After-Life

Chapter 33. A Tale Retold

The first thing that struck Mabel was just how sterile everything around them seemed to be. She was unclear as to what she had expected to reside behind heaven's gates, but whatever imagery she might have conjured in her younger years, the actual entryway of heaven was nothing short of disappointing. The floor was laid with burgundy corded carpet tiles. In the decorator's defence, they were plush carpet tiles, yet Mabel sensed it was mostly down to the spiritual footsteps that didn't bear down on it the same way a physical tread would. The walls were a paisley green colour which would have clashed sickeningly with the carpet, were it not for the fact that every inch of surface space was adorned with frames depicting unique symbology.

"What do you suppose they all mean?" Kristoph murmured, puzzling over the intricate designs displayed behind each frame.
Mabel looked up toward the vast ceiling above her, as she searched for a clue. The frames were endless and so high up that it was impossible to determine what symbols were depicted in the frames that adorned the alcoves.
"Here," Kristoph whispered, pointing above the gates. Faded paint flaked down from the arch detailing a cursive transcript; "Angeli et Sancti anni Recognitione? Tell me that's not saying what I think it is."
"Angel and Saint of the year recognition. You have got to be joking," Mabel snorted.
"I suppose even heaven needs an employee of the year award, but I don't get why," Kristoph shook his head in bewilderment, at the countless number of frames around them.

Mabel shrugged and reviewed the framed symbology again, "so these must be the symbols assigned to all angels and saints who serve under heaven's lore. That's why they're so small and line each of these walls, time is never-ending up here and they never forget," she mused quietly to herself. "I suspect, our horseman War..." Mabel caught herself before saying Lucifer's name. If Jesus used his own as a summoning card, only heaven knew what saying the almighty's greatest foe's name would do. She squinted her eyes as she strained to look higher up, but it was no good.
"I suspect War's symbol would be in one of those older looking frames up there. Remember the story of the great rebellion? When so many were cast out?"
Kristoph nodded, "sure."
"Well, legend said it was because... War... was an advocate for freedom of speech and he was not ashamed to promote that mindset against his father. He refused to bow down to mankind and having a lust to sit on his father's thrown, he naturally disagreed with much of what the almighty did. War is the anti-everything when it comes to Heaven and its lore. Remember what Asmodeus said to Azrael back in Germany? In Hell, freedom of speech is welcome, but somewhat prohibited up here. That was why he coaxed my original self to eat the apple and gain full knowledge. He wanted to provide to his father that his rule was weak, and his creations were just as pathetic," Mabel explained. "That being said, I'm starting to question much of that original story."
"How come?" Kristoph asked.
"Well, if that were the case, why do this? Every deity receives worship on earth in some small way, even War, so why would they need recognition awards up here?" She queried.
"They do seem like a bunch of pompous pri..." Kristoph started to reason, however a clatter further up the corridor caused them both to stop their discussion and pin their backs against the wall.

Slowly, they shuffled along the long corridor and approached a closed doorway where muffled clattering could be heard coming from within. Hesitantly, Kristoph unwrapped the blueprints he'd kept tucked under his arm and pointed to the spot that Thet had termed the vantage point. Mabel nodded, and frowned, the door had no handle. Cautiously, she reached out to touch the metallic barrier. With a soft but firm grip, Kristoph grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
"We don't know who or what is in there," he hissed. "What if it's a trapped demon?"
"In Heaven?" Mabel frowned, "it's rather unlikely, Kris."
"Regardless, it could be a trap;" Kristoph reasoned, "the son spot might have left something in there to..."
"Kill us?" Mabel finished Kristoph's sentence with a smirk, "Kris, we're already in a death like state on earth. We are two souls in heaven. We've just swung by our estranged son in Purgatory. We are friends with a child from Limbo. We're also friends with a Duke of Hell. What could they possibly do to us, that would deter anyone of our allies from coming to our aid?"
Kristoph considered Mabel's point and smiled, despite himself; her confidence was unquestionably infectious.
Refusing to let go of her wrist however, Kristoph gently pushed Mabel's hand against the door. With a soft click it moved smoothly away from the doorframe, slowly swinging inward.
"Ah, finally! Thank you both, so much," came a soft, exhausted, and tired man's voice from within. Before Mabel and Kristoph had a chance to react, two aged and purple blotched hands, reached out to clasp theirs and gently pulled them in to the room.
"F-father... do you think this... wise?" Another delicate, exasperated, yet younger man's voice spoke from the shadows of the room.