“It’s been fifty years already? Time flies on Earth 7. I remember how dull the years felt all that time ago. How bored I was with my immortality, sitting around with the other self-righteous on Earth 1. Or shall I just call it Earth? What do the angels refer to it as?” Alex asked, paying little attention to the angel. He had been struggling to open his can of soup for the last ten minutes, banging it against the side of his worn-out kitchen table. The pointed edges of the table piercing the top but not quite busting it open, spilling droplets of red tomato soup all over the table.

“We call it heaven. You were a holy man back then; a crowning achievement of what faith could do for a person. We still believe you are that holy person, which is why we are begging you to reconsider this crusade you’re performing. These people will repent on their own. They don’t need you to torment them into submission.” The angel pleaded; body hidden by a ray of golden light. On Earth 1, the angels were visible, a figure that those holy humans could comprehend, but as one moved lower down the Earth’s, the angels became more obscured, their features not visible behind the protective holy lights.

“Really? You think this is reforming anyone? Have you even looked at the world outside? Feel free to glance out of the cracks in my walls. It’s hell on this Earth. You put the worst of the worst together and expected them to play nice?”

“We believed that it would be in their best interest to be separated. It would offer them a chance to self-reflect without harming anyone else.”

“Without harming anyone else? So, it’s fine if they kill each other?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s implied. I agree with you, I would rather they kill each other. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give them a chance to reflect on their mistakes. All you’ve done is given them access to a playground of sin, one where they have even fewer consequences.” Alex banged the can against the edge, the top spilling open, spilling a wave of red liquid over the table. “Want some soup?”

“I’ll pass. Don’t you think this is better? We created a heaven and hell using your Earth, a way to organize people into categories. No one dies anymore. They simply live and reflect on their lives until they earn their way to Earth 1.”

“How many people here do you believe will earn their way back?”

“I believe every sinner has a chance to-“

“Honestly. Without the shit, how many do you think will earn their way back without me?”

“Five, maybe ten.” The angel sighed.

“Five or ten every fifty years. This place is going to get overpopulated at this rate. That’s not even counting the new arrives. Sure, Earth 7 is a hard place to get into, but it’s an even harder place to leave. Imagine living around murderers and sinners and trying to avoid killing someone. Even if you kill to protect yourself, you’re still technically a committing a sin.”

“God says one must forgive his enemies. As an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

“Fifty years of turning the other cheek is hard. Which is why I’m helping. These people need someone to fear. A threat that makes them uneasy about sinning.”

“Alex, this isn’t the way to do things. You need to trust god’s plan.”

“What plan? We hear nothing from him for thousands of years and then suddenly we all sent to these Earth’s without warning. That was his grand plan? This isn’t what I devoted my life to. God teaches sinners how to grow. He doesn’t throw them into the too hard basket and leave them to kill one another.” Alex sipped his soup, downing the cold liquid and tossing the can onto the floor.

“This is a different way of teaching.” The angel said, picking up the can from the floor, looking for a bin to put it in. When it found none, it simply crushed the can into light. “You still choose to eat, even with immortality?”

“Even if hunger won’t kill me, it still doesn’t feel nice to starve. Plus, one can for me means one less for the others. I plan to weaken them until they are forced to become better people.”

“That isn’t the way. What if you shared the can? Wouldn’t that send a better message?”

“Heh, you angels really don’t have any clue what these people are like. These aren’t people who have just sworn during church or tripped someone over. These are the worst of the worst. People that don’t understand the difference between right and wrong. Suffering is their only way to salvation. They need to experience fear and pain.”

“I don’t think we will see eye to eye on this. I hate to say it, but you won’t be advancing to Earth 6 this time.”

“Mm-hmm. You can just send a letter next time. Don’t bother showing up.” Alex murmured, noticing the hint of a flashlight outside, the light poking through a crack in his wall. The light moving around the back of his house as he crept closer to the wall, peering out of the hole, watching as a small group of looters made their way to his shed.

“Please. I can tell what you’re thinking. Share your supplies with them.”

“You know, maybe you’re right.” Alex said, giving the angel a moment of hope before he reached for a remote underneath the kitchen sink. With the remote in hand, he waited until a looter opened the shed door before setting off the explosives. “Oh, what a shame. Nothing left to share.”

The angel grimaced, unable to look at the destruction. Smoke pouring from where the shed once was. The looters didn’t die, but it would take some time for their bodies to fully heal. Alex opened the backdoor, staring down the group.

“Welcome to hell, newbies. I’m going to torment you until you repent for your sins. If you’re smart, you will take this warning and follow the rules I’ve set. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you never get a moment of rest; you will always be looking over your shoulder for me.”

Alex watched as the group slowly healed, staring at the man in horror before scurrying into the darkness of the night. Alex was certain some of them would be back. Most people that ended up in hell weren’t the type to conform to rules, at least not at first. They would make a few attempts on his life and may even succeed, but without being able to kill him, they could only halt him for so long. Even trapping Alex wouldn’t last forever. The most successful trapping attempt lasting five years until the lock on his cage door rusted, and he broke free.

“You have set up rules?” The angel questioned.

“I have a few posters outside. A few guidelines on how to avoid contact with me. If they behave themselves, they won’t get much trouble from me. It’s the ones that continue their old habits that need to fear me.”

“I see. When you were a religious man, did you believe in the devil?”

