Death Ever After

"I am not a good person. I'm a liar, and a thief, and a murderer. So what am I doing here?"
Tilly Donner is bad. Very bad. In fact, she's about as bad as they come. So when a premature death allows her to enter heaven, surely there is some mistake? Little does she know, what is commonly accepted as 'heaven' is not all its cracked up to be.
*Runner up in the Afterlife competition*

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3. Introductions

For a split second, I am blinded by a vicious, glaring light, bearing down on me as though with a physical force. When it dims, all is white. All is still.

The scene before me is so picture perfect it's almost cliché. My feet have sunk ankle deep into the soft blanket of fluffy white cloud that stretches out as far as the eye can see. To my left is a long, marble table, spread with a gold cloth and groaning under the weight of the hundreds of dishes of delicious looking food it supports. There was a warm sense of summer in the air and - do my ears deceive me? Or do I hear the soft, tinkling sound of harps wafting towards me?

Sheesh, can't they think of anything new?

So anyway, here I am, wandering through soft, fluffy cloud to the banquet table from, quite literally, heaven, thinking; I am not a good person. I'm a liar, and a thief, and a murderer. So what am I doing here?

It doesn't bother me that I have no answer.

I am so caught up in my thoughts that I don't see the man until I'm inches away.

"Oooof!" I grunt, as I knock into him. I take a step backwards, but the man crumples to the floor instantly.

"Oh my goodness!," I cry, "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Excellent, the first person I meet in this bizarre, storybook heaven, and I knock them to the ground.

The man, however, does not seem to mind. He stares up at me with tired, forlorn eyes, the only life in a face that is utterly grey. He refuses my extended hand and clambers wearily to his feet.

"Worry not", he says, in a voice as tired and grey as the rest of him. "It happens many a time. One gets used to it after fifteen hundred years."

"Fifteen hundred years? I- I- wow. Just - wow." I stutter. 1500 years? Sheesh. Imagine living for 1500 years? Well, the living dead.

Then again, I suppose there are worst places to spend eternity. Aren't there?

"Well," he smiles an unhappy smile that doesn't reach his eyes, "One makes the assumption that we shall meet again. I bid you goodday, or as good as it can get, here of all places."

What does he mean by that?

"Wait", I call to his retreating figure. "What do you mean? This is heaven, right? So surely every day is perfect, right?"

"My point exactly", he replies inexplicably. "Goodday".

And then he is gone, and I am left alone in a sea of white clouds, with the tinkle of harps in my ears.

 

 

 

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