Chapter One

“Hell, says you. Heaven, says I.”

So just before you need to know this, it’s really hard to get up to heaven. And not like how you would think, either! It’s some seriously massive stair climbing! Good thing I had my Ipod though. Oh, that’s another thing you should bear in mind. You die with what you have on the exact moment your heart stops. I was smart to dress fashionably for my passing away. I mean, I didn’t want anybody to find my body in unsightly clothing like corduroy or cable knit sweaters or anything. That would just be embarrassing.

But I had combat boots on-because you don’t go tromping around in the forest without them--washed-to-the-point-of-fading jeans, my light green polo with the gold lettering on the back that said ‘Royal Couture’ and my knit grey Rugby Hat. Don’t ask why I had that on of all things, but I must protest in my defence that it had been quite chilly out in the forest.

And of course, I had my Ipod. And I guess that it was pretty inappropriate for me to be listening to MorningWood while on my way up this giant case of white marble stairs, but no one had told me that I was going to heaven when I had woken up! I just assumed that since I was in front of a giant case of stairs that I should climb them. Unfortunately for me, I had thought they would have ended the first hour or so while I was traipsing up there.

I must have thought it was curious that I was the only one on the entire staircase because after an hour or so, there was a slight flat area on the stairs with a bench. Who, however, happened to be sitting on the bench made me burst out in laughter when I saw him though. I promise you, when you make your own ascent up these stairs, you won’t be able to help laughing either.

There was a handsome, older looking man sitting on that bench. In a robe. A white robe, might I add. And the most hilarious thing of all was that he had wings. I had to laugh! It’s not everyday you see people like him! I mean, unless of course you live in the downtown district where they have those insane parties…

The man in white stood up from the bench, as if all my laughter was inferior to him. He didn’t smile, but he wasn’t frowning either. It was more like a calm, sedated look. Suddenly his lips started moving, slowly and silently. I stared at them until I realized that sound was coming from them now.

“Loly Fulham?” He asked. His accent…well, there was no accent. It almost sounded like an American accent. Thinking of American things brought my mind to the fact that I had not been to New York, unfortunately. And now, I would not have that chance. But maybe, I thought, once I am truly dead, whoever creates us will let us spy on wherever we had wished to go.

As I daydreamed about how much I could get away with up here, the man in the robe waved his right hand over my face twice. That brought me back, but it sent shivers through my spine. Good thing I had my cap on.

I took out my earphones to hear him better as he said my name again. But this time when he said it, it almost sounded unfamiliar. As if I had never heard of it. Odd, I decided as I nodded my head.

“Yea, that’s me.” I replied as I shoved my Ipod in my back jean pocket.

“We have been waiting for you Loly” He said as calmly and serenely as lake water. It was sort of unnerving. So I made light of the subject.

“Yea? Well, I got here as early as possible.” I laughed at my own joke, but mister angel man just continued with his tranquil look. I shut up immediately.

“Continue up these stairs, Loly,” Mister Angel said courteously, “you shall reach the top in only a matter of minutes. Peter has been waiting for you. Many,” He added, “have been waiting for you.”

That slapped any smart thoughts out of my head that I had been planning on discussing with Mister Angel, but the idea of seeing ‘Peter’ just plain put me into a stupor.

Mister Angel started to walk away from the bench and into the blue sky enshrouded with white, misty clouds while I tried to grasp this concept.

“Wait!” I called to this mysterious man as I ran from the staircase and out into the sky. This of course would have scared me witless at any other time, but I had already tried this down at the bottom of the staircase. I had only been up a few stories and had strayed a bit off the stairs because I had been looking at how far off the ground I was and would have screamed, but I found I was still walking up stairs. The stairs, I had decided early on, were the path. Just as long as I knew where the path was, I would eventually make it all the way up.

Anyway, I called for Mister Angel and he turned around, expectant of a question. I stopped just shy of him, and, looking around to make sure no one would think of me as a prat for chatting up Mister Angel’s time, struggled to understand this odd concept.