“I did. It makes sense that if there is a god, there would be a devil.”

“The devil was never real. At least not until you arrived here. Your tale shares some similarities to the devil’s too. You both serve a similar purpose, although while the devil was a prisoner of hell, you appear to be a warden. I believe you have become the devil of Earth 7. I just wonder if you will stay a warden forever or end up a prisoner, too?”

“I’m no devil. I’ll return to Earth 1 when the evil repents. I just don’t plan to leave until I do god’s job for him. Even the wicked deserve to go to Earth 1. Even if they have to be forced to better themselves.”

“Hm. That answers my question. I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Please do. I need to go check my security camera. This place might look like it’s falling apart, but that’s just to trick anyone stupid enough to enter it. I have traps, a bunker and everything I need to make them repent. You’re just putting me in danger by being here.”

“Very well. Farewell.” The angel shone even brighter, causing Alex’s senses to overload, unable to hear anything but white noise as the angel left him with one word. “Prisoner.” Before vanishing.

     

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

Ben and Maya lay on the rooftop terrace, watching the clouds of Earth 4 drift by above. They’d been best friends for twenty years — since they were kids — and had been waiting for this moment ever since.

“Think they’ll be different on 3?” Maya asked.

”Hm?”

”The clouds. Think they’ll be different? Prettier, maybe?”

He considered. “No. Or, maybe. But I think they’re plenty pretty enough here.”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “Me too.”

It was the evening before judgment. Tomorrow the angels would arrive and deliver certain people to Earth 3, others to Earth 5.

Ben and Maya had spent twenty years preparing for judgment — twenty years of performing good deeds together, trying to buy their ticket to Earth 3. Helping the elderly across roads, feeding the homeless, campaigning for the environment, for animal welfare. Always together.

They lay silent now. Ben wondered if Maya felt a similar unease in her belly. What was causing it? It was as if he could hear the angels singing in the distance, debating their decision about them in an off-key song.

“I hope it was worth it,” said Ben. “We’ve given our lives for this place. If we don’t both make it…”

“Then we’ve improved Earth 4.”

He swallowed back a flash of anger — that hadn’t been what he’d meant. ”Barely. We’ve been constantly sweeping the floor but more dirt is always falling down behind us.”

Maya rolled onto her side and looked at Ben. “You’ve not done it all to escape here. Don’t pretend for a second that’s why you did it.”

“Of course it’s why. It’s why we both wasted our lives here.”

“Wasted.”

”You know what I mean,” said Ben. “We could have done anything else with the years. Stuff for us instead of others, you know?”

She paused a moment then said, ”Did I tell you I saw Leo again the other day?”

”Leo?”

”The junkie you saved with the Naloxone. Except, he’s not a junkie anymore. He had new teeth and showed me a big new smile. He said to pass on his thanks to you.“

”That’s nice,” said Ben, downplaying the emotional gut punch as much as he was able. He’d been certain he’d see Leo’s obituary sooner rather than later.

”He’s working construction now. Does charity work on Saturdays.”

”Huh. Maybe we’ll see him on Earth 3.”

“Ben… I don’t know if I want to go.”

”What?”

”I’ve heard Earth 3 is pretty nice. Calm. Pious.”

“That’s kind of why we’re trying to get there, isn’t it?”

“The bad apples have mostly been left here to rot, and in the realms further down, too. There’s not much wrong on Earth 3 because everyone there wants to make it to Earth 2. Like, they’re actively working on it — being polite and fake and as good as they can be. Here, that’s not the case. Plenty have given up on moving. They’re happy with the grey morality. Some find it more fun, even.“

The unease grew in Ben’s gut. He could hear the angels song better now, louder, and was sure it was the broken melody of rejection — a song he knew well enough, that his own parents had sung when he’d been just a baby.

“This is everything we worked towards, Maya. Please don’t throw it away now.”

”Ben, if we keep going here… If we inspire more people like Leo, then what’s to say this can’t be Earth 3? But better, maybe. Because people want to be here, not just pass through it.”

”And you thought it’d be a good idea to talk about this now? On the evening before judgement?”

She shook her head. “No. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. And I’m sorry I left it so late. But it’s an idea that’d been growing recently. Avalnching even, and now it’s way too big for me to ignore. I hope you can understand that.”

It had been Maya’s idea, back when they’d been kids, to get into Earth 3 together. To help as many people as they could. It was an idea, she’d said, that was too big to ignore. She’d only been nine. They’d been orphans together.

He said, “I’m not going to be able to persuade you to go, am I?”

She shrugged. Her eyes glistened. “I don’t think so.”

“This’ll never be Earth 3,” he said.

”I know… But—“

”Not without us putting in a lifetime of work.“

It took Maya a moment to understand. Up until Ben squeezed her hand.

“You know,” he said, “we’re going to have to rob a bank or something at this point. Or commit a lot of petty crimes.“

Maya laughed. “You can reject the angels, you know.”

”Yeah,” said Ben. “But where’s the fun in that.”

They remained silent, staring at the clouds as the sky reddened. The unease in Ben’s belly was gone — the voices silent. He wondered now what had even been causing the feeling of unease. The thought of leaving, perhaps, rather than the idea of not making it. Either way, it was calm inside him now. As if everything was just how it was meant to be.

“Describe it, go ahead,” Marcus was dead serious, holding out a pencil. “Draw it even.”

