Transcripts from the Other Side Read online



  Part 1 in The Other Side series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Transcripts from the Other Side

  Copyright © David Kutai Weiss 2013

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  “There was a light at the end of the tunnel. And it was a flamethrower.”

  -Terry Pratchett, Mort

  Chapter 1

  This is it, Bill thought. After his service on the Earthly sphere, Bill knew that it was his time to go to Heaven. It would have been nice to see the Super Bowl tomorrow, but…He peered longingly through the dark tunnel. The light on the other side glittered brightly, beckoning him onward like a moth to the flame. With a face-swallowing grin that would put Mr. Potato Head to shame, Bill floated upward through the tunnel, waiting peacefully for God’s embrace to carry him through the void.

  Bill had been a man of virtue for his entire life. He loved his family, and they often loved him back. He worked hard at the Factory, and made a point to put canned soup in the grocery store’s charity bin whenever he could remember. He’d stolen from a restaurant once in his life when he was twelve, confessed immediately, and spent the afternoon scrubbing dishes by his own volition. Once, Bill lied in a dream, though at the time he referred to it as a nightmare. In short, minus his fast food habit and penchant for celebrity gossip magazines, Bill was a model citizen. And it’s all paid off. Bill could hardly contain his excitement. Soon, he would be in Heaven. It was real all along. Even after all those people doubted. Soon, he would be reunited with his mother, father, and uncle. Bill had led a good life, but now it was his turn to enter the other side.

  The tunnel entrance was upon him now, the radiant light nearly blinding him. Bill shut his eyes and felt the warmth, the pure love. With a power not his own, he floated downwards and felt himself standing on a soft surface. Can it be true? Is Heaven really in the clouds? Bill opened his eyes slowly as they adjusted to the light. He looked down to see that he was not standing amongst the clouds, but on grass; specifically Agrostis palustris, or ordinary yard grass. Bill contained his disappointment with a shrug; the true Heaven is just ahead. Bill looked around for the angel who would judge him; the angel who would see his name written in God’s hand, and invite him into the gates of Heaven. Where is he? Bill’s gaze fell on the only thing in sight: An old wiry looking man sitting at a desk. He had a droopy nose and his ruffled wings were folded messily behind him. His robes were an off-white color. An angel. I thought they’d look…different. No matter.

  Bill stepped up to the angel hunched over the desk.

  “Ahem,” coughed Bill. The angel made a nearly imperceptible movement to peer up from his scroll.

  “Yes?” hissed the angel with a hint of irritation.

  Bill was taken aback, “I’m here to enter the gates of Heav—”

  “Well go in then, go in, there’s no line,” the angel said hurriedly as he tilted his chin back down to the scroll, his drooping nose nearly touching the parchment.

  “Don’t you need to see if my name is written?” challenged Bill.

  “It is. I already checked,” crackled the angel without looking up.

  “Oh,” said Bill. Who am I to challenge an angel?

  “Do you get cable up here? I’m really interested in tomorrow’s game. It’s the Super Bowl and I…” Bill trailed off.

  The angel inspected Bill with a puckered brow over the top of his wire-rim glasses. With a slight frown, Bill strolled away from the desk, towards the gates of Heaven. His breath caught in his throat, his discomfort forgotten. Before him was the most magnificent gate he had ever seen, sparkling gold and silver, carved full of naked flying babies. Just as Bill had always imagined it. In awe, he gazed upon the glorious gates of Heaven. But there was something under the gate.

  Not something. Someone. That is a real angel. The angel was tall with a straight back and clad in the noblest of white robes. Large feathered wings adorned his back and a bright golden halo crowned his thick curls. Bill didn’t need to look twice. This is what I was waiting for. This is what I will become. Then he saw that the angel was holding a sign. Bill squinted his eyes to make out the words:

  Bill

  Curious, he walked over to the angel. “Hello Sir Angel, I’m Bill,” said Bill, “I’ve come at last to the mighty land of The Lord, to the life that was promised to those who served and obeyed, the—”

  “Aye, yer in the right place,” the angel interrupted, “Please t’meet you, the name’s Sisyphus. Let’s get ye settled in now.”

