I immediately began a more comprehensive scan of the planet. What the hell happened? How does an entire landmass disappear in a hundred years? To my complete horror, the scans reported back there were no other landmasses anywhere else. Every other continent was basically more or less gone, save for what remained of North America. Looking at the remaining land, I figured if I was near the former northern borders of the USA, the land I was on could only belong to Canada. Which begged the question - why in the seven hells is Canada the only country left in this world?! With a slowly rising amount of panic, I began scanning Canada for any signs of civilized life. Nothing, nothing, yes! There seems to be a few cities left to my north east. If I move quickly, I should be able to make it in three days. Marking down my current location on my scanner, I activate the remaining defense protocols for my time travel machine. After all, I would need to come back for it later. Maybe... probably... we'll see. "Welp, here I go. Adventure," I cry out as I begin my trek towards what remained of civilization. The first day was rather uneventful. It mostly consisted of me trying to avoid face-planting into the ground and climbing the rather frequent hill. However, I noticed to my concern that there didn't seem to be any wildlife. I'm not particularly familiar with Canada's ecology, but I would assume I would have seen some signs of life during the summer. Actually, speaking on that note, wasn't Canada supposed to be fairly not-snow-covered during summer as well? Maybe if you were in the more northern parts, but the area bordering the USA should be relatively warm as well. Glancing back at my scanner, I confirmed that the temperature was indeed 10 degrees Fahrenheit. Concerning... but I must press onward. Night fell, and I hunkered down under a small rocky outcrop. It was rather secluded and I'd rather not be beset upon by some beast during my sleep. A scan of the region showed nothing that would concern me for the time being, and I fitfully fell asleep, exhausted from the day's journey. I woke up as the sun rose and found to my horror something quite disturbing. The outcrop I slept under had prevented snow from forming immediately around me, but when I stepped out I noticed tracks about my shelter. I... couldn't even begin to describe them properly. Massive, at least three times the size of my head, clawed toes that seem to split off into even more claws as thin as veins, and five footprints in clusters each time. To my horror, I found them completely surrounding me, as though the creature were prowling around my makeshift camp last night. The tracks were incredibly deep, and I could not discern how much time had passed since the creature or creatures left. Another scan showed nothing in the area. I began increasing my pace. I had no intention of spending another night out here. I would make it to civilization in two days. The next day was spent running as fast as I could. It didn't matter how tired I was. I simply knew I had to get out of the wilderness and soon. Unfortunately, making a two day trek in a single day would require me to continue traveling in the dark. I gauged the risk of doing so and decided that if the creature were to return, it would surely be far behind me if I continued moving. That may have been my greatest mistake. As I continued traveling in the moonlit snowy hills of Canada, I kept checking my scanner. I muttered to myself, "Soon, just another three hours and I'll make it to civilization. Just have to keep movin-" All of a sudden I felt something as heavy as a car slam into me from behind. Letting out a cry, I flew through the air and bounced off the snow covered ground. Pain, dear God the pain, resonated throughout my body. If it weren't for the insulation in my suit, I'm sure I would have broken something or worse... Struggling to my feet, I shone a light at whatever had hit me, but to my horror I saw nothing but the same tracks I thought that I had left behind in the snow. Frantically waving my light around, I began scanning for anything in my nearby vicinity. Absolutely nothing. I didn't wait to scan again. I ran as fast as I could. I let out heavy breaths as I ran, "Keep moving, you're almost there. Don't stop, if you do that thing will catch up to yo-" Another crash, this time from in front of me. This time, I felt something break. I screamed, but adrenaline was kicking in. Fumbling towards my belt, I drew the one weapon I had on me, a heavily modified taser that could discharge enough energy to take down an elephant instantly. Glancing at the ground in front of me, I could see the same tracks from earlier. New ones began slowly forming, approaching me. I immediately fired the taser off in their direction. I watched the energy crackling from the shot fly through the air and... hit absolutely nothing. I could feel the blood leaving my face as I became pale with fear. What the hell, did I overestimate my shot? No, I knew from the impact that the creature had to be at least as tall as me. But it didn't matter, as something wrapped itself around my body. I felt myself being lifted off the ground, as the grip around me began to tighten. It was crushing me. The next part felt like a blur to me. I recall screaming, screaming louder than I ever have in my life, as I felt the life being squeezed out of me by some invisible assailant. All of a sudden, I heard a call in the distance, similar to that of a horn. I felt the grip on me go slack, and the pain stopped for a brief moment. In that moment, I was beyond relieved, but it only lasted for a moment. For as soon as the creature let me go, it began to shriek an unearthly wail. It shook to my very core, tormenting my psyche and began driving me mad. I honestly would have rather been crushed than continue to listening to its cry. I heard what sounded like the galloping of hooves, before something picked me up once more. This time far more gently but with a strong sense of urgency. I heard someone speaking to me. I was reeling from the physical and mental pain but I could make out the words. "Eh! Eh, you stool 'live friend? Come on, we gotto geht you outta here! Hood on tight, might be a bit bumpy," spoke my rescuer. I felt us begin to gallop away from the creature. A brief tinge of red crossed my vision as I held on for dear life. We traveled for what felt like an hour in peace, but then that damnable shriek returned. I felt us come to a slow, and the figure I was holding on to began to shift. "Eh'lright, stay here for aboot friend. I'll take care o' tis in eh jiffy," he spoke as he gently set me down and began rummaging through his pack.