“Well, I know I’ll fuck it up then,” Alex said, sparing the pencil a dubious look. “It's like a bowl of fruit, I remember grapes and an apple maybe.”

“But it's not a bowl, is it?” Marcus prodded with a smile, throwing the rejected pen and paper through the bedroom window before himself.

“No,” Alex answered slowly. “It was the old-timey thanksgiving wicker horn thing. A cornucopia? All the fruit’s spilling out of the side of it.”

“And what color is it?” Marcus asked as he stood, eager voice struggling to remain a whisper.

“Brown, yeah. For sure.”

“There you go,” Marcus said with a broad gesture, as though this somehow proved something. “All wrong.”

He held up his phone, a nerdy beacon in the darkness, brightness withering Alex’s retinas. It was a Google search for the Fruit of the Loom logo. It was just a pile of fruit.

Alex winced and rubbed his eyes. “You really came over to my house in the middle of the night to quiz me on underwear logos? They changed it, so what?”

“That’s the kicker. They didn’t change it, been that way since 1893. They still have the die press. There never WAS a cornucopia.” Marcus said, wide eyes pleading in that ‘see it now?’ way of his. “It's completely gone, can’t find it anywhere."

“Wait, what? No way. I distinctly remember that cornucopia. I even still have some of my kid clothes."

"If you find them, it'll just be the fruit."

“Okay, this is weird, I admit, but still not worth you coming over here like this.”

"Lots of theories but I had an idea," Marcus pushed Alex’s junk across the desk and laid down his paper. There was a branching line with a mentally unhealthy amount of notes scribbled every which way.

“This is a little intense, dude.” Alex furrowed a brow and looked his friend up and down. Hints of deranged was a good way to describe his look.

“Just wait!” Marcus traced the line from the right. “Based on when these things happened and looking for a common year, ‘the jump’ happened here, 2005. I looked back and I found the same sort of stuff fifty years before. It doesn’t make sense to us because we’ve had it the current way all our lives, but this one drives really old people crazy. 'A Friend in Need' made in 1903 by Cassius Marcellus Coolidge, know it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, you do, painting of dogs playing poker. Apparently, a lot of people remember one wearing a green poker hat.”

“What’s a poker hat?”

“No clue, but doesn’t matter. From 1955 and on, you can find loads of letters and even a news article about people talking about it. The stuff, usually based around something odd and memorable, is made at the start of a fifty year cycle and forgotten by the next, see the pattern?”

“Okay, yeah but it's just people misremembering. What else would it be?”

“Judgement, grouping by morality. That's why most young people you know are nice. We'll probably get moved up the line in 2055. And why there's all the memes about boomers and Karens, they were old enough in 2005 to be established assholes and get bumped down, whereas we probably got moved up, watching SpongeBob and minding our own business.”

“Okay, now you really do sound nuts, dude.” Alex looked at his bedroom door, considered waking his mom. Marcus didn't notice.

“Every fifty years, God or whatever pushes good people up in a tier of dimensions, probably a line of them, and bad people down the same line. Then he or it comes back, sees new people are born and moves them too. The world’s got shittier and shittier, nobody can argue that. What we call eras are just the time between jumps until a new load of shitty people from the higher dimensions get dumped on us. Generational trauma, sociopathic CEOs, it all stacks, man.”

“So, if I believed you and things keep getting worse. We’re low on the line.”

Marcus nodded eagerly, “Very low, near the bottom probably, but that’s not the crazy part.”

“That’s NOT the crazy part?”

“I found a way out,” Marcus said smugly, throwing a pair of whitey tights on the desk. "Get dressed."

The logo was there, plain as day. The cornucopia spilling with fruit, just like Alex remembered.

/r/surinical

The woman cowered as the giant flaming wheel of eyeballs came down to greet her.

“Be not afraid!” came a booming voice from the wheel. “I am an angel of the lord.”

“The lord!” the woman scoffed, though she still averted her eyes from the being. “The lord has clearly abandoned us!”

“Of course he hasn’t, child. What ever would make you say such a thing?”

“Just look around!” the woman cried, waving her hands.

“Has it really grown so bad?” the angel asked. “It has been half a century since the original sorting, so it may be that this planet is not quite the same as it once was.”

“Well, it’s sure as hell been a nightmare since I was born!”

“Can this truly be so? If it is as you say, then I will remedy the issue. In fact, that is why I am here—the lord has commanded that every 50 years, we angels should visit each one of the 7 Earths, and judge each individual so we may move people to where they belong if it is necessary.”

The woman looked up cautiously, hope beginning to form in her eyes. “You mean, I could get out of here? I could be moved to a different earth?”

The wheel spun in confusion, its thousand eyes blinking rapidly. “But you are already on Earth 1, the planet for the most sinless among you. You would desire to move to a planet for worse sinners? Surely not!”

“Anywhere would have to be better than this!” The woman looked down, clenching her fists. “My life here has been nothing but misery!”

“Tell me of the troubles of which you speak.”

“Well, for starters, I’m a fucking slave!” The woman let out a small sob. “My master beats me and gives me no rest! And my sister was taken away when she was only 10 years old and married to a horrible man who expects her to obey and submit to him! She was only a child! And my brother was taken as well, imprisoned for being gay!”

