Free short stories about Generation End

Posts Tagged ‘heaven’


aliens in the afterlife

The most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life was a sunrise when I was eighteen years old. It was in Noosa, and it was four in the morning, and the sea looked like crumpled pastel crayons. The most beautiful song I’ve ever heard was a song whose title I’ll never know, whose tune I’ll never remember: all I’d told myself is to remember that this song is beautiful, and that no other song will ever be better.

“And what’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen?” Christie asked me.

“I don’t know.”

“I guess, since you’ve decided that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen was a sunrise, you can pretty much assign anything to be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen.”

I looked at the date on my phone. “We’ve been with each other for a long time now.”

She smiled, her eyes closed. “Oh, have we?”

“Do you think there’s such a thing as ‘the one’? Or do you think most partners are essentially replaceable?”

“Well if you think about all the people in the world – what are the chances of meeting someone who meets your standards, who’s of the right age, who’s of the right sex, who can put up with you until your age and all that? What, one in seven billion?”

“I want to know you in the afterlife.”

“Know me, or be with me?”

“What are the rules of the afterlife? What will we become? Orbs? Angels?”

“Not angels,” Christie said.

“Why not?”

“Angels were there before we were around.”

“Well can’t there be new ones?” I turned and faced her. “We’ll probably see aliens in heaven.”

We lay in silence a bit.

“You know,” I said. “For a while I was excited to die.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No I mean, in heaven, pain will be over. And if you’re the type who doesn’t believe in heaven, pain will still be over. But won’t pain continue in heaven?”

“The important thing is to keep things simple. Love people. That’s it.” Christie sat up. “Let’s have a simple conversation. Let’s post photos of food on Instagram.”

We went for a drive and found a dessert restaurant Christie had always wanted to eat in. She took photos, and I thought about jerking off.



Show I’m watching: Black Mirror


the afterlife of the afterlife

“You know,” she smiled slightly, starting to say something but then stopping — her mind drifted somewhere, to some man or drama maybe.

“You know what?”

“The afterlife, eternity… like, even when people talk about afterlife and eternity. It scares me.”

“It scares me too.”

Vail exhaled smoke from her nostrils as she killed her cigarette. She texted someone something and then put down her phone, leaning it against my bowl of coins. “You know it’s not good when the only two people in a room are scared.”

“Good, because we’re on a balcony.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I never know what you mean.”

She slapped my shoulder. “One person always has to be the brave one. Shouldn’t you be the brave one?”

“That’s sexist.”

I watched her phone glow, then vibrate, then topple off the edge of my bowl. She picked it up, glanced at it, muttered, “Instagram,” then put it back down.

“I’m brave, but not all the time.”

“You need to be brave all the time.”

I loved and despised Vail. She’s the type who would ditch her friends for her man. She’s the type who wouldn’t speak to you for months, but would drive fifteen hours for you if it was truly urgent. I watched the view from the balcony for a moment before picking up an iPad from the chair between us and playing some folk song on Spotify that sounded like it had a point about something.

The afterlife can be an intimidating place. I’ve often wondered what eternity would be like. Hell would be pretty shitty. And heaven — as beautiful as it is, what would eternal happiness be like? And when we “look down on people from heaven,” does that mean we have to watch over people all the time? Even when they’re sleeping, reading books, all that mundane shit? Why were we never given the choice to be born or not? Why put us in the risk of suffering, of going to hell, of living forever? Christie told me that heaven is a place to look forward to, that when people die, it’s for the better, because in heaven, nobody suffers. Is that true? Why were fallen angels so anxious? Or is heaven something we work towards in the present moment, something that we, over time, learn to obtain to experience in any given time?



My book is now available for free shipping