From Heaven To Hell

Heaven and Hell

"Lizzy? Liz? Are you okay?" My mother's concerned voice hits my ears but it's a dull sound compared to the ringing bombarding them.

Not. Human.

Not.

Human.

She pulls my hands from my face, taking it in her soft ones instead, bringing my vision to her eyes.

"Liz, I'm so sorry. I didn't think I'd have to tell you like this." There are tears gathering in her brown eyes and I suddenly feel as though there are some in my own.

"What do you mean?" I whisper it, not knowing if I could keep back the emotions I feel in my body.

Taking hold of her arms, I unattach her from me, and stand up. Thankfully, my legs keep up my weight.

Unfortunately, I must be hearing things.

"Alan wasn't your real father. Your real father was a man named Lucius." Lucius. As in I'm-pregnant-with-his-child-Lucius. My chest wants to break open as I feel my heart hammering against my insides. I feel myself slump back onto one of the stools. What the hell?

She walks over to the sink, facing the yard while I nervously fidget my fingers. This has to be some kind of joke right? But after a few moments, I realize she's not turning around to tell me it's all a prank. That's she just joking and she somehow convinced Noah, of all people, to help psyche me out. She keeps her eyes away from me, a tic that she has when she's confessing something.

Not exactly the confession I think I want.

"There are such things as Angels and Demons. Heaven and Hell aren't just things in the Bible.-" Mom looks into the sink, and pauses before continuing- "They're real." She brings her focus back on the window, her knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the sink. I feel as if I should say something but wait for her to tell me more.

"I was born in 1897." At this I sputter.

"You're over a hundred years old?" I'm still holding out hope she'll laugh and tell me she's joking.

She doesn't.

"My parents were farmers; poor and barely able to care for me. It was a desolate place, and I always dreamed of getting out and doing something." She chuckles, but it sounds forced. "I wanted to explore the world, I enjoyed beauty from a young age. But being a painter or anything of real importance was not seeming to be in the cards for me." My eyebrows are knotted, confusion still swarming through every inch of my body.

"But........ I was meant for something. There are such things as Guardian Angels. They protect mortals from creatures of Hell. I was chosen to be a Guardian." After she says this, Mom turns to meet my eyes, and I see a different person. Someone strong and confident. Although her story is outlandish, the fire I see in her eyes is completely real.

It hits me then. "You're serious." My voice is filled with disbelief.

She nods before continuing, "There has been a perpetual war between Heaven and Hell over the Earth. One that started from the birth of mortals. You see,-" she licks her lips, taking a deep breath- "Earth was once swarming with angelic beings. They were harmonious, they lived in peace. But God's beings, mortals, came. Beings that created and inspired and gave spontaneity to Earth. God's ultimate creation. We were meant to protect them." My eyes are glued to her, imagining a land where people with wings and powers lived in a place where there was no hate. Now it sounds completely ridiculous.