The Heir of the Fallen

Chapter 1

Alexander Forthright

Alexander Forthright felt he had lived a good life. He did everything right by the standards set forth in his small town of Portville, Louisiana. Went to church every Sunday, married his high school sweetheart upon graduation, got a job at the local oil plant. He had one boy, one girl, and raised them in the Lord's name. He watched football after church on Sundays, went out with the family on the boat on Saturdays. Never missed a day of work in his 48 years at the plant.

However, after contracting stage 4 lung cancer from those said 48 years of working at the oil plant, he found himself on his deathbed, surrounded by his pastor, his wife, his two children, his 3 grandchildren and one great-grandchild at the ripe age of 66. The look around the room was sullen, with tear stained faces, as the pastor read the final prayer Alexander would ever hear.

"I commend you, my dear brother, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator. May you return to him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life."

As the pastor finished speaking, the Forthright family looked to Alexander, who was already gone. Unbeknownst to them, Alexander had passed before the pastor could finish the word 'commend.'

Upon opening his eyes, Alexander found himself seated in a plushy, leather recliner. He was in a small movie theater, which was scarcely lit by a large screen in front of him. The first thing he attempted to do was struggle to get a breath of air. It was the same thing he had been doing for years now. But after a few moments, he noticed his breathing was no longer staggered. His chest no longer hurt. Air simply filled his lungs precariously, coming naturally like it did when he was young. With his thoughts of a simple breath no longer vying for all of his attention, he finally started paying attention to what was playing on the screen.

When he did, he started to recognize what was flashing before him on the screen. His family, his wife, his kids... every milestone in his life floating on by. He was watching himself as well, not just how his life had been perceived by his own eyes.

The movie reel lasted for a little over an hour, but poor Alexander had already fallen asleep in his recliner.

"They call it the American Dream... but once that dream is shown to them, the realization of how dreadfully dull it has been for them to not even be able to keep their eyes open as their literal life plays out before their eyes?" A deep, silky voice purred into the movie theater, rousing Alexander awake. "It's an unfortunate waste of humanity." He blinked, looking around to find the source of said voice. He knew he was dead, but he sort of expected to be at the pearly gates by now. He was thinking that this little movie had just been a parlor trick, before the holy Lord himself warmly welcomed him home for the last time. But that voice didn't sound anything like a call home... That voice contained the ability to make Alexander find himself in a now very soiled pair of pants.

"Oh goody, Mr. Forthright wet himself. I never would have expected that," the voice dredged out, emanating sarcasm itself. "What a name, Mr. Forthright. Do you always find yourself right, sir?" A dark chuckle followed the taunting, echoing in the theater. Alexander was now cowering in the recliner, the warmth from his bottom not even bothering him. He knew that this voice now belonged to something much more sinister than he could have ever imagined. The screen, which had read 'The End' was now black. The only light was coming from two red, glowing circles, which had slowly entranced their way towards Alexander's recliner.

"Let me guess... Not where you expected to be, Mr. Forthright? Did you expect to be walking on a cloud, a gold circle above your head, wings just sprouting out your back? A man in a white robe to greet you?" The voice was louder, and powerful hands dropped onto either side of the recliner. Alexander squirmed, trying to make himself as small as he could in the chair. He could feel heat emanating as this man's hair tickled his face, and the red, glowing eyes slowly passed over Alexander and moved to his peripheral.

"I suppose you might have gathered who I am by now... and where you are." The man said in a softer, much more gentle way now, the man's lips almost brushing Alexander's ears as he spoke. Alexander could only nod, his whole body shaking in fear. This... this was the opposite of what he expected out of the afterlife. The only sound was Alexander's own terrified breath... except... there was something else there. It was oh so faint, but it was undeniably the most chilling collection of screams that Alexander had ever heard. The man moved one of his hands, lightly gripping Alexander's chin and forced him to look straight into his eyes.

"I always like to be the first to welcome my new constituents. I'll introduce myself. I go by many names. Satan, Apollyon, Mammon, Lucifer... But I prefer Beelzebub, the Prince of Darkness. I hope you enjoy your eternal stay."

Prince Beelzebub

Unlike Alexander's daft living family, it was very much known to Prince Beelzebub that Alexander had passed out once he had said the word 'Satan,' but Beelzebub was always one for a dramatic flair and could not be bothered by something as silly as fainting. Letting out a sigh, he released his grip on the unconscious man and called out to his best friend. His confidant, his right hand man, who ferried the newly dead to the afterlife for the Prince. The lights flared on, and the Prince straightened up, looking around for his Horseman of Death, Letum who was looking at Beelzebub with an exasperated glare.

Beelzebub returned the glare with a cheeky grin, flashing the whitest of teeth no living man had ever seen. "I have another one for you that just couldn't handle meeting me."

Letum let out a long sigh, but a grin ended up plastering across his scarred face. "I really wish you would just let me do my job before you scare them to a second possible death. We don't want another mass exodus incident that you yourself caused. That sir, left way too much work and not nearly enough play time."

Beelzebub simply shrugged and wrung his hands as if clearing himself of any wrongdoing, and strode away. "One less trip to Purgatory for you! You're welcome!"

He didn't greet every newcomer, no, that simply would take too long. Time did move much slower in this realm than on Earth, so even though someone died every 11 seconds or so, it felt more like one death a day. His favorite new locals to greet were the ones who had pledged their whole lives to their own deity, who were also expecting a grand welcome to their own versions of the Garden of Eden. Here in the afterlife, the Prince could do whatever he wanted. And if it led to the possibility of scaring the absolute piss out of every new god-fearing mortal that graced his realm, then, well, who was he to argue?

Journal #1

Sometimes I like to just sit on my front porch, tea in hand, and watch the sky. It always made me wonder, is someone from the living realm looking at the same exact thing I am? How does it appear to them? Is our sky the same sky?

People have high expectations when they come to this realm. Their leader sure does not meet the expectation that people bring with them, to the realm of the dead. I am sure we are all a sight for sore eyes, when they are expecting nothing but their own version of paradise.

I think newcomers ought best to leave things be, and not question how it works here.

They'll be safer if they don't, that's for sure.

-F