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Prologue
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Sometimes I wonder if this is really heaven. They say it is. Everything’s so beautiful and bright. It’s so peaceful here, so pure. But aren’t you supposed to be happy when you’re in heaven? Isn’t it promised somewhere? Eternal happiness.
Everything I thought was beautiful back on earth lacks in comparison to the beauty here. I’m not sure why, but that makes me feel sad. The brightness isn’t like sunlight. It’s more like the cheap florescent glow that lit up the old department stores mom used to drag me to. The reason why it’s so peaceful here is because no one bothers anyone. Everyone keeps to themselves. It’s lonely. Things here are so pure that, don’t laugh at me, there’s no artificial flavoring. It’s a small thing I know but you don’t realize how dependent you’ve become on it until it’s gone. I mean like soda? No such thing up here. Same thing with bubble gum and, well, pretty much any other non-100% fruit juice candy you can think of. The cake tastes a bit funny too. Worst thing about heaven is that since it’s so pure, there’s no such thing as hair dye. I’ve out grown the blonde and now I’m a brunette again. Damn.
I died when I was sixteen. It’s a terrible age to die at because there are a lot of things I never got to do. What sucks more is that there’s actually alcohol up here but since I’ll be forever sixteen, I’m never gonna be able to get piss ass drunk. There’s no cable up here, in fact, there’s no electricity. I’ve come to appreciate books more than I used to. But not that much more. I like to watch earth. The people on it I mean. I’ve been trying to convince Him to let me become a guardian angel or something but He says I’m too young. Back to the tortures of dying at sixteen. Damn.
I miss my sister and my mom. What’s strange about heaven is that they could have died, and they could be here, but I’ll never know. Like I said, people here are so caught up in their selves that they hardly even realize that they aren’t alone.
I run my hands over the white cotton dress I’m wearing. All my outfits are like this. Simple and white. No artificial coloring. I stare at the wall across from me. I have my own apartment. It’s actually kind of nice, but it lacks color. It’s small. It has a kitchenette, a small bathroom, on bedroom, and a living area. That makes me laugh. A living area for the dead. There’s a mirror in the bathroom but I think the only reason they give it to use is to mock us. I barely have a reflection. It’s just like a muddled and faded picture. I figure it’s like that for the rest too. The kitchen is a bit stranger than the one we had when I was alive. The cabinet is filled with foods I wouldn’t ever eat. I don’t have a refrigerator so I guess it’s a good thing that foods don’t go bad. There’s no microwave or dishwasher. In fact, there’s not even running water. There’s a well in the backyard that I have to get water from when I’m thirsty. I guess technically the kitchen is just a cabinet and a table. In the bedroom, there’s a full sized bed, a bedside table, and a wooden dresser. The bed is clothed with this itchy wool and the mattress is really thin and is stuffed with just feathers. So are the pillows. I’m really getting sick of getting stabbed with the ends of the feathers. There are beautiful red, yellow, and purple flowers lying on the bedside table that I had picked the first week I was here. They are still alive and still as gorgeous as ever. The dresser is filled with plain white dresses and ribbons for my hair. Girls aren’t given pants and shirts or anything like that. We have to wear dresses. What I like about no electricity is that it gives me an excuse to have candles every where. I love candles and I have millions of them on any available surface. It always smells really good in here.
I get up from my seat on the wooden floor. I know I probably look like crap. My hair’s a mess and I’m not wearing any make-up. I stand in the middle of the room, the living area. I guess I’m an angel. I don’t feel like an angel and I can’t fly but hey, I’ve got the wings. They wings were only cool though until I found out that I can’t fly. You have to have died when you were seventeen or older to be able to fly. I hate that. I smile and hum to myself as I spin slowly. This sort of a ritual I always do before I go to bed. It makes me feel happy.
“Dead as dead can be, my doctor tells me. But I just can’t believe him, never the optimistic one. I’m sure of your ability to become my perfect enemy.” I sing quietly. It was one of my favorite songs when I was alive. I loved the song so much. I was always afraid that I would forget it so every night I would sing it. I’d make sure that the words were carved into my mind.
In heaven things so detached that even your memories of life start to fade. That’s why everyone’s so alone. They forget what it’s like to be in love, to hate, to feel anything at all. I want to remember everything that has ever meant anything to me. I don’t want to forget.
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AN: Short, I know but I’m a bit rusty with the writing thing. I hope you like it, though. Read and review please.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, this isn’t meant to be a completely serious fic. Some people have really strong ideas of what heaven would be like and won’t like the thought of heaven being anything but perfect