“Um,” I began, mumbling, “By Peter you mean…the Peter? St. Peter?” I asked. Mister Angel nodded his head.

“Of course. Peter guards the gate. But you know this, I know, because you went to Mass.”

“Yes, yes,” I said hurriedly, “I attend Mass every Sunday.” I tried to swallow the uncomfortable feeling I was getting. “You mean I am going to actually come face to face with P-Peter? Saint! I mean, St. Peter!” Mister Angel nodded again.

“Yes. Does this bother you?” I honestly tried to nod my head and tough it out, but I found myself wincing.

“Well…” I began, “It’s just that…you know, he’s in such a higher power than me. He won’t-He wouldn’t smite me, would he?” Mister Angel almost gaped at me. But his face just stayed the same.

“Heaven’s no!” He replied. “No, Peter is a kind spirit. However, if you are uncomfortable with meeting with him, you may come with me and we will figure out an alternative way to the gates.” He seemed to like that idea-and so did I-but then all of a sudden he was shaking his head, a slight frown on his brow.

“But…Pete particularly requested that he meet with you.” He shook his head again. “I am terribly sorry, but you must specifically see him. Please continue up the stairs.” Mister Angel turned away from me again, but I was desperate to have company up there.

“Um, hold on!” I wailed, trying to think up something important to discuss.

“Yes?” Mister Angel patiently waited.

“Well, how will I know if it’s him?” I said lamely.

Mister Angel, for the first time, cracked a slight smile.

“You will just know.” He responded before turning and subtly disappearing in the cloudy mist. A foul mood took me over as I tromped back to the bench and stairs. I plunked myself down on that bench and sat there for a while, purposely making St. Peter wait moments longer.

But after a while I got the distinct feeling that Peter did not care how long I made him wait. And I also knew that eventually I would have to climb those stairs or risk my neck trying to go back down. That just seemed like an accident waiting to happen, so I put my earphones back in, turned it up to ‘Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights’ and started back up the stairs.

You know, for as long as I had been climbing, I wasn’t tired. I hadn’t a drop of sweat on me and I wasn’t even hot. Normally I would have just died trying pull myself up the rope in gym class. I decided that being dead gave you an advantage in the athletic category.

The only downside to be dead, of course, was that you wouldn’t get to download any of the coolest, newest songs into your Ipod. Thank god I loved all the songs in mine.

I was boppin’ to ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ when I realized that I had reached the end of the steps. Well, I couldn’t help it when I saw it. I had to switch my song to ‘Bittersweet Symphony’, if only for the cool background.

The gates to heaven…oh my goodness, they are so gorgeously indescribable. All I can say really is that the actual gate was so shiny…so…glowing. It was unnaturally pure. Nothing on earth is like it. It must have been pure, pure, totally unmistakably, gold.

And once I went up my last step in the stairs, it felt like I was walking on clouds. Well, now I literally was. Pure white clouds. They led to the blindingly glowing gate.

Not thinking so clearly, I headed right for the gate. I thought I could just walk in and everything was okay. Although, I did have a few questions. Like, why did I get sent to Heaven when committing suicide was supposed to send you to hell? And another good question was, even if I hadn’t committed suicide, what had I done that was so good that had gotten me into heaven?

But you know, things have a way of working out themselves. I was just about to permanently blind myself when somebody spoke my name.

“Loly Fulham.” I cringed and automatically went to turn off my Ipod, but it turned off by itself. Hmm, maybe Mac knew how to be polite to Holy beings, too. I slowly turned around and found myself facing someone who looked like they should have been around in Jesus’ time. He had on one of those shepherd hats and he wielded the crook cane in his left hand. He had on leather sandals and, of course, a robe, only his was black. If it wasn’t creepy that he had the black robe, then I didn’t know what was.

I assumed this was St. Peter. He looked pretty powerful, what with the cane and all, but the glow he had around him was even more frightening.

“You uh…you must be…Saint Peter.” I whispered quietly. Don’t ask me why on earth I said that. I mean, normally I wouldn’t have uttered a word. But I felt like I had to somehow make this seem easier for myself by at least looking like an idiot. Because, you know, if you act like an idiot, people will treat you like an idiot and they won’t make you do hard things.