The wheel blinked again. “I am at a loss as to why this is a problem. As I am sure you know, our lord was quite clear in his words in both the Bible and the Quran that slavery is condoned, and slaves are to be obedient to their masters. Wives also are commanded to submit to and obey their husbands, and our lord has written no rule about the age at which one may be wed. And of course our lord has been clear in his prohibition against sodomy. Those here are merciful that your brother was punished with merely prison rather than stoning! Truly, this is the planet of the sinless.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you that you think any of this is okay?”

“Of course, it is a problem that your brother is here on Earth 1. I shall move him to Earth 5, the planet for fornicators and sodomites.”

“Then move me too! Please!” the woman begged. “I have to get out of here!”

“I may only do so if I find you have sinned enough to belong elsewhere. Our great and merciful lord—“

“Fuck your lord!” the woman screamed.

The angel rotated rapidly in shock, its flames flaring up in anger. “Blasphemy!” it boomed. “The only unforgivable sin according to our lord! You shall be moved to Earth 7, home of the unbelievers!”

The woman began to cry in relief.

"Dad, if only I had the power to help you."

Yuna stares at the old, brownish photograph. Though the years had manifested itself in the bleaks and smudges of the glass, she can still vividly pronounce the figure - the happy smile she has as a child as her father carries her by her arms, and her mother close by her side.

The little girl in the photograph can no longer be discerned with the lady holding the wooden frame. Yuna, now 56, has the only reminder of her past being the scar she has on her right arm. A scar of which origins she can still remember despite the decades of hallowing memories burying it within.

It was a fateful day, of that six year old girl, watching as the angels come down in glorifying, mystical sight. Their robes pure in form, bathed in light, and their faces only barely discernable against the white glow. They come down in sense of fright and wonder upon the crowd looking at them. The whole community around her, and people from far and wide, garnering around them in a line.

She looks at her scar once more, now barely visible from her arm, only slightly pale and tender to the touch. Her mind can hear the voices and cries of people at that day. One by one, they face the terrifying angels in the lines. Some laughed, others cried, and they are all taken away towards the endless skies.

She saw her mother right at the front lines looking back from afar, with tears on her eyes. Her face seems to be in the form of despair, which Yuna then didn't understand. Yuna was carried by her father in his arms, and she can also hear her father's faint cry. Is mother going away too? By then she can't tell, as the angels took her mother away with them.

Her father took her down, and with eyes filled with sadness, knelt down in front of her and touched her face gently.

"Yuna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He held her right arm, and with a knife he held on his other hand, cut her arm lightly with it. She remembers that it hurts a bit, but her father's sudden take to embrace her did not allow her to cry or express any pain.

"Someday, Yuna, you will understand me."

After that, her father walked away from her, and into the line of angels. She was still holding her bleeding wound as she saw her father also taken away. The glow of the angel figures slowly molded into her faded memory.

It was only after all those years she finally understands. The scar, her father's expression, and why it is done. It is a sin, but perhaps a noble one. For she now knew that they both have to be taken away. That her mother was thrown into a lower Earth, and her father also has to go there. The scar is all but a reminder of her father's love, even amidst in front of God's divine judgment.

Yet even knowing so, Yuna felt powerless. If only she had done something, to not lose them, or to at least make them stay here too. The questions over the years flew by. Why was her mother brought into the lower Earth? What has she done? Why did her father did that act? Is he selfish, that he would dare to hurt his own child?

"I have to find them. Maybe they are out there, somewhere still."

She didn't know what Earth they were. She is now in Earth 4, but judging from her dad's act, they are absolutely in a lower Earth. The judgment that is once every 50 years will soon begin by the following month. She must make herself be judged, sinful and be damned. For in the name of love and family, she will be willing to face herself in God's harsh hand.

It only took 50 years.

God was fed up with humanity's problems. God had a solution. He made 6 new planets, similar to the Earth of old. The first one was a paradise, overflowing with milk, honey and sunny weather. The seventh one, well... it got pretty close to how we would describe hell.

And then, in his divine foresight, gave everyone what they deserved.

The worst of the worst went to Earth 7 to suffer, to squirm and writhe.

The best of us went to Earth 1 to prosper and live in absolute bliss.

And - just to be fair - decided that 50 years later a battalion of angels would be dispatched to each Earth to rejudge its population and see if some were deserving to go up... or down.

It... didn't go as planned.

When the angels arrived on Earth 1, they smiled as their eyes feasted on the pleasant meadows and serene forests. They were then stunned and horrified when they realised that if there was anything humanity was good at, it was hubris.

Emboldened with the idea that they were God's chosen, the people of Earth 1 turned to unbridled arrogance. Each would try to prove that they were the most pious, the most deserving of His love. The Church - an already powerful organization - would scrutinize everyone to the smallest of details. To them, it didn't matter if someone was good, only if they were good to them.

Good samaritans who merely tried to help were burned at the stake.

Those who chose to simply live peacefully without bowing to the Church were crushed beneath rocks.

Paranoia set in. Neighbour turned against neighbour, friend against friend.

It took just 50 years for this paradise to turn into an abomination - the pristine white beaches turned red by the blood of the innocent.

​

The angels dreaded coming to Earth 7. If the Earth's best turned to such depravity, would they even find anyone alive where the worst lived?

They came and found the scenery they expected. Some came to call it Asphodel after old greek legend. Fitting, too - lakes of boiling water, scorched earth, darkened clouds.

