Page 3 of An Unexpected Ascension
A middle-aged woman stands in a powder blue power suit that matches her eyes, and her blonde hair is coifed high into a tight bun. Her smile, framed by flawless teeth, makes her seem like a piece of living art.
A part of me wants to reach out to touch her, to see if she’s real, but I’ve hit my strange quota for the day. Instead, I smile back at her.
“Welcome, Briar. We’ve been expecting you.” Her cheeks remain firmly dimpled with her stretched grin that hasn’t budged.
“How do you know my name? Who’s we? Where am I?” I question, looking around the ginormous empty building.
“You’ve reached the gates of Heaven. I’m Magdelena, Senior Secretary.”
So, the stranger wasn’t joking...
Out of thin air a chair appears behind me and of its own accord, squeals along the floor, hitting the back of my knees to nudge me into sitting.
“What the he?—”
“Not Hell, Briar. Heaven,” the woman corrects again, then gestures for me to take a seat as she does the same with another chair that’s appeared behind her.
This has to be a dream. One of the weirdest I’ve ever had.
“Sooooo, I’m dead?”
“Yes.”
“Well, at least I made it into Heaven,” I mutter.
“You made it to the gate. There are still a few more things to do before you are accepted.”
I startle as a computer pops up on her desk and she begins to type away as if this is an average thing that happens all the time.
“Do I have to make an appointment with God or something?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and the corner of her lips twitch just the slightest.
“No. God is too busy to greet every single person that makes it to the gate. I’ll be asking you a few questions and your answers will determine your penance and length of time to pay it off to stay in Heaven for the rest of your existence.”
“Well shit, I make it to the gates of Heaven, and I don’t even get to meet God.” I scoff.
“I’ll warn you now, cursing isn’t tolerated in Heaven. Here we appreciate a utopian atmosphere and words like Hell and S-H-I-T make the others uncomfortable. You wouldn’t want to be uncomfortable in your afterlife, would you?”
I pinch my lips from spewing out words I can’t take back, especially now that I’m about to get judged for my time alive. Instead, I just shake my head and let her continue.
“Great.” She flashes her abnormally perfect teeth. “We’ll start with the basics – full name, birthdate, parents, religious affiliation.”
“Uh, Briar Wren Fenton. Born on March 13, 1997. Mother is Gyllian Sanderson, and father is Bryan Fenton. I guess we’re religious. We went to church and shi—stuff. Prayed. The whole nine yards.” I shrug.
“Which God did you pray to?” she asks, while glasses that weren’t on her face before now slide down her nose.
“I don’t know. THE God, I guess. Is there more than one God?”
“Yes. Depending on which God you worshiped while you were alive is the God that you will know in the afterlife.”
“Jesus, then. He’s technically God, right?”
“In your terms, yes. I’ll add him to your file.”
I’m not even sure what that means,in my terms. What other terms are there? How many Gods exist? After a few clicks of her mouse, she moves on to the next part of the test.
“Describe your devotion to your God while you were alive.”
