There Were No Flowers in Hell

“Speak now.”

I startled, fumbling as I attempt to figure out if I should stay bowed or raise my head to speak. Surely, God does not want me to look them in the eye. But Mother always said it was rude to not look at someone while they spoke, even if it was uncomfortable and I spent more time trying to maintain eye-contact than –

“Speak. Now.”

“Uh, yes My Lord – Lady – Majesty,” I squeaked, doing something strange with my hands before folding them into my lap.

I paused, letting the unearthly silence of the room settle. The absence of sounds only made my heart sound louder in my ears. Speak, God had said. Okay. Um. 

, “ … What am I supposed to say?”

God heaved a sigh, that had the implication of, can you believe this kid? The sound reverberated off white-marble walls, making the eerie light filtering through the curtained windows waver, like light itself was faltering. I wondered where those windows led to, if there was a world out there I did not know of. I wondered if there were flowers there.

How did I get here?

“Look up.”

I looked up, because one did not disobey God. The light emulating from their body shimmered down, and I blinked trying to clear my vision. The throne was a startling white, and the person on it –

“You’re a woman?”

God sighed, again, studying me with a lazy eye. I fought the urge to look down or look away and attempted to train my gaze on their forehead instead. Mother told me my gaze was intense, so I tried to soften it, but I think it does something to my face because God frowns, dark brows crinkling and blood-red lips downturning. Like, actual blood-red, not ruby-red or poppy red which were both pretty colours, but blood-red, like the kind that seeped into the carpet when Mother – 

“You’re dead.”

God says it as a fact. I was dead. That was okay, I supposed, because I kind of figured I might be. Since I was meeting God.

“Yes,” I said agreeably.

There was a pause, in which I stared down God. God was giving me a look I couldn’t decipher, but was much like the look Mother gave me when I was being strange. I didn’t like being strange. People looked at me when I was strange and I didn’t like the looks they gave me. Like they – like I –

“Why?” God asked.

I realised I had looked away. Focus, I told myself. God’s blood-red lips were distracting. She had pretty hair too, curling locks that were tied up elegantly. I had never seen anyone like her but that was because I came from a village in the middle of nowhere, where people weren’t allowed to be different, even if I didn’t look different, I just was and I could never figure out –

“Why?” I parroted, then flushed, “I mean, I’m not sure what you’re asking? Why am I here? I died, I guess but um … why did I die? I don’t really know … I …”

“Can’t remember,” God said, with a decisive nod. They waved their hand, dainty dark fingers playing against the light, “Remember now.”

There’s a constriction in my chest, like a snake squeezing around my body. My hands spasmed awkwardly, something the villagers had never liked, and Mother liked less. What did they call me again? It was –

And then I was –

“No,” I said stubbornly.

One did not disobey God.

Except God just sighed.

“No what?”

“I don’t want to remember,” I said tightly.

God groaned. They leaned back in their white throne and looked towards the sky, as if praying to God – er, themself? – for patience. 

“You must.”

“Why?” I asked, then realised maybe I was pushing my luck. God was being very patient with me. More patient than Mother had been, but that was rude to think, because Mother raised me and fed me and gave me a roof, even though I was so different that no man would’ve married me.

“For sorting,” God said through gritted teeth. 

“Sorting?” I asked, then lit up, “Like heaven and hell! Mother said I was going to hell but I’d rather not, because it’s boring to be in eternal misery, actually, and I don’t really like fire. But I suppose pain never stops being new because no matter how many times I got hit it always felt new. I’d like to go to heaven very much actually but it might get boring too if there aren't any flowers, because I like flowers a lot. There was this –” 

I slammed my mouth shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chanted in my head. God didn’t care about flowers in Aunt May’s fields. Stupid. This is why the villagers –

This is why they –

Tears sprung to my eyes. I looked down and clenched my hands together, trying to control them but I couldn’t. Because I was different and I was born with the Devil in me, and God would realise and send me to eternal suffering and –

And —

And there were no flowers in hell.

“Stop thinking,” God said.

I looked up. God looked mildly concerned, peering down at me from their throne. I flushed.

“Sorry, I –” I paused, “Do you always only use two words?”

God looked … sheepish?

Stupid, I told myself. Mother hated it when I noticed things I shouldn’t. I should’ve kept that to myself. 

“Maybe,” they murmured, “Weird?”

“Not at all!” I yelped, because God was amazing. They were so nice to me, in a way no one had ever been, not even Aunt May, “You’re not what I imagined though! Not that I imagined much because Mother always said you’re a he but that didn’t make sense cause he’s are boys but you’re God and – I’m doing it again.”

“You are,” God said, her blood-red lips quirking upwards.

“So … you can’t sort me if I don’t remember?” I said, because I remembered, I remembered fire and I didn’t want to remember the rest.

“Don’t know.”

I tilted my head curiously, “Oh okay! That’s okay. I don’t know much either. Mother says.”

God sighed, then looked around a little consideringly. “New job,” they explained, definitely sheepish this time.

I blinked. “You can be new to being a God? I have so many questions.”

God leaned back and crossed their legs, “You do?”

“Of course I do! How can I not?”

I wanted to ask – I wanted so badly that I hadn’t even realised I was looking God in the eyes. There was light there, bright and bemused, hidden within the depths of its abyss. God was ethereal. Of course they were. They were God.

“Can I – can I ask?”

God leaned back on their throne, looking amused.

“Ask now.”

So I did.