Judgement Day

It’s the coldest day of the year, with temperatures at ten degrees Fahrenheit. Snow blankets the ground, with only the salt-covered roads a different color than white. It’s my year to host Christmas Eve for the family and everything needs to be perfect. I add more wood to the fireplace and adjust the stockings. On my way to the kitchen, I check the grandfather clock in the corner of the hallway. Half an hour till the party starts. I rearrange plates of cookies and carry them into the dining room, coordinating them into colorful patterns, when the doorbell rings. 

That’s strange, nobody in my family is ever this early.

I walk to the living room. I look through the window to view the porch to see who’s arrived. I see two men in coats, holding gifts. I furrow my eyebrows. I have no idea who they are.

They’re probably lost and looking for directions.

The doorbell rings again. I grab the doorknob and pull. The two men look at me. One gives a smile that reminds me of Mr. Rogers, while the other has a more sinister intention behind his eyes. They look like father and son. Mr. Rogers speaks first.

“Hello, my dear. Is this the home of Valerie Cunningham? I hope we’re on time for the party.”

“Yes…I’m Valerie.” Maybe they’re a distant relative that Mom invited. “Please come in. I don’t want you to freeze.”

“Thanks. I was hoping you’d let us in,” the son says sarcastically. Mr. Rogers gives him a quick scolding look over his shoulder as he enters the house. I take both of the gifts and put them under the tree. I tell them to put their coats over the banister on the stairs leading to the basement. 

“You look lovely,” the old man says. “You’ve grown up so much.”

“I remember when she was born,” the son says.

We all move to the living room, where Mr. Rogers and I sit on opposite ends of the couch, while the other sits in the armchair by the fire. He seems to bask in the heat, while the father seems more comfortable in the cooler part of the room by the tree. I start to make conversation.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. What side of the family are you on? I figured my mom must have invited you.”

The young man looks up from the fireplace and shares a glance with the other. “We’re old friends of the family.”

“Then…how come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Where we live, it can be hard for us to travel. We live in a more isolated place.”

“This town must feel like a different world then.” I laugh.

“You have no idea,” says the younger man.

The older man gives a cough that sounds like he’s clearing his throat and the other goes back to looking at the fire. The older man turns his body towards me and gives me a warm smile.

“My dear, you do look lovely. You’ve grown up so well, considering everything you’ve been through.”

I scrunch up my nose giving him a puzzled look. What does he mean? He goes to open his mouth when the son interrupts.

“Valerie I hate to bug you”-even though his tone implies he doesn’t care if he bugs me or not- “but we will have to leave early, so we would like for you to open our gifts.”

“Sure, maybe once the other guests have settled in…”

The old man gives a slow shake of his head. “My dear, we only have an hour before we have to go. We’d like it if you opened it now.”

I looked between the both of them, their expressions the same. They hand me the gifts. They both looked the same, except for the nametag. One said ‘Iam,’ but with a space in the word that made it look like “I am.” The other name tag said “Deville.” What strange names. Parents have always tried to be unique with family names. 

I open the gift from the older man first. As I tear off the wrapping paper, a red box starts to become visible. I put the wrapping paper on the coffee table and opened the lid. Inside was a small gold piece of paper that said ‘HEAVEN’ on it in black writing. 

I freeze. ‘What the…?’

I quickly move to the second gift, unsure of what that will be. An identical red box. Inside is a small blood-red piece of paper that says ‘HELL’ on it in black as well. I stay frozen. What kind of a joke is this? 

But I realize this isn't a joke as I look up at the younger man. I can’t help but jump back. His eyes are now red and his fingernails have turned into black claws. I turn to look at the older man. He has grown a larger white beard and there is an aura of light around him. It almost seems like he purposely keeps the light dim so as not to blind me. I jump from the couch and take a few terrified steps backward, never taking my eyes off of them. Who are they? What are they? The old man speaks first.

“Valerie, please sit back down,” he says gently.

“I’m not going anywhere near you. Leave. Now. Or I’m calling the police.”

“I told you she’d say that. They all do at first,” says the younger one, the light from the fireplace reflecting off his claws. 

He continues. “The police aren’t going to do anything. Besides, if we did want to hurt you, they wouldn’t be able to get to this part of town fast enough because of the snow.”

“S-so, you don’t want to hurt me? Then what are you doing here?”

