Okay, so this is the third installment. I would suggest reading the first two chapters if you haven't already!
Chapter 3
I woke the next morning to Beth gently shaking me. She allowed me to clean myself this morning. She even consented to wishing up a shower for me. I wasn’t big on baths. When I had finished, she insisted on dressing me. Instead of my normal clothes, she pulled a long, loose white robe over my head. The baggy robe fell to my ankles.
“This is the customary initiation robe,” she explained, “the wing growing process is not pleasant to watch, so you wear this.”
“Does it hurt?” I asked nervously.
“No, not really, it’s not a painful sensation-just slightly uncomfortable.”
This did little to ease my nervousness.
Beth spent at least a quarter of an hour combing my hair. I asked why this was necessary, as it was short. She said I would want to look my best.
“Who is there?” I asked.
“Well, God,” I unconsciously checked my reflection in the water basin, “and Jacob and I, any relatives you had here would come, but you don’t seem to or you would have been assigned to them, not Jacob and me.”
After eating a small breakfast (I wasn’t feeling very hungry) we glided into the city. Jacob joined us, and we proceeded, to my surprise, to the library.
“Why here?” I asked curiously.
“Well, God likes it best here. So we generally do initiations on the steps. That way the public can see who is joining them.”
I was somewhat nervous at the idea that anyone could watch me sprout wings from my back.
“Isn’t there any way to do this privately?” I asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid not, dear,” said Jacob sympathetically.
As we approached the library, I saw God standing at the top of the steps, smiling. There were also a few other nervous looking people wearing white robes like me, standing next to him.
“Who are they?” I asked, gesturing towards the people.
“Other soon to be angels. We get so many you see that God does them in batches. Go on,” she added, “go say hi to the others.” She gave me a small shove and I glided up the steps.
There were three others. Two were old, an old man and woman who had died of old age within a few weeks of each other. The other, though, was a young man. He didn’t look much older than me. He was tall and fair, with open features and laughing eyes. He contrasted strongly with God standing beside him, dark and with deep, worldly features. The man waved at me as I approached.
“Matthew Greene,” he said, with a hint of an Australian accent, “but you may call me Matt.”
“Rebecca Mason,” I replied, “call me Becky. Nice to meet you, Matt.”
“Same,” he replied. We shook hands. His was strong, with calluses.
“So, how come you’re here, Rebecca?”
“Becky,” I reminded him softly, “car crash. It was raining and some imbecile in a truck barreled into me.”
His face fell.
“What?” I asked curiously.
“Oh, nothing. Never mind.” He turned away.
“What about you? How did you die?” I asked. He pretended not to hear me. Unsure what I had done wrong, I stared at the ground and waited for something to happen. At long last, God’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd that had gathered at the foot of the steps.
“Ladies and Gentleman,” he began, “today we will be joined by four new angels. Matthew Greene, Jamie Kyle, Robert Kyle, and Rebecca Mason.”
I could see Beth and Jacob applauding.
“Before we grant them their wings, does anyone have objections?”
There was a silence. Then:
“THAT ONE!” rang out through the crowd. A hush fell.
“Come forward, Quinn,” said God, though I saw him roll his eyes. The man named Quinn was pointing at me with a trembling finger. He was quite old and looked like he’d stepped straight out of the eighteenth century.
“And what problem do you have with Rebecca?” asked God.
“She’s a witch!” yelled he, “a sliming, no good, satanic witch! She’ll bring ruin to us all!”
“I’m afraid, Quinn, that your record of being correct is rather outweighed by your false accusations. Unless you can prove that Miss Mason is truly a witch (which I would argue don’t exist) we will go ahead with making her an angel.”
I was somewhat shaken by Quinn’s accusation, though nevertheless grateful to God.
“Don’t worry Becky,” I suddenly heard God’s voice inside my head again. I looked over and saw that he was addressing the people below. “Yes, I’m fairly good at multitasking. But anyway, don’t worry about Quinn. He is constantly picking someone to accuse of witchcraft. He was a minister during the witch hunts.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. Why would someone like Quinn end up in heaven? I kept my thoughts to myself. God was now explaining each of our deaths and why we deserved the wings. I wasn’t listening much, still too distracted.
A sharp prickling in my back brought me back down to earth. Or heaven. Whatever. Anyway, there was a funny feeling between my shoulder blades. I looked around at the others to see them in similar stages of confusion. God’s face was upturned. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be concentrating hard. My back was stretched tight. Then, suddenly, I felt something burst through. My white robe ripped. Something was dripping down my back. I struggled to see my back, and glimpsed a red stain spreading across the white fabric. I felt a small pang of pain, but then as suddenly as it had come the pain vanished. The flow of blood stopped. The red stain faded. I looked around.
The other three had huge wings sprouting out of their backs. I put my hand behind me, and hit a large, feathered object. I had wings! Now that I knew, I tried to direct my energy into them. They flapped involuntarily, and I found myself lifted off the ground. And then I couldn’t control them. I was borne up and away, Beth’s face glowing with excitement, and then she was flying too, and slowly the sky filled with angels. The sight was so beautiful it made me cry. And tears streaming down my face, I embraced Beth.
But one person had not taken off from the ground. Quinn’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed me. I felt a chill. I decided to stay out of his way. But would he stay out of mine?
What is your plot? Is it going to be about Becky exploring heaven?