Yesterday's writing prompt at my writer's group was "passages". There are so many stories revolve around passages; wormholes, wardrobes, ships.... You name it. And I didn't want to write something that had been used a million times. So I spent a long time looking at the various definitions (did you know there's one related to dressage?), and this is what came out.
Safe Passage
It took me nearly a year to negotiate safe passage. I was lucky, some people wait decades, or just give up and risk taking the trip without a ticket. It's hard when you're getting older and older but still can't go. But fortunately Saint Peter owed me a favor. I'd gotten him out of jam one time; made some evidence disappear that would have shown he'd let in someone he shouldn't have. It wasn't really clear that anyone was paying attention anyway, but you never knew when God might come back from wherever he'd gone.
I showed up at my appointed time. There was a crowd of people making it hard to get through. Folks with canes, walkers, and in wheelchairs. Many who were obviously way past what would have been their appointed time. There was no way I was going to do that to myself. I had enough aches and pains after waiting a year. Some were hesitating. Some were resigned and limping ahead. But there weren't too many of us with tickets for safe passage.
I worked my way through the crowd, and over to the VIP door, and showed my ticket to the bored guard. He looked at it carefully, and then said, "Wait for an archangel, or this is worthless," and waved me through.
The other side was even worse than I expected. I stood in a small alcove with a door-sized iron grate between myself and the Rainbow Bridge. I'd known the bridge was in disrepair since God had walked off the job and disappeared, but I hadn't realized just how bad it was. There were holes in the pavement that dropped all the way to Purgatory. I heard some people were choosing that route over the alternative. The protective nets that kept out the beasts from Hell were torn and tattered. And high above I could see eagles, griffons, and other odder beasts circling, looking for fresh meat. The bridge was clogged with empty walkers and wheelchairs that had belonged to people who hadn't avoided their watchful eyes. If you were lucky they might drop you, and you'd end up in Purgatory forever. Otherwise, they'd take you down to the depths of Hell and feast on your liver along the way. Occasionally I could see someone dashing from one shadow to the next on the bridge, hoping they'd make it through. I knew some people tried to bring weapons, but it was pointless. Naked you came into this world, naked you would leave it.
But I had my ticket, so I waited for an archangel to show up and escort me to Heaven.
#ShortStories #FlashFiction #MicroFiction #Writing
. Language is political.
