Heaven is Full of Arseholes

THE ASCENT

  The Father seemed to lift through the wreckage like steam from an engine’s bonnet at the end of a long arduous drive on an icy cold eve. As he went with the currents of time; part of a billion particles sharing the work in assuming the bridge of his ascent from one life to the next, The Father looked down and saw a million lights flashing and hundreds of pressed people, rushing about with worry at the tips of their fingers and a seasoned dread in their hearts for their eyes were scorned with useless tragedy.

  He wondered to himself what all the commotion was about. They all looked so frantic, yet he was so far removed from the sting of their desperation. He simply watched the scene unfold like catching the tail of a foreign film; allowing his eyes to dress against the color and drama but understanding nothing of what had happened until this point, hearing nothing of what was being spoken and not knowing if while he was watching this play of light and sound, whether he should laugh out loud or cry sullenly.

  He saw; in the final flash of sight before his eyes were blinded white, the image of three black bags or what looked like, three black holes, haloed by a bright beam of light that emanated from a large van with flashing light and placed neatly on the road, side by side.

  Then a whiter white flooded his sight.