I know this from experience.

Anyway, St. Peter nodded his head and practically beamed at me. Personally, I thought this was all a bit overwhelming. Did they plan on taunting me with heaven or something because I killed myself? What, were they gonna put heaven right in front of my face and then rip it away and throw me down to hell? Jeez, I didn’t even really care where I went! I had been okay with wherever I had been when I was alive, so why wouldn’t I just adapt to wherever they were sending me? It wasn’t like they could make me cry. Ok, well, maybe they could, but that’s not my point!

“Loly Fulham,” St. Peter began, knocking me out of my thoughts. “By no means should someone such as yourself be here.” He looked at me, as if waiting for an arrogant response. I kept my mouth clamped shut, simply because I didn’t want to look like that big of an idiot. But I did of course think, well duh mister, you didn’t think I already knew that? He continued when he realized I wouldn’t be saying anything vulgar. At least not to someone with so much power.

“Like others, you wonder why you have come up here. Especially after you committed such a heinous sin.”

Heinous? Well, I’m sorry, but I was dead! I thought St. Peter saying heinous was hilarious!

“But for those who did not lead a life of sin until their last breath, we have a few…options. These alternative ways will make room for forgiveness in your ultimate sin. You will be permitted into Heaven if you choose to use these options.”

Well, I was dead already. And it wasn’t like I had been expecting to go to heaven. I mean, I had completely planned on going to hell, just because Church had taught me a few things-breathe one wrong breath and you go to hell. I’m not saying I didn’t try to be good though. Oh, I really did. But I really didn’t expect on prancing about in the clouds!

“Oh, well, thanks for the offer, but I’m really okay with wherever.” I said as politely and carefully as I could. I bet he didn’t have people telling him they could care less if they went to heaven every day. “I’m ready to go down. It can’t be all that bad.” I told him. “I mean, all you have to do in any situation is to look at the positive.” I stopped for a second, wondering about purgatory. “Oh yea, that reminds me. Will I be going to purgatory first? Or am I just on a straight ride down? Cos I mean, I’ve heard quite a few things about purgatory and it doesn’t sound as bad as most people make it.”

St. Peter looked at me curiously for a moment before crossing his arms and smirking.

“Pertinent little thing, aren’t you?” I started to say something to that, but then shut my mouth like a gasping fish. What had I said again?

“Pertinent?” I asked, completely confused. “Oh no, I meant no disrespect, your…honour! Your honour, I mean! No, I just meant, I don’t mind wherever you guys will send me!”

“Really?” St. Peter asked, clearly not believing me.

“Really!” I insisted. “Honestly and completely, it’s all okay with me!” We stood there, staring at each other; me trying to be insistent and him not believing me at all. Finally he just uncrossed his arms and went over to-I guess-his desk that I had not noticed before. It was a really nice desk. Probably made of some type of expensive stone, too. But just to ruin the whole look-at-me-and-my-gorgeous-desk effect, he opened up one of those cheap file holders on the surface.

He held up a photo of-who else?-me and waved it around a bit. I recognized it as that one funny photograph of me when I had been born that my mum had meticulously held onto for so long.

“No, you care.” St. Peter said, sounding all important. “If you did not, you would not have been born. Humans are born with the ability to choose their life paths, and if you are good, your mind will automatically choose for you that you want to go to heaven. If you are bad, well, it is the opposite. So while you may think you would not mind, you really do care. Things happen that you will see that would make you want to go to heaven so badly if you went to hell.” Again he waggled the photograph around.

“This is a photo of you when you were born. If you look close enough, you will see the glow around you.”

“The glow.” I repeated, unconvinced. I stepped closer to get a better look and squinted at the picture. Personally I saw nothing like a glow around me, so I just nodded my head and pretended like I had.

“Oh, I see it.” I told him as I nodded my head. Believe me; it didn’t occur to me that I was lying to a higher being at the moment. “And I’m glowing because…?” St. Peter nodded his head slowly.