“Please sit down,” the old man says again. “We’ll explain.”

I stand still, trying to wrap my head around the situation. Eventually, I sat down back on the couch, afraid of what would happen if I didn’t.

“Let’s start at the beginning shall we,” says the young man. “My name is Lucifer. The world knows me as the devil, but people who know me on a more personal level call me Lucifer.”

“And I’m God. That's how the world knows me.” 

“If you’re God,” - I point to the old man - “and you’re the devil,” - I point to the younger one - “then what are you doing here? And what are you doing here together? Aren’t you two enemies?”

“Well yes,” says the devil. “But we also have to check up on each other every few decades. Make sure everything is in order and that there’s a balance. Just because I’m the rebellious angel doesn’t mean this one isn’t a softie and doesn’t care about me.” He points to God.

“And every once in a while, when there is a soul whose destination is undecided, we decide to pay that mortal a visit before their time on earth is up.”

Now I think that I'm crazy. I'm not sure if I should scream or burst out laughing. 

“Wait a minute. You’re telling me that you’re here to decide if I’m going to heaven or hell? Don’t we have a few decades left? I’m only thirty-five.”

They exchange a look. God has a melancholic look in his eyes, and the devil’s face seems to be made of stone. It hits me like plunging into icy waters. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I feel like I’m going to vomit. 

“I’m going to die. Sooner rather than later,” I say with certainty.

God doesn’t seem to have the heart to say it, but the devil does. “Yes, you’re going to die in the near future.”

I almost fell back, plunging onto the couch. I feel so helpless. Like it was determined a long time ago and I had no say. I had no say when I was going to die and there was nothing I could do to change it. I’m probably lucky I’m even getting a warning. 

“How much time do I have left,” I ask.

God decides to answer the question. “A few hours.”

My brain goes into survival mode and my body goes numb. I can’t handle it emotionally. I don’t know how I should be feeling. I try to shut down my heart, but the more I try, the more it churns and churns. Before I know it, I’m crying. The tears push their way through my eyes, and I start to sniffle. I can’t help it, and I can’t change how unfair this is. Why do I have to die now? Why me?

“Valerie,” says God, “I know this is very hard to process, but please know that I understand. Many of the mortals we have visited have felt this way when we told them.”

I go from sadness to anger. I want to punch both of them in the face, but how do you punch two spirits? I’m guessing it would hurt more for me than them.

“If I was undecided this whole time, why didn’t you tell me sooner,” I practically yell.

“A mortal’s life must play out before we can make that decision. When a mortal is born, they are born with a clean slate. The slate gets dirty once they start to grow and make their own decisions. Their own choices. But not every mistake or right decision decides where a person goes. We take into consideration that other people can cause harm and force someone to act in a certain way and that people can learn from their mistakes. We look at patterns of behavior throughout a mortal’s life.”

“So what makes a soul marked as undecided?”

The devil answers the question. “The mortal’s actions throughout their life are almost split into half bad, half good. They have done a lot of good things, but also a lot of bad things. Or, they have an extremely unusual life and therefore the way they have chosen to live their life must be taken under serious consideration and must be looked at from every angle.”

“Which one am I?” I’m scared of the answer.

“The latter,” says God.

I sigh in relief. At least I know I’m not dying a completely horrible person. But that led to new questions.

“So how does this work?”

God answers. “We give you an information session for a few minutes about our respective domains, but then we spend the rest of our visit going over your life. We do this so you can decide where to go. We have seen that going through memories and the past helps a person reflect on themselves as a whole, instead of who they have become recently.”

I look between both of them. I have to decide where I’m going for eternity in less than an hour?

“We do have to go soon, so we should get started,” says the devil.

They each give me two minutes of information on heaven and hell. Besides what I know from stories and myths about both places, they do surprise me a little. Things no mortal knows, about either. Hell is not all fire and brimstone and heaven can be more like the human world than pure paradise every second. Both seem to be closer to the middle.

Once they are done, we move on to part two. God snaps his fingers and a file appears out of thin air. The folder has my name on the front in bold, and papers are bursting out of the seams. I’m not surprised though. I’ve lived through more than most. God puts the folder on the coffee table for all of us to see and opens it to the first page. It’s an information sheet, with basic facts such as my eye color and height. God licks his finger and turns to the next page. This is another information sheet but…stranger.

