Writing | Art By Logovend.com

Twin Towers

I tried to speak but couldn't.
   All I could do was join the end of a long queue. Some of my work colleagues were ahead of me, already lined up. I could see giant gateways in the distance.
   I didn't know what these queues were for but for some reason I'd known which one I was meant to join. This intuition was disconcerting. My muteness was disconcerting. There weren't many things I was happy about.
   I moved steadily forward in silence. No one else was talking. I figured they were also all as mute and as disconcerted as I.
   A large hall full of shocked people. Some I knew. More I didn't.
   The hall felt too large like classical music.

Without speech all I could do was observe the queues. Logic dictated that if we were all mute and I had known which queue to join, and everyone was mute then they would have also known which queue to join. Therefore the queues held the clue to where I was, the collective muteness and what awaited us.
   Quickly scanning the queues it seemed to have something to do with race, but then in an Asian looking queue to my right I spotted three white people, and six queues to my left I spotted a complete melting-pot queue, and craning to look down my own queue I spotted women and men of different ethnicity.
   I came to the conclusion that it was something to do with social standing. They seemed to be hardened faces in one queue and softer face in another.
   As I shuffled forward I spotted a child in one of the queues. Was there meant to be children in this building?

As I approached the gateway at the end of the queue I heard a voice of authority.
   “Good, left ... good, left ... bad, right ... good, left ... bad, right ... bad, right ... good, left ... good, left.”

Then it struck me, the queues were separating religions and that's when I knew I was dead.
   It was the day of reckoning but before I had chance think of all the good and bad I had done in my life I was at head of my belief-queue.
   “Good, left.”

Through the many doors leading into the Good Room people of all ages, beliefs, races and social backgrounds entered, including my friends, family and work colleagues. The belief-queues had been a ruse. All corridor led to one single room. No one had been right or wrong. Just good or bad. Simplicity makes you smile.
   We realised we could all talk again it seemed like everyone knew someone through someone else. Introductions were made and in an imperceptibly short space of time everyone seemed know everyone else.
   At this point we heard a loud, rich-timbered voice over the many conversations.

“Okay. Okay. Well done, good folks. You've passed the test. You're all good. Good people are rewarded and this reward, well, it's real simple, you get to decide what heaven is like between you. I mean to say, it's a joint decision. It can be absolutely anything you want it to be. But there needs to be a definite consensus. We can't go ahead otherwise. I'm sure you understand. I'll speak to everyone in turn to answer any questions you might have. In the meantime have a chat with friends old and new.”

Our host immediately started talking with the people next to him.
   Eventually he'd made his way over to our group and I asked, “if this is what happens in heaven what happens in hell?”
   “A common one, kid. That's simple, same deal.”
   “The same deal? That doesn't seem fair.” I said.
   “Ah yes, but consider this, they can never agree. Hell is not agreeing to create heaven.”

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