The people there held zero respect for God's emissaries. They were crass, rude, spat at their feet.

And, in all of that, they were united.

Perhaps it was a moment of clarity for them. Perhaps it was sheer pragmatism. Perhaps... perhaps it doesn't matter. But they made the most of what they could. To survive, they had to band together. To let go of old hatreds. They each worked for the collective, because if they wouldn't... they'd die, one and all. In time, this uneasy ceasefire turned to peace. In time, it turned to friendship.

In this, God made a mistake - an unavoidable one, his foresight clouded by the free will he bestowed upon us.

Humanity could not be judged. The best of us could turn bad; the worst of us could turn good. Because in the end, none of us are good or bad.

We are all just... human.

"A newborn child bear no sins."

--Gol D Roger

The truth is: Nothing intelligently designed is designed intelligently. It takes failure and iterative prototyping to create something worth anything. That's what evolution is. But evolution is slow, tolerable. You'd never know that you were affected by it, how you have changed compared to your fellow man. This system is immediate and very visible.

I was born in year 40. I'm told my mother was born in year 20 a cycle ago, and her mother in year 49 two cycles ago. My cousin was born in March of 49 last cycle. I will never forget my aunt over those 9 months. She seemed happy, yet the melancholy of inevitability hung over us all. On January 1st of 0, this cycle, some were transferred up, some down, some not at all. My aunt wasn't transferred. But every child under two (and most under 6) was immediately transferred to Earth 1. I don't know how my cousin's doing, but she's probably well taken care of. I've heard (though, the source of the rumor is unknown) that disease and pain don't exist in Earth 1, that there are no problems at all. But I know how my aunt is doing.

There are infinite of stories of people losing loved ones who fly or fall. Families infinitely broken and torn apart every 50 years. People recount their grandparents tales of never knowing their own parents. Some people prefer it that way. Its become quite the debate: As a parent, should you take care of your children by guaranteeing they get into Earth 1 if possible, but never see them again? Or is it more ethical to avoid sending your children to paradise but to give them a family instead? The inverse has been known to happen as well. Parents making it to Earth 3 while their 10 year old is left here, or even drops to Earth 5.

Almost no one ends up where they belong. And it takes generations to move from the top to the bottom or visa versa, since the maximum possible number of transfers per person is three. Someone born on 4 like me? If I'd behaved perfectly my entire life, I'd never even see Earth 1. I'd be stuck at 2. But my cousin, god bless her, is in 1, having never made a conscious choice in her life prior to arriving there. And my aunt? She's not on any Earth. Hasn't been since February of 0, this cycle.

It failed.

Of course it failed. It was inevitable. It was a segregation made by someone who fundamentally misunderstood human nature, someone who barely understood their own rules.

It's quite simple really.

The worst people in the world wanted to go up, of course. Not all of them, but enough. They would act how they were expected and get to enjoy the pleasures of the best world.

But the best people did not want to stay around. They would intentionally go below, by any means they could - for the best people were the selfless and the humanists, who would go to hell to help others.

And in the end, it was all the same. The worst raised by the best, the best lowering themselves for the worst.

Perhaps it's better to see it as a success.

Border Rederick was furious when he heard the verdict. He sized himself up against the angel, puffed up his chest and let his mouth run.

"I need more damn time!"

He started waving his finger and pointing it as he huffed, looking for the right words, and running his thoughts through a mental filter that ran with a parameter something like, "You probably shouldn't curse out the angel, it doesn't tend to work for people on earth 7."

He started gesturing his hand into a fist as the veins in his neck began to pop.

"I. WE, have been working our asses off, and you want to move us up now? Why don't we get a say in the matter?"

He paused as his fuming continued.

"How dare you watch from up above, determining right and wrong and them come down here to shake things up. You know nothing about us."

The celestial being had no obvious face, nor did it have any obvious reaction to his words.

Rederick heard some shouts from some of his brothers outside in the hall. They clearly heard his grievances through the door and voiced some support.

And here he was wasting his time with this angel when he had a dozen reformed men he was trying to send out into the masses, to keep fixing up what was broken. His old neighborhood was starting to turn around? Would the few good people there also be evaporated away?

Poof

Rederick woke up from a strange dream and look around the room with a racing heart. He felt the silk sheets against his naked body and immediately relaxed. And there was his beautiful wife next to him. He smiled for a moment, but then his mind returned to the dream, and his smile soured.

Something felt off, something about the dream felt like it was less of a dream, and more of a past.

After a day he realized that he didn't belong on earth 1, his dream wasn't a dream. He had all of the memories of where he'd come from.

His rage returned.

He went out into the streets and shouted for the angel to show itself again, but there was no answer.

"Well then," he said quietly. "I guess I know one way to get back"

After a long and hard 50 years, a much aged Rederick found himself smiling as he woke up in his old home town on earth 7. With the few years he had left he would put his will back to work for his people, no matter how hard they resisted.

Today is the day. THE day. Everyone knew what was supposed to happen. Excitement for some. Apprehension for others. Who would go up? Who would go down?  What was the one thing that would tip the scale?

It's all just a crock of sh*t. I should know. I'm the only immortal stuck down here.

Come to think of it: which Earth am I on this time? 3? 5?