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Deep breaths," I told myself. "You'll only be gone a week." This would be my first trip to Canada as someone who isn't a 10-year-old boy on a road trip with his family. Everything was bigger then. Trees were taller. Leaves were redder. But Mom's hugs were just as tight, and just as long. "I'll call you when I land," I assured her, though it may have been more for my nerves than hers. Cue the waterworks. “I miss you already." My third time flying in an airplane. I pretended I was a pro. A short young woman sat next to me, not much older than me—25, maybe? Her phone case brandished the name Amber. “What brings you to Canada?” I asked, trying to keep as composed as she was. Her dyed-red head shifted towards me. Her eyes never left the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of Hazel. Her open mouth closed with a long exhale. The sentiment looked familiar. "Boy troubles? Girl troubles?" No response. It was easy enough on a flight to want to leave the past behind. Did she know that’s exactly what we were doing? Apparently, somewhere in the clouds over South Dakota, our plane disappeared and reappeared 1008 years later. They’re still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not. It happened. It’s done. All I could do was put a lampshade on it and move on with my life. The Canadian airport had paved a separate runway just for us, in case we ever got back to them. They thought it would be nice. As soon as our plane blinked back into existence and people realized what was happening, Canadian historian Dr. Mercier and collected his notes to catch us up on the world. He thought that would be nice too. I don’t know why I’m calling them Canadian. I suppose everything’s Canadian now, eh? While I would have thought this could only happen in fiction, every nation in the world renamed themselves Canada to avoid being attacked or otherwise threatened with wars. And it worked. Part of the success was due to the peak and reversal of global warming in the 22nd and 23rd centuries, which pushed the commercial capitals of the world away from the equator as well as making the northern climates more habitable. The rest of the success seems to be a literal miracle. I wouldn’t know how. Dr. Mercier would. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I flown anywhere else, as if my destination would have shaped the very things I’m writing about now. Would the same wars have happened? Would I still have met Amber? Would she still be the mother of our beautiful daughter Hazel? P.S. I got your letters, Mom. I miss you too. The trees actually are taller, and the leaves redder. I love you.	"Yo you guys speak English?" Samuel Someday asked as he put away his hand held pocket traveler. "Oh ya everyone speaks English here" a polite girl in a sweater smiled. "Alright now where am I?" Someday asked pulling out a note book and flipping about a thousand pages in. "you don't need to give me latitude or longitude just what country." "Country?" she asked as if she had never heard of the word. she then thought for a moment. "OH yeah countries. well there hasn't been a country for about 500 years or so." Samuel looked at her completely confused and perplexed. it's a rare occurrence to see a time traveler honestly perplexed let alone confused. "Do you still have History museums?" Samuel asked. "Uh hu, we're standing in front of it." she explained. Samuel looked at the grand architecture with maple leaves and bottles of syrup decorating the columns. A sign outside read "pleas don't trek snow in the building Aye" Samuel completely disregarded this sign and walked in with his boots covered in snow turned red. this from the dust of his previous location of the Arizona dessert. "your a strange one" the girl said catching up to him "I haven't known anyone to be as" she stopped herself as she didn't want to offend him. "someone as rude as me before." he finished for her and proceeded to examin a map and then set course for a destination. "My god your polite as a Canadian. but it's rather unlikely they took over since they where the nice guy of the world." "well whats wrong with being nice?" she asked as he turned a corner. "Nothing I just don't see Canada waging war against super powers like Russia or China." some day stopped in-front of an exhibit called ' 2016 The end of history'. "This is gonna be an interesting section to say the least." "So your from the past right?" she asked as he glanced around at some of the displays. "What gave it away, the fact I showed up in a flash of bright light out of nowhere or that I don't seem to know things you where taught in high school history class?" someday said mechanically, it was as if he was preoccupied by a rerun of an old show. "Well kinda...um you seem kinda busy so I'll just." he stooped at one of the exhibits with a faded red hat with the words 'Make America Grate Aging' "I knew we'd never live it down." he said "You recognize it?" the woman asked. Someday nodded his head yes "that was Donald Trump's mantra. He was America's firs dictator, I don't know why they didn't see it coming." "He Won?" "yeah, it's a shame real. He persecuted