It’s full of basic facts about me, but facts like my favorite color and my least favorite type of music. God must see my puzzled expression because he gives a chuckle and says “We believe information like this is very important. This is what makes up a good part of your personality.”

Then he turns to the third page, which is the day I was born. There’s a picture attached to the top of the page, held together by a paper clip. It’s me as a baby, swaddled in a blanket in my mother’s arms. She looks exhausted but has a wide smile on her face as she’s looking down at me. 

We go through page after page, memory after memory, my life literally flashing before my eyes. Finally, we get to somewhere around the halfway point, to the memory I was hoping to avoid for the rest of my life. But since that seems to be coming to an end, I guess I have no choice but to revisit it. 

“Do we have to?” I turn to God.

He sighs and closes his eyes, as if he knows the answer, but doesn’t want to say it. 

“I’m afraid so,” he says and we all look down at the page. 

There isn’t a picture, but a typed-up report about what happened. None of us read it loud-we all know what happened. After a minute or two we all look at each other. Both the devil and God look as if waiting for an answer, an explanation. 

“I didn’t think she even had a chance. Who does with stage four melanoma? I pulled the plug to save my sister’s life. If I didn’t go behind their backs, who knows how long she would have been in pain,” I say quietly. 

“But no matter how much I try to look at it, I can’t wipe away the blood on my hands or the wave of guilt that floods my lungs, making it feel like I can’t breathe.” Tears start to stream down my face, soon turning uncontrollable. I can’t help it as I turn to God, whose expression is unreadable.

“Would she have lived?” I barely whisper.

“Yes.”

The single drops turn into waterfalls that streak my cheeks and fall to my chin. I wish it was me who had died. God gives an uncomfortable clearing of his throat, turning to the next page, looking at the next part of my life. 

This wasn’t pretty either. I had turned to drinking to numb the pain. Drinking soon became the motivation to get out of bed in the morning. Part of me hoped I would have too much and this would all be over. It was mom who pushed me to get help. I stayed mad at her for years. She took the one thing I enjoyed anymore. She didn’t seem to understand, no matter how I tried to explain it. 

After I got out of rehab, I got an office job and started to take up reading and sewing. I started going to support groups for reformed alcoholics, trying to help them from getting back into bad habits. Brain tasks that kept my mind from wandering back to booze or guilt. But I woke up every day, wondering how my parents forgave me, and how unconditional love stood the test of time. 

We all sit in silence as we flipped through the next few pages. Lucifer is the first to speak. 

“Well, we won’t state the obvious. You know the gravity of the situation.” He pauses and stares down at his claws. I see my reflection in them. I look like a mess.

“What are you thinking,” says God in a patient tone.

I pause. I can't think because my mind won't shut up with a thousand thoughts trying to squeeze through. I would be stupid if I chose heaven but screwed if I chose hell.

“Are there any other options?” I asked. They shake their heads no.

I start to look around the room. I don’t know why, I guess I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to find the answer. My glance catches at the clock. The hour is almost up. Guests will start arriving in a few minutes. 

“And you guys can’t decide?”

“We would be breaking our laws, “ said Lucifer. 

“Isn’t breaking the law like, your thing?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Even the prince of darkness has to follow some rules. Horrific things would happen if the realms were out of balance.”

I start pacing the room, the clock running out of time. As I go back and forth, the truth creeps in slowly. Deep down I’ve known all along. I look between both of them. And settle on Lucifer. I just nod my head at him and he raises his eyebrows.

“You’re sure?” 

“My child…” God reaches out his hand. 

“I think you’ve known this too,” I said.

He slowly pulls his hand away and nods. He gets up out of his chair and takes the red box he gave me. The one Lucifer gave me remains on the coffee table. 

“Make sure you have the ticket. Once your soul passes to the other side, you will use it to get in,” says Lucifer. 

They both go to the banister and put their coats on. They both give me a passing glance as they walk out the front door. As I’m about to close it, I remember there is a question I wanted to ask.

“Wait!” I ran out of the house, ignoring the cold biting my skin.

They both stop and turn around, looking at me.

“How do I die?”

Lucifer chuckles. “You trip and fall down the stairs and crack your neck. After the party.”

I look at them dumbfounded. 

“Seriously?!”

He gives me a sad smile. “I’m afraid so.”

They both turn and walk down the street as Mom’s car turns up the block and pulls into the driveway.