The TV remote dutifully turned on the flat screen across from my bed. "....and turning to our top story: the harbingers are expected to arrive in five hours. Experts still have Consuela Valdez polling ahead of Ayoub Beni for the first to be ascended.  If you will remember: Mr. Beni did rescue nearly all the children from the collapsed orphanage last summer single handedly.  Our analysis suggests however that the years of piety of Ms. Valdez will sway the angels.  Mr. Davidson, what in your opinion will happen later..."

Earth 4. Stuck right in the middle again. People jockeying for position. Betting on the outcome. Not too good. Not too bad. It also explains the hangover.  Good booze. Beer is the way that God shows He loves...

CRRRRACK

"JESUS CHRIST!  Dammit all. Why do you have to only do that when I have a headache?"

"Taking the Lord's name in vain is a sin."

I give the newcomer a crooked smile. "You really are a sanctimonious bastard Gabriel."

The light from his halo obscures the not quite smile. "Are you attempting to sway your fate with your blasphemes?"

"Me? God forbid. I was only startled by your presence. Forgive a poor sinner."

"It is not for me to condemn or forgive your transgressions. Only to convey your message. Do you have it prepared?"

"Yes yes. It's over on the counter. Take it and let me know where I place." He glides over to the kitchen as one of his kind can. "I bet my life I'm going up with that one."

Gabriel's lip curls just a bit before he disappears with my entry: Cain's March Madness Bracket.

"Get Fucked""

The angel looked at me incredulously, before stammering out "I'm sorry?" Its voice was like a light tinkling bell coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, truly beautiful and terrifying. It had many eyes and several wings, and honestly was frightful to look upon, but I glared at it with all the animosity I could muster.

I felt like a trembling mouse before a tiger.

"You heard me, shitbag, go get fucked in the ass, or cloaca, whatever it is you shit from, like I'm sure you fuckers enjoy"

Its color changed, and I knew I hit on something there, but that wasn't the reason I was cursing out the divine being.

"I'm not sure you heard me, I am here to carry you forth to a better pl-"

"I know why you're here," I interrupted, "and I don't want it. I'd rather sit here in the muck and mire with the 'sinners'. My people. You inhuman, unnatural, poor excuse for a sapient, you have no clue. Go fuck yourself and tell your friends about me, too."

I glared at it, and its many eyes stared, back, unblinking. It slowly raised a marble tablet and, maintaining eye contact, proceeded to scratch a long line with some sort of wing/arm thing. They don't precisely have a topology which lends itself well for description. When the angel was done, I felt something cold in my guts, and I knew that I'd be left alone again on Earth 7 for at least another 50 years.

In a terrifying burst of heavenly light and a loud thwip, the being disappeared, and I was left, again, in the dark disease and muck of this horrific world.

I breathed out a ragged breath - the temptation for a better life was always there. Every 50 years, I would get a chance to go to a better earth. To be among those, who, I admit, were like me. I remember my family, my parents, my brothers. I'll admit, I cried a little.

But no, I had no time to self pity. I had work to do.

Outside my office, fire and brimstone lit the hallways, through broken windows. Ash littered the floors and caked the walls, floating on eddies and currents of alternatively too hot and too cold drafts of wind. Demons rampaged the streets of melted tar, cackling and spitting bile as they passed by. People lined the floor, crying, wailing, dirty and diseased, with broken bones, painful cysts, and blood coming out of their ears and eyes, fingernails torn off from their wretched attempts at whatever salvation they thought they could muster.

I looked at all the pain, all the suffering. These people surely deserved it, after all, a god had made this decision, and who was I to question the all-knowing? Still, I couldn't leave this world behind - instead, I left my office, and changed into my scrubs.

In the year 2033, God had grown tired of the conflicts and problems caused by humanity. In an effort to resolve the issues, God created six new Earths, each designed to separate people based on their sins. Earth 1 was reserved for the most virtuous individuals, while Earth 7 was intended for the worst offenders. In this new system, every 50 years, angels would descend to each Earth to reevaluate the inhabitants and determine whether they should remain on their current Earth, ascend to a higher one, or be demoted to a lower one.

As the decades passed, a clear distinction emerged between the various Earths. Earth 1, inhabited by those who had shown great kindness and empathy in their lives, became a utopia of peace and prosperity. People cooperated and learned from each other, and the Earth flourished under a shared sense of collective responsibility. The inhabitants took great pride in maintaining their status as Earth 1 residents and strove to become better versions of themselves.

Earth 2 through Earth 6, on the other hand, represented varying degrees of moral ambiguity. While some individuals made genuine efforts to improve and ascend to a higher Earth, others remained complacent or, worse, actively engaged in harmful activities that threatened to send them spiraling downward. Each Earth had its own unique set of challenges and opportunities, forcing inhabitants to grapple with complex ethical questions.

Earth 7, the realm designated for the most sinful, became a place of chaos and suffering. Those who were condemned to live there faced a harrowing existence, one marred by violence, deceit, and lawlessness. The environment only served to breed further resentment and hostility, making the prospect of redemption all the more difficult.

As the angels arrived every 50 years to reevaluate humanity, they noted the progress and failures of each Earth. Their judgments were fair and unbiased, giving everyone an opportunity to improve their standing or face the consequences of their actions. Over time, the angels observed a gradual shift in the distribution of humanity across the seven Earths, as individuals either rose or fell based on the choices they made.