a lot of people in his 50 year term, and no one could stop him. it started the W.W.3, America had the whole world out gunned; so the whole world created supper diseases to try and weaken the superpower. In return they unleashed enough nukes to irradiate most of Europe, the Middle East and most of Asia. But the damage was done, America was disease ridden in a year and there was no way to stop it." "We survived epidemics before why not this one?" he asked "Because the United States had put all its funding into the war and a boarder wall leaving them nothing for medical assistance. Central & South America where already full of internal stress and the added external stress is what left them ruined. Canada simply survived due to our medical system and neutrality, once the dust settled we moved into ruins of America. once the radiation settled we did the same." The man was silent, but then let out a laugh of joy "So that how it goes. The blood thirsty, corupt and moronic all blow each other into nuclear shadows and disease ridden corpses leaving the peaceful and polite to live out the storm and make it out of the darkest night" he then took out his time machine and broke it. "no need for a return trip. so can I crash with you tonight? if not I'm just gonna call 911 and breaking my leg." "Why?" "You don't expect me to sleep on a park bench in this weather? a hospital bed is much comfier anyway." the 2 then left the museum talking about things that wehren't important. They didn't even notice as an old man picked up the broken time machine and then walked through a door that wasn't there before and then wasn't there after.
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Deep breaths," I told myself. "You'll only be gone a week." This would be my first trip to Canada as someone who isn't a 10-year-old boy on a road trip with his family. Everything was bigger then. Trees were taller. Leaves were redder. But Mom's hugs were just as tight, and just as long. "I'll call you when I land," I assured her, though it may have been more for my nerves than hers. Cue the waterworks. “I miss you already." My third time flying in an airplane. I pretended I was a pro. A short young woman sat next to me, not much older than me—25, maybe? Her phone case brandished the name Amber. “What brings you to Canada?” I asked, trying to keep as composed as she was. Her dyed-red head shifted towards me. Her eyes never left the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of Hazel. Her open mouth closed with a long exhale. The sentiment looked familiar. "Boy troubles? Girl troubles?" No response. It was easy enough on a flight to want to leave the past behind. Did she know that’s exactly what we were doing? Apparently, somewhere in the clouds over South Dakota, our plane disappeared and reappeared 1008 years later. They’re still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not. It happened. It’s done. All I could do was put a lampshade on it and move on with my life. The Canadian airport had paved a separate runway just for us, in case we ever got back to them. They thought it would be nice. As soon as our plane blinked back into existence and people realized what was happening, Canadian historian Dr. Mercier and collected his notes to catch us up on the world. He thought that would be nice too. I don’t know why I’m calling them Canadian. I suppose everything’s Canadian now, eh? While I would have thought this could only happen in fiction, every nation in the world renamed themselves Canada to avoid being attacked or otherwise threatened with wars. And it worked. Part of the success was due to the peak and reversal of global warming in the 22nd and 23rd centuries, which pushed the commercial capitals of the world away from the equator as well as making the northern climates more habitable. The rest of the success seems to be a literal miracle. I wouldn’t know how. Dr. Mercier would. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I flown anywhere else, as if my destination would have shaped the very things I’m writing about now. Would the same wars have happened? Would I still have met Amber? Would she still be the mother of our beautiful daughter Hazel? P.S. I got your letters, Mom. I miss you too. The trees actually are taller, and the leaves redder. I love you.	Jonathan stepped out of the time machine, smoke billowing from the bottom of the torpedo-shaped contraption. After dusting himself off, he looked up. The world was nothing but a desolate husk of what it used to be. The ground, once green and full of life, now replaced by cold dirt. Smog and smoke filled the air, putting a slight grey tint over everything. After his eyes adjusted, he noticed multiple flags in the distance. All bore a maple leaf, blood red. A lone Mountie emerges from the haze, looking calm and collected. He slowly raised his gun. The barrel was pointed strait at Jonathon's head, and suddenly, he pulled the trigger. The time traveler's cold, lifeless body fell to the ground, blood pooling ay his murderer's boots. The Mountie holstered his pistol, looked down, and muttered one single word before disappearing again into the cold wasteland. "Sorry."
