You're all going to face it someday, the strangest oddest feeling, empty and alone ... standing outside your body, staring into the lifeless shell of your former self. We've all looked into a mirror; this is different, way different. You've never seen yourself from the outside, how others see you. It changes your perspective, for better or for worse … I guess that depends.

I died two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, never making it to manhood. People were crying, classmates I hadn't known. I didn't know they knew my name. Guilt tightened my heart. I should have taken more time, put in a greater effort to know them. I was wrong to stay so hidden all those years.

The gymnasium was packed full. People made me nervous. It'd always been that way. The fear of being the center of attention followed me into death. You’d think when you die everything about you that was broken gets fixed. It doesn't work like that. The crap you drag with you only gets bigger. My advice, clear your slate, leave nothing unfinished.

They hung my football jersey next to my picture. A banner stretched across the gym, a pink heart with # 81 inside. Coach talked to a group of students and parents sitting on metal folding chairs about my work ethic and what a team player I was. It was kind of him, but from his clichéd speech, he didn't know the real me.

They ushered in the family … my family. Attending your own funeral, they don’t prepare you for that. Mother’s body shook, held up by grandmother, heavy from the weight of losing a son to tragedy. Grandma was a rock … but not today. No parent should have to bury a child, let alone a grandparent. Dad followed behind, hand on mom’s shoulder, eyes cast forward above the casket, unable to look directly. They took their seats and I floated over, looking into each pair of eyes, trying to find the heart. I couldn't … it was gone.

I turned, face clenched in agony, unable to stop the crying. I let them down. Logic tells you that getting murdered isn't your fault, but a piece of you feels like it is, like you could have prevented your fate had you been a better person, had you taken a better path. My family would never know the truth. I didn't die in a crash. I was murdered. Truth could have given purpose to my death, a way for them to turn their anguish into action.

The angst you feel when watching a loved one experience that level of pain will cause you to wish for annihilation. Hell was bad, watching my family was a nightmare. The only thing holding me upright was knowing the culprits would be held accountable for the pain they created. Remorse will drown them one day, causing great repentance; maybe eons from now, but judgment will come to pass.

Principal Johnson offered his sympathies and thanked everyone for coming before inviting Justin to the stage. My spirit followed closely behind as he stumbled on his way to the platform. It was unlike Justin to be so nervous in front of a crowd, maybe he was sorry. True remorse causes the soul to tremble.

"Thank you all for attending.” I stood next to Justin as he looked upon the mourners in the crowd. “It would mean a lot to Will to see everyone here. I believe he is with us today, smiling." Justin began his eulogy.

"Yeah bro, I'm right behind you, but you're wrong about the smiling part." I whispered into his right ear, forcing a stutter.

"Um, he ... Will is, was, is ... a good person, one of the best I've known.” Justin shook. “It took time and effort to get to know Will. He liked privacy, but once he let you in, it was well worth the effort. When I moved here two years ago I didn't know a soul. I admit I approached Will because he looked lonelier than me. We hit it off right away. My only regret, I got but two years with him. William Stark had no enemies."

"Except for you," I whispered into Justin’s left ear. He paused, stumbling over his words, sensing a negative vibration.

"Will was one of those people who was easy to like. His quiet kindness made you drop your guard around him. You could talk to him about anything. He was a gentle listener." Justin said.

"I can smell the crap coming out of your mouth. Brush your teeth. It's disgusting." I said before looking out into the crowd. Randy was in the third row, crying. I always thought nothing bothered him. Justin's words moved a lot of people in the gymnasium. If Justin was lying, faking his remorse, he was one hell of an actor.

I can’t believe Justin had the nerve to speak at my funeral. He did nothing to prevent my death. It’s was Corbin’s hand and knife that severed the silver cord tying my spirit to its earthly body, ending my final breath ... but Justin was just as guilty. My blood covered his soul. Curse the day I got involved with Justin and Corbin and their bedeviled Project Gateway. Gateway was meant to bring salvation to the lost, at least that's what they lead me to believe. I was destined to enter the spirit world a crusader of the damned, instead Gateway became the orchestrator of my destruction. I regret the day I didn't grab the nearest blunt object and destroy Project Gateway when I first set eyes on it.

Principal Johnson thanked Justin for his words and talked about how Millersville had seen too much tragedy, how it needed time to heal. I'd like to think his words reached the hearts of the students. Young people are the keys to change, elders are set in their ways. Maybe someday Millersville would break from its intolerance and closed mindedness that the Puritan movement worked so hard to spread.

Justin hugged classmates after my funeral. People thanked him. The aggression in my body swelled to boiling. Justin was a murderer, not a source of comfort. I screamed for people to listen but no one heard.

The gymnasium slowly emptied. I followed Justin home after the last piece of cake had been served, riding in his car, a ghost in the passenger