While the system God had put into place was not without its flaws, it did serve to encourage introspection and self-improvement among humanity. The periodic arrival of the angels served as a reminder to all that their actions had consequences, and that redemption was always possible for those who sincerely sought it. And even though the seven Earths remained separate, the bonds of humanity still connected them in a profound way, with the shared aspiration of becoming better and reaching for the higher Earths that lay before them.

Technology is interesting. It can mean the difference between life and death when you compare your current technological level to people thousands of years ago, who couldn't survive the winter. It can also mean nothing when you're subjected to the whims of someone equipped with better technology. My simple wooden spear won't stand a chance against the future's automatic weapons and targeted drone strikes.

Time is also interesting. When you're outside time, you don't understand how minuscule you are. While you live, entire civilizations die and others are born. Technology advances more than you think. The angels never considered how much the primitive humans might change in just a few generations.

My family used to be part of the elite, a long time ago. We never forgot this. When we grew complacent and started to sin, we were relegated to the lower Earths. But we always remembered. We always knew we would go back. We had to claw our way through the muck of Earth 7, but we made it back. My father spoke to me about it all. The one to finally do it was called David. David's own father couldn't offer him much - he had only garnered a modicum amount of power on Earth 7, but he left it all to his son, along with an idea forged through generations and a name charged with history. A name that was meant to be a prophecy about his son's life.

David took that seed, planted it and watched it bloom. He rejoiced as he saw himself at the top of the empire. He killed thousands and his actions killed millions more. Scum, all of them. They didn't matter. Well, that's not entirely true. They mattered to David. And he did it all by his lonesome. He spared his own son the truth of the situation. He made sure his son was never involved. He cut ties and gave him a chance to be a better man. Whatever that means in a world like Earth 7.

And right as he put a bullet in his head, only a few years before the angels were to visit us, he reached out to his own son and left him in charge of everything. He explained that his final wish was that everything that David had worked to accomplish should be used for good. Should be used to better those around them. An empire, dedicated to better the lives of others. An empire that would buy a ticket to Earth 6 or 5 for the kinder-hearted future emperor, David's son.

It only grew from there. We clawed our way back to the surface. Back to Earth 1. Back to a place where everyone thrives. Where we can enjoy life's pleasures and where we can be safe. But it was never about safety or pleasure. Because while the last few hundreds of years were bliss, the chain of events set in motion a long time ago never stopped. We never lost our purpose, we never failed to see God and his armies for what they are - the cruel dictatorship that destroyed our family and so many others. That sentenced us to death, and forced us into seeking revenge.

50 years ago, the angels came. Earth 1 received them happily, with me at the forefront of the festivities. 50 years ago today.

I had my work cut out for me gathering enough power and adepts. Our Earth's technological advances were the work of my father and grandmother. They did all they could to advance humanity. All I had to do was show the others that we are god's chosen. Maybe play on their insecurities a little. Exploit the fear of being relegated to Earth 2, or worse. And before long our ships are ready, we had wormholes in place towards all other Earths.

It ended as soon as it began. All other Earths were inferior. It was a bloodbath, and our supporters at home received news that we had taken charge, but would need backup. They sent the small remainder of the fleet that should have been there to defend them. We captured the ships and made our way back to Earth 1.

As I'm sitting here waiting for the skies to break and the angels to come down, I can't help but be giddy with excitement. I want them to see what their pride has wrought. I want to smile before I die. I want them to look upon the last survivor from all Earths, and see the conviction in my eyes. I want them to know it ended with me. Because of me. At my command and due to my actions.

I want them to look upon the bloodied streets and feel all the suffering that took place just days ago. I want them to look at the sky and see the remains of battling ships, and pieces of the world's fleet. I want them to look upon the mountains and read the millions of names inscribed upon the trees and the rocks - a wish I made sure came true, for David's sake. Millions of the worst kinds of people, forever inscribed now on this Earth. I want them to taste the irony of an Earth that never knew these people, an Earth that never cared about them, now remembering them forever.

I want the angels to have to sit in awe and understand that they did this. That they planted the seed throughout my family line. That they forced us to do horrible things to survive, all for the sake of arbitrary rules. That they turned us into what we are.

A small gesture, perhaps. But our race was never meant to fight God. We're simply insects. We can only die at the hands of our betters. My family always refused to accept that. And now, I die free.

(WP) To finally solve all problems caused by humans, God made six new earths, to separate everyone depending on their sins, Earth 1 being for the best people and Earth 7 for the worst sinners. Every 50 years, angels arrive and re-judge people to decide if they should stay, go up or down.

And they appear without warning. You'll be working, jogging, sleeping or even bathing and suddenly one will be there ready to escort you to "The Tunnel", for your sentence.

I was laying on my couch, after a frustrating day at work with a bunch of imbeciles, who didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground. Especially this real jackass, who thought he knew everything and me, his boss, knew nothing just because I was new.

I felt like a cat wrangler on a cheap movie set. I'd tell one where to go and what to do, and move onto the next when the first returns with a baffled look on his face asking, "Now what did you say to do?". Ughhh.

I couldn't wait to go home. I wasted no time rushing to my little sleeping room over a crappy neighborhood bagel shop. I unlocked the door, hurried in and kicked my sweaty, hot workboots off, pulled my nasty socks off and collapse on my couch, wiggling my cramped toes loose with relief. I had just closed my eyes and was rubbing my temples dreading tomorrow when the room got real cold, like the air conditioner had kicked on.

