Page 8 of An Unexpected Ascension
My eyes bug out.Heaven is expensive!
“No point in lingering here then,” I grumble. “Can you take me to my new house?”
He nods. “Just through the market and past Saint’s Rowe.”
We traipse through the center of the market, avoiding bumping into any of the other angels. As we pass through, a variety of different stands snag my interest. Besides the array of fresh produce, there’s handmade apparel, jewelry, books, even art supplies. The array of different colored fabric flashes brightly, contrasting largely with my dark attire, seemingly the only thing dark in Heaven. Gems glitter in the sun, refracting an array of light, creating little rainbows on nearby surfaces. My gaze lingers on the market goers trying on bracelets, holding up dresses or smocks, considering pastel chalks versus watercolor paints.
At all the commotion, my heart thumps beneath my sternum. Byinstinct, my hand presses to my chest, and for a moment, I doubt that this is anything but a dream.
“It... it still happens. Your heart beating, your lungs breathing. They’re a muscle just like the rest of your body. They’ll continue to move, but don’t mistake it for anything but reflex,” Will explains.
“I hate it.”
His shoulders sag the tiniest bit. I feel like a rain cloud darkening Heaven’s sky, tarnishing every good thing in sight.
“You’ll get used to it.”
We turn a corner, the stands lining this street offering a variety of sweet concoctions. Chocolates, tarts, pies, and candy. The smell alone renders me dizzy. Although, it’s not the mouthwatering treats that capture my attention, but the sign that sits large and looming at the edge of the market.
Thou shall not hate.
Thou shall not curse.
Thou shall respect thy neighbor.
Thou shall not commit adultery.
Thou shall not speak of fear or morbidity.
Thou...
And so on.
“Lot of rules around here,” I mutter, thinking about the book that weighed more than an overweight baby.
“Yeah, it helps keep everyone civil and reminds us of what good is, you know?”
“Sure.”
As the market fades behind us, we come upon a block of lavish Victorian mansions, each with wraparound porches and balconies outside every upstairs bedroom. Their windows glow with golden light, forever staged in a show of grandeur.
“Saint’s Rowe,” he explains.
“Yep, that checks out.”
The blocks of mansions seem endless as we cross what feels likethe hundredth street. In real life, it would have taken forever to pass through Saint’s Rowe, but it seems that time isn’t a construct that anyone worries about in Heaven.
Finally, we hit the more modest homes. Quaint, like the little town we started in. All painted in light, pale colors with white picket fences. I’ve never owned my own house while I was alive. My entire adulthood was either spent in my mother’s home or in a shared apartment.
The idea of having something so cute and small for myself definitely might make all this bearable.
“Which one is mine?”
He shoots me an amused expression. “You’re pretty funny.”
“I take it none of these then.” I sigh, knowing it was too good to be true, even in Heaven.
“No, definitely not. These houses are for the folk that have completed their penance. We’re about five thousand blocks from your place.”