“Never mind that you do not see it. But the idea is this. The glow was there because we knew exactly when you would die, and we knew exactly how. Humans who commit suicide have a particular glow about them. They usually are not ones to make a fuss about anything, and they usually do not mind having to do much of anything. Like you said, they adjust.” I took that in, thinking about it for a moment.

“Hold on, what if I pulled the wool over your eyes and didn’t die when you expected it?” St. Peter merely shrugged at me.

“It does not matter. Even if you did not die, we would know right after the fact when you would for real.”

“Oh.” I replied. Clearly, these people up in heaven weren’t much for the guessing game. “Okay, go on then.”

“Knowing that you would kill yourself gives us an advantage. We can try to make options for the good or the bad when they die.” He went on to explain about how they were trying to help us get into heaven, but by then I was hardly listening. I had a new thought.

“Wait a minute.” I said, interrupting him in what he thought was an important part of his explanation. “If you know we’re going to kill ourselves, then why do you allow it? If you were really trying to help you would make sure we would not kill ourselves.” St. Peter thought about this for a moment. He was probably trying to make up an explanation that would make a girl like me be quiet.

“Well, if we did not allow it, there would be no such thing as free will. As a human, you are allowed to do as you please. We can only try to steer you in the right direction.”

“Thanks…” I grumbled sarcastically as I leaned against his desk. “So no matter what, you couldn’t have made my life better? You couldn’t have just made me happier and made me want to live?” St. Peter sighed, indirectly making me feel like I wasn’t worth the time to explain anything.

“That, as I have already said, we cannot do. It would be taking your free will away. Besides, who said your life would have been dramatically better if you had not died?”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t care where I go!” I exclaimed, pointing at him, as if that would help me get my point across. “Did it matter that I was good? Nope! Did it matter that I really deserved to find a nice, decent looking boy to go out with? Um, not by all your guy’s standards! Nope, nothing that I cared about would have changed anyways! So why on earth would I care about where I went after I died? It’s not like my feelings for anybody else’s was mutual, so it’s not like they’re gonna count on seeing me in heaven!”

There was a pause while I waited for his response. I folded my arms and grudgingly awaited for him to correct me, because that’s what people like him liked to do. They liked to have you give them an answer, and then they would correct you.

“Your mother does.” St. Peter said good-naturedly. “Her path is for the heavens. She knows deep down in her heart that you are in heaven.”

“My mum!” I balked. “All my mum ever did was tell me to pick up my room, which, by the way, I did! For all I know, she probably thought I was a scoundrel! She always said my friends were no good and such for me!”

“But she loved you.” St. Peter said.

“Yes, yes,” I replied, “and I loved her as well, but I highly doubt she really expects me to be up here right now.” I went to look at my wrist for my wristwatch, but found it wasn’t there. So instead I looked at St. Peter. “Do you have the time?”

“It is just past midnight.” He said. I nodded my thanks.

“See, I only left for the forest at about 8! She probably thinks I’m just at a party or something, drinking until I pass out!”

“But would she have not found your body by now?” He prodded. I started to say ‘no, that’s just crazy’, but something stopped me. Instead I lowered my gaze from his face and looked at the expensive looking desk.

“No…” I said softly. “Fat chance anyone will discover my corpse. At least for a few days. They wouldn’t think of…the um, the forest until some nark didn’t show up with me in their mitts. That may take a while.” I glanced up at St. Peter, who seemed to be studying me with a slight frown on his face.

“Tell me,” He began, “exactly how you kicked the bucket. Where you were, why you chose to be there, everything.” I almost laughed at the idea of St. Peter saying ‘kicked the bucket’, but I guess people up in heaven learn some slang too.

“Um, well,” I started. “I haven’t really decided on how my story should go just yet.” We both knew I was stalling for time, and he pointed that out.

“No need to invent a better story of your death. I want to know everything you recollect doing up until your very last breath.”

“Okay, but I remember exactly what happened after my last breath.” I explained.

“Well, just tell me everything up until after your last breath then, I guess.” He said.