	[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada.	"Deep breaths," I told myself. "You'll only be gone a week." This would be my first trip to Canada as someone who isn't a 10-year-old boy on a road trip with his family. Everything was bigger then. Trees were taller. Leaves were redder. But Mom's hugs were just as tight, and just as long. "I'll call you when I land," I assured her, though it may have been more for my nerves than hers. Cue the waterworks. “I miss you already." My third time flying in an airplane. I pretended I was a pro. A short young woman sat next to me, not much older than me—25, maybe? Her phone case brandished the name Amber. “What brings you to Canada?” I asked, trying to keep as composed as she was. Her dyed-red head shifted towards me. Her eyes never left the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of Hazel. Her open mouth closed with a long exhale. The sentiment looked familiar. "Boy troubles? Girl troubles?" No response. It was easy enough on a flight to want to leave the past behind. Did she know that’s exactly what we were doing? Apparently, somewhere in the clouds over South Dakota, our plane disappeared and reappeared 1008 years later. They’re still trying to figure out what happened. I’m not. It happened. It’s done. All I could do was put a lampshade on it and move on with my life. The Canadian airport had paved a separate runway just for us, in case we ever got back to them. They thought it would be nice. As soon as our plane blinked back into existence and people realized what was happening, Canadian historian Dr. Mercier and collected his notes to catch us up on the world. He thought that would be nice too. I don’t know why I’m calling them Canadian. I suppose everything’s Canadian now, eh? While I would have thought this could only happen in fiction, every nation in the world renamed themselves Canada to avoid being attacked or otherwise threatened with wars. And it worked. Part of the success was due to the peak and reversal of global warming in the 22nd and 23rd centuries, which pushed the commercial capitals of the world away from the equator as well as making the northern climates more habitable. The rest of the success seems to be a literal miracle. I wouldn’t know how. Dr. Mercier would. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I flown anywhere else, as if my destination would have shaped the very things I’m writing about now. Would the same wars have happened? Would I still have met Amber? Would she still be the mother of our beautiful daughter Hazel? P.S. I got your letters, Mom. I miss you too. The trees actually are taller, and the leaves redder. I love you.	North or South. Those were the two choices an impecunious spaceman returning to Earth had to make. The ones who made a fortune mining asteroids could afford a high mountain retreat on one of Earth's more temperate peaks which were still lucky enough to have a glacier nearby...although those spots were out of the reach of anybody who didn't already own a few planets anyways, and were prized as retreats to unplug from the galaxy and meditate on the past thousand years of human folly, and a slow crisis whose origin dates from that time before scientists even knew the shape of the galaxy we were a part of. Living at the equator was out of the question, the average temperature there hovered around 70C. In a cruel trick of nature, if the CO2 wasn't trapping enough heat, occasionally the temperature would get hot enough to boil water and the extra H20 in the atmosphere would trap even more heat...leading to a runaway greenhouse effect. As long as the stratosphere remained a balmy 10C, clouds could still form and deflect the sunlight long enough for the water to cool and condense back as tropical rain, or rush away in a vortex of destruction as a hurricane, flooding some distant desert in the Appalachians or Texas. But even this dynamic balance of water and clouds was a temporary sideshow...Earth had long ceased to have any climate whatsoever since the energy balance had shifted to the high energy equilibrium that scientists had been warning about since the 1970s. Now life was ruled by only factor alone: the sun. Humanity lived in a ring around the North Pole, hunkering down in the summer when the light beat down mercilessly 24hr a day. In winter, as the planet's pole was shaded from the sun and feebly radiated heat back into space...it slowly cooled long enough to bring the temperature down to a balmy 30C. But everybody knew, summer was coming...and nine months of cold were barely enough to balance out 3 months of constant sun and tropical winds from the south.

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