  “A pleasure to meet you Sis—wait, you’re The Sisyphus?” said Bill aghast.

  “Who’s askin’?,” the angel said slowly as he eyed Bill suspiciously.

  “Well that can’t be right,” said Bill as he scrutinized the angel carefully, his nose only inches from the angel’s white sleeve. “I mean, no offense or anything, but according to Greek mythology, Sisyphus was condemned to Hades, forced to roll a boulder up a hill every day only to watch it fall back down every time,” Bill clucked.

  Sisyphus shifted on his feet uncomfortably, “Don’t know ’bout no boulder. I’m yer assimilation mentor, ye see.”

  “Ah, bringing me into the fold to enjoy the reward for my good deeds. To enjoy the fruits of God’s land for the eternal—”

  “Better be careful now,” said Sisyphus, “He’s touchy ’bout being called that y’know.”

  “Who, God?” asked Bill incredulously.

  “Nay, Lucifer. Who d’ye think runs this place? Come on, best I be showin’ ye to yer quarters,” said Sisyphus nonchalantly as he turned and walked off.

  Bill felt his heart drop to his stomach and followed hurriedly, taking two short strides for each one of the angel’s.

  “Excuse me, what did you say?” asked Bill.

  “I said, ‘best I be showin’ ye to yer quarters,’” said Sisyphus.

  “No, before that you said Lucifer runs Heaven,” remarked Bill adamantly.

  “Did I now?” grumbled Sisyphus, rolling his eyes.

  “But we are in Heaven, right?” asked Bill.

  “The one and only,” said Sisyphus proudly as he guided Bill across the well trodden stone path.

  “I don’t believe it. The Prince of Darkness can’t be in charge of Heaven? I mean, you’re an angel,” said Bill.

  “He’s not really one for titles, not him, no,” grunted Sisyphus as he continued walking.

  “You’re just messing with me aren’t you Sisyphus?” asked Bill, “Well, it’s very funny, but I just died and I’ve been traveling for my entire afterlife: I had a two hour layover in the stratosphere, and my luggage seems to have been misplaced. With all due respect, I’m in no mood for childish games.”

  “Your luggage hasn’t been misplaced; you are the luggage. And no, I’m not messing with you; Lucifer runs Heaven,” said Sisyphus.

  “But you’re in white. The color of innocence, purity,” Bill reasoned.

  “Aye, highly reflective white is, the better to blind our enemies during battle,” replied Sisyphus proudly.

  “But the wings—only God would give angels wings,” countered Bill.

  Sisyphus looked glum, “Aye, true enough. A cruel, trick that one,” he said sadly.

  “Cruel trick? What has Satan done—”

  “God gave us wings so his arrows could find us easier, man. More surface area, ye see. He used to use us to train ’is bird hounds,” replied Sisyphus da
rkly. Bill stared at him dumbfounded.

  “I don’t understand,” said Bill in muddled confusion, “How can this be? Since I was a boy I was taught that if one behaved, you would go to God’s land. I finally get here, and Satan, the embodiment of evil, is in charge? How can it be that the angels haven’t revolted?—”

  “Why would we? It’s not so bad here,” said Sisyphus, “Just keep yer head down and—”

  “Not so bad? You’re a slave in Satan’s army,” yelled Bill, unable to contain his disappointment and anger. I was good man. I deserve the Heaven I was raised to believe in. Not this…mockery. Several passing angels gazed curiously in his direction.

  “We-ell excuse me sir, This is a volunteer army. Man, what are they teaching down there?” growled Sisyphus.

  “How do you not know?” asked Bill skeptically, “the angels above are always watching over us in protection,” Bill recited, “or are you going to tell me that’s a lie too?”

  “The last time I was planet-side they were still working out the kinks in the wheel. A fool’s errand, if ye ask me. How did that turn ou—ah, well I’d rather not know,” mumbled Sisyphus.

  “Is this a test? I shall not fail it; I am true of heart,” Bill tightened his fingers into a fist, “Yes, that must be it. Only those who do not falter in their faith shall enter the true Heaven. I do say, Sisyphus, very clever, very clever indeed. Now I suppose I ought to prove myself and find and destroy Satan,” said Bill