“Okay…” I said, sighing. This was going to sound so, incredibly, irritatingly, stupid. Everyone else besides the people who actually committed suicide thought suicide was stupid; that our reasons weren’t good enough to kill ourselves over. I assumed this was exactly how Peter was going to take it, because obviously he hadn’t killed himself. He was a golden boy compared to, I don’t know, the Father at church.

“Well, this morning—“

“What day, exactly, was this?” Peter interrupted. I had to think about it, but I managed to get a date.

“Oh, um…November 3rd.” I replied. “Anyway, I woke up around 9 cos it was a Saturday morning and you guys obviously already know I don’t like getting up early unless I absolutely have to. Oh, and when it was my birthday.”

“Point is, I got up, went into the kitchen and read the note my mum had written, saying she would be out shopping today, and possibly having tea with her old college friends un the afternoon. I thought, well that’s just great, and went about my way doing the cleaning she had instructed for me to do that day.”

“That’s when I happened upon this liquid rat poison in the little storage room under the stairs. I looked at it and laughed cos I thought, well now I know where the poison is if I ever kill myself. To be honest, I didn’t think of actually killing myself until well after Trey called.”

“Who is Trey?” Peter asked. I rolled my eyes to him.

“If you guys’ keep such a good watch over us, how come you don’t even know who my ex-boyfriend is?” I retorted.

“Trey was your friend then. All right, continue.” Peter said. I crossed my arms again and sat down in this really nice velour chair that had conveniently appeared behind me a few moments ago.

“Okay, well, Trey called me around noon, and asked if Trish and I would like to head into London today and shop around. London, if you didn’t know, is like, the town to be in. Plus it’s only a 45 minute drive, and Trey had only gotten his car about a month ago. I know, he has no license, but he’s honestly a good driver. His parent’s have been letting him drive since he was twelve.”

“Now, normally I would have jumped at a chance like this cos, of course, it was with a boy! Boys hadn’t really called me until Trey was my boyfriend. And even then, he had been the only one to call. And I would have really liked to go shopping, but I remembered I was sort of broke from the last time Trish and I had gone shopping. And I really didn’t want to go anywhere with Trey, either. Even if I hadn’t really cared all that much about him being my boyfriend and all, it felt awkward to me to be going somewhere with him after he had broken up with me.”

“So I told him, I’m sorry, I can’t go, you know, being very polite. But he just blew up at me! He said, ‘but Trish is going! Why won’t you go? Loly, I just want to be friends with you! Why can’t you just hang out with me? Honestly, I have done nothing to be hurt so badly by you!’ Well, I thought this was really funny, because he thought he had been hurt pretty badly by me! So I told him that I had been hurt more by him. That when he broke up with me, he made me slide all the way down from where I had been! He said ‘that’s no legitimate reason’ but I just laughed at that, said goodbye and hung up.”

“Then I went about with my cleaning and my dad came home and said we needed to start fixing supper, or rather, I should start supper while he puttered about in our garden. I obliged cos I really had nothing else to do that day, and started making something…ham, I think. Ham and mashed potatoes cos I always make that when I cook. I like it, and so does everybody else.”

“My mum came home, and for once she took one look at what I had made and said it wasn’t healthy, and that she would have to make dinner now. That didn’t necessarily piss me off, but it irritated me that what I loved to cook wasn’t good enough for her. So I said fine, go ahead, and we ended up having a salad around 7. My dad grumbled the whole time about how ham and mashed potatoes looked so much better for a cold night in November, but my mum just said we all needed to lose weight anyway.”

“Then she proceeded to explain that instead of having to make dinner anymore, all I had to do was make a fairly large salad every night. I think my dad thought this a bit unfair on his part, seeing how he participates in some old guys’ version of a Rugby team. So they got into this fairly heated argument about who was healthy in this family, and I eventually just went and cleared plates.”

“Well, I went upstairs into my room and listened to them argue, and then a great realization came over me. Nothing, not even life, was worth having to listen to your parent’s argue about whether you were healthy or not. And nothing was worth having your ex boyfriend practically call you a bitch on the phone. That got me to thinking about how horrible my life had been all this time.”

