Extraordinary

The Not-So-Glorious Stairway to Heaven

Scott blinked his eyes open, heart thudding, and tried to fight against his instinct to scream. He could feel something solid and wet underneath his back, and he was staring into an endlessly gray sky.

Fuck.

He couldn't even try to guess where he was, and the only clue he had was that Mitch had something to do with his sudden transportation from the steps leading to the school. Slowly, as his head was throbbing with a dull ache, he lifted his head and peered curiously around.

From this action he could tell he was lying in the middle of a cracked, old road surrounded by an endless green sea of grass, his upper body alarmingly close to a gigantic puddle. The puddle's smooth surface was occasionally marred by raindrops, which Scott could also feel on his bare arms and face. He craned his neck, and saw Mitch and his huge mottled wings pacing furiously a few yards away, his wings flapping in agitation.

"Mitch?" he said weakly, pushing himself up onto his elbows and trying not to reveal how relieved he was to see Mitch. Which had nothing to do with the angel himself, he just didn't want to be here alone. Yeah. "Where are we?"

Mitch's head had perked up at the sound of his voice, and now he was walking towards Scott, the expression on his face nowhere near holy. "You are here only because you fucking grabbed my arm when I told you not to," Mitch hissed through gritted teeth.

"You cursed," Scott said in wonder, completely disregarding Mitch's words because there was no way in Hell this was his fault. "You blasphemed. An angel blasphemed."

He tried not to snicker as this fact dawned on Mitch.

"Whatever!" Mitch told him, a blush still faint on his cheeks. "What matters is that because you didn't let go, and now I've brought a fucking demon into Heaven!"

Scott felt the blood drain from his face, and he quickly leapt to his feet, his tail whipping anxiously behind him. "Heaven?" he mustered.

Mitch looked like he was ready to punch Scott's nose in. "Yes."

"This isn't how I imagined Heaven would look."

"It's my, well; it's my own little slice of Heaven." At Scott's confused look, Mitch continued. "Each angel has a little piece of Heaven to themselves, kind of like a bedroom. I'm sure demons have their little torture chamber down there or whatever. It virtually takes up no space, and it reflects whatever I'm feeling. It looks different depending on my mood."

Scott looked around. It was now pouring rain, flattening his hair to his skull, and thunder rumbled up ahead. Mitch was annoyingly dry. It was clear that Mitch wasn't happy with him or the situation.

Scott thought briefly about apologizing, but he decided to instead say, "We don't have personalized torture chambers in Hell—" He was cut off by a loud rumble, shaking the Earth and nearly knocking him off his feet. "Geez, Mitch," he started. "I know you're upset, but you—"

"That wasn't my thunder," Mitch said in a small voice. As if on cue, a bright light with a man's silhouette in the center suddenly appeared, and Mitch reached out and tapped Scott on the forehead.

Scott was standing in an open valley, green grass tickling his bare feet and flowers dotting the hills. "What the f—"

"We're in an empty piece of Heaven," Mitch explained, cutting Scott's blasphemy short. "It's most likely being prepared for a new fledgling."

Scott just nodded, gazing around. This was more like how Scott pictured Heaven: disgustingly bright, warm, and beautiful. "What was that light?" he asked after a moment.