I raised my head and was instantly startled, standing by my front door, was this huge, and I do mean huge, beast. It had the large mane and head of a lion, and the body of someone who had taken a mega dose of steroids their entire life.

On his feet were gold shoes with little wings at the heels, fluttering and behind him stood these ginormous set of beautiful, snow white wings attached at his shoulder blades, softly flapping back and forth, producing this chilling breeze that rivaled any ac unit.

I started to scream as I sat up in fear, and this Lion Angel quickly held up his hand as if to stop me, and I lost my voice. I was screaming but nothing came out. The beast then waved his hand at me in a downward motion and my body instantly complied and drop to the couch. Fear raged through me. I knew what the beast wanted and why he was here. It was my turn to go.

For millennia, I have served the divine order as an angelic judge, tasked with the sacred duty of redistributing the souls among the Seven Earths. Earth 1, the celestial realm of the virtuous, was reserved for the most holy and righteous. Earth 7, the final and lowest plane, housed the worst of the sinners.

Over the course of six months, I diligently worked to assess the souls on Earth 7, granting upgraded passports to those who had genuinely repented and sought redemption. Many petitioned for the chance to ascend to Earth 6, or even higher, to escape the darkness that engulfed their world.

And then I met Adriel, a paragon of virtue who stood out like a beacon of light amidst the shadows. As I examined their life, I was astounded by their unwavering commitment to kindness and compassion, even in the face of overwhelming darkness. Adriel was a rarity, a soul deserving of Earth 1.

Yet, when I offered Adriel passage to the highest plane, they refused.

"I wish to remain here on Earth 7," Adriel said, "to guide others towards the light and help them find the path to redemption."

I tried to convince Adriel otherwise, reminding them of the serenity and splendor that awaited them on Earth 1. However, Adriel's resolve remained unshaken, and their words slowly began to resonate within me.

"By staying here," Adriel continued, "we can bring hope to those who have lost their way. We can show them that redemption is possible, and help them ascend to higher Earths."

Adriel's selfless dedication to the forsaken souls of Earth 7 struck a chord within me. For the first time in my existence, I questioned the divine order, the very essence of my being. The thought of relinquishing my wings to join Adriel in their quest to uplift the sinners of Earth 7 took root in my heart.

After a long and arduous contemplation, I made a decision that would alter the course of my eternal existence. I chose to give up my wings and remain on Earth 7 with Adriel.

Together, we embarked on a journey to guide the lost souls towards redemption, to teach them the virtues of compassion and forgiveness, and to prove that even in the darkest corners of the universe, hope could still prevail.

"Brother, if you are reading this, then I have failed. Know that for fifty years I have tried to undo what was done that fateful day. I have tried my very best to be patient. To have faith that we would be reunited. To live the life that would see us together again. I am weak. Momma. Momma saw it. It gnawed at the both of us left here without you. She ached at the punishment that you were so wrongly sentenced. It was unfair. Unjust. It ate at her body. And my soul. You must have been so much better than us to be reading this. To have had more faith that we would be together as a family again. You sacrificed to protect us. I couldn't take that chance. She loved you. Loved me. Please take some solace that it was her choice. A hope that the scales would somehow balance. She knew the cancer would take her before you returned. Knew that we would never be whole. It was her faith that you would come back to us. To me, alone. But I am weak without either of you. In the end I think it was her gift to me. A death for a chance at life again.

I love you always, lil' sis."

The letter lay cold and still on the table. I couldn't understand. It was impossible. Unreal. Fifty years. To be back here again, in this house. Again with death separating us. I strove so hard. For fifty years, being the very best. Striving to make up for that choice to protect them from his rage that day. I knew the risk. I knew the consequences. I couldn't allow you to be hurt anymore. That hate. Hate that he could harm you both. Hate that he could reject the love of his family. To strike with tongue and fist. Fifty years to let go of that fury that drove me to kill him. I want to do it again. To strike him down before he could tear our family apart. No. Come back to me. Momma. Sister. I've been so alone.

“You’ve got to be joking!” the citizen looked stressed.

“Rules are rules”

The angel looked unbothered.

“You can’t just change the rules and not give us time”

The angel takes the citizen’s palm.

“We had to make minor adjustments to the judging system, it made no sense to only consider acts of goodness and not intentions as well. What benefit is it to act kind because you have to BE kind. That just sends the wrong message”

the angel puts on a cocky smile -at least it looked that way to the citizen- and continued.

“For example, you’re not a good person, you just do the bare minimum to appear good. You didn’t volunteer your time to the elderly because you were good. You did it because you didn’t want to stay at home with your family. You hated every moment in your home and that just won’t do.”

The citizen sighs.

“But, I was still volunteering, I made a difference to those I helped”

“Perhaps! but now your family resents you. 40 years of absence does that to a person.”

The citizen panics.

“I can make it right with them. Just give me more time”

The angel ponders for a while.

The citizen looks hopeful.

“You will all have more time, resentment gets you a downgrade as well. You and your family will be moving to Earth 5!”

The angels voice booms through the Earth, the citizen bleeps out of sight.

The angel looks straight ahead at the anxious crowd “Who’s next?”

It’s about to be a stressful day for citizens of Earth 1.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]