“I knew I’d been depressed since at least September. And it came to me at some point that nothing in my life had been very fulfilling, nor would it ever. I mean, I had waited 16 bloody years for something fulfilling and good to happen, and it had not happened yet! I was tired of it.”

“I’m a very emotional person so of course I started to cry, you know, now that I knew I was basically worthless. I decided I had put up with enough, you know? With being so paranoid about other people, with knowing that people just didn’t plain like you in their stores? It really got to me. So I remember about the rat poisoning and thought about where I would go. I decided on the forest a few blocks away from our house and on the outskirts of town, because even when people hike there, they don’t look up very often.”

“I put on some nicer clothes than the stuff I had been wearing while cleaning and went downstairs, told my mum and dad I was going on a walk. They said, yea, all right, be back at a decent hour, and I said okay. Then I acted like I was getting a water bottle and dumped about two thirds of it out. I poured cold tea into it and then went to the storage closet and poured a few ounces of it into the bottle. I kind of stuck my finger in there and tasted it to make sure I couldn’t taste the rat poisoning, which I couldn’t, and then rinsed my mouth out immediately after I spit it out.”

“So I headed over to the forest with the bottle in hand and headed deep into the forest. I found a decent looking tree and climbed it until I was almost as the top. I settled myself down on a fairly large branch. I shook up the liquid in the bottle and downed that. And then I waited. It really didn’t have any affects for about an hour. I was just about to head back home, but then my limbs went numb so I pretty much just laid down on my stomach to make sure I wouldn’t fall and…well, fell asleep. I remember though, that I was still awake after I died. I remember closing my eyes, but I still looked around and thought everything looked kind of funny.”

“And then I just woke up like, a few seconds later I think and found a staircase in front of me. I was higher up than when I had died, but I could still see my body. I thought, well gee, that’s odd. But then I looked at the staircase and started to climb it.”

Yeah, I thought it sounded stupid to kill myself after I explained it. But you know, it made perfect sense while I had been doing it. I had nothing to live for that I knew of, no one was paying me proper attention, and it wasn’t like I was going to be the next Nobel Peace Prize winner. And it wasn’t like they had felt what I had felt. All those months of being so depressed, paranoid, scared…it made me feel worthless. Like no matter how good I was or whatever, I would never find a decent guy, never have the really perfect life I would have liked. There were always going to be these obstacles that, for me, would absolutely frighten me witless for no apparent reason.

And you know, I really didn’t care though. Care that I was dead, I mean. Oddly enough, I wasn’t missing anybody back on earth. I wasn’t really thinking anything about them. What I was thinking was that Peter probably thought I was an insane character by now. But that was okay because now he would leave me alone and send me to wherever I needed to go.

St. Peter looked at me for a moment before standing up from his chair with a slight smile on his face.

“My dearest child.” He said wittily. “You will be forgiven for your wrongs.”

“But you just said I committed the sin of all sins!” I sputtered. “How on earth can that be forgiven!? You can’t just tell people they were really wicked and then say, oh, but we’ll pardon you! It’s not fair! Hell, it’s not even right! It’s like teasing someone with a prize!” St. Peter just shook his head, acting all bright.

“You do not understand.” He explained. “Up until you passed away, you had been an honest human being. People like you can be forgiven. And whether you like it or not, you have to try to prove your worth for heaven. That is the choice you will be assigned.”

“God!” I exclaimed bitterly. Had he not just heard a word I had said? Honestly, you would think that he, being such a holy and understanding person, would have understood my wishes and let me go wherever I deserved to go, and in my opinion, it was hell! I tried to keep my cool by pausing for a moment after my little outburst. Then I put my hands down on his desk and looked at him.

“Okay, listen…Pete.” I said irritably. “I don’t want an option. You must have kept some watch over me to know that one of my favourite slogans is ‘don’t give me choices cos I can’t decide’! I don’t want a choice, or an option. All I want is to go somewhere right now and never have to go back. That’s it. Fino! Got it? So throw me down to hell right now or else I’m gonna have a truly miserable time with whatever this option is!”

St. Peter looked at me, amused, for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve already assigned you the perfect option.”

“I just told you though!” I wailed. “I don’t want any other option than hell! I’m seriously perfectly, honestly okay with hell!”

“No,” He replied, “It has been decided. It had been decided before you were even here. You are good. You may not be permitted into hell without a sin. If you cannot complete your alternate option, you may go to hell.”

Easy, I thought. I just won’t try then. So I nodded my head.

“All right.” I said grudgingly. “I’ll do whatever else you had in mind. But I can tell you right now, I won’t try all that hard, cos I really don’t care.” St. Peter kept the ridiculous smile slapped across his face.

“As you wish. But my dearest child, you will come to care. Even if you really did not care now, you will come to understand this horrible fate set you set upon yourself, and you will desire to be redeemed.” I waved a hand at him. This wasn’t important to me. I planned on moping about, pretending like I should actually be doing something, and then come back up here, say I couldn’t do it and get sent to hell. It’s all I wanted! Honestly!

“Whatever you say.” I replied. “Now, what do I get to do then?” St. Peter handed me an elegant looking sheet of paper from my file with a list printed on it.

It had 5 names on it. Warren Gomez, Jodie Slade, Mathew Kustos, Abigail Cunningham and Jon Chaplin. I studied the names for a moment before looking back up at St. Peter.

“All right,” I said, “So…are they bad or something? You want me to go back down there and, I don’t know, right their wrongs?”

“When you meet them you will know how to help them.” He replied mystically. That really irked me cos now I was off on some mission that I had absolutely no idea how to accomplish.

“Oh, ok!” I said, sarcastically cheerful. “Well, thanks for the great, ingenuous plan to get me into heaven!” I waved at him as I stuffed my list into my back pocket and headed back for the stairs. “I take it I can get back down the same way I came? Oh, and I just can’t imagine how many people in hell are mad at me cos I get a chance and they don’t! They probably deserved to go up here more than me, too!”

St. Peter basically laughed at my exclamations. “Do not worry about the stairs. Just fall from the area with the bench and you will go straight to where you need to be.”

“Great!” I called back to him as I tromped down the first set of stairs. “And while I’m at it, I’ll make sure I fall flat on my face! Thanks for so much helpful information Pete! Really, it’s been great getting to know ya!”

I turned around to make sure he had been listening-and possibly to go back up there and beg for him to just let me go to hell-but found there were no more stairs behind me. In fact, when I took a few cautious steps down and kept my eyes behind me, I discovered that the stairs disappeared after I used them.

Could things get any creepier? I mean, really!

But indeed they did. Because a few minutes later I found myself listening to Keane and stepping off the bench platform. And just as St. Pete had said, I fell. Pretty damn fast too. I was almost worried about actually hurting myself until I actually hit the ground. Pavement, I mean. Actually, it was the roof of a building, but it felt like pavement.

And of course I landed smack on my face. But amazingly it didn’t hurt. I assumed this was because I was dead. I rolled over onto my back and checked for a heartbeat.

Nope, no heartbeat. It felt strangely hollow inside my chest. That must have been the only thing I missed-my comforting heartbeat. I sighed and looked up at the sky.

And realized that I was not anywhere familiar. Oh no, it was so much more odder than where I would have ever travelled. You could see the stars in the sky. Hell, you could see the Milky Way!

I instantly sat up to see if maybe I could get a clue as to where I was. Well, I could see a beach, if that helped. I gazed about, trying to make my eyes focus in the darkness-I guessed it was still night-quicker than what they would have if I was still alive.

That’s when I saw the sign. The sign right by me that posted exactly what building I was on. I happened to be sitting on the roof of the ‘famous’ South Beach Hotel, located in ‘Sunny Southern Florida’.

Let me tell you one thing right now.

I happened to know that bad things happened down in ‘Sunny Southern Florida’. Bad, bad things. The fact that I had been sent here alone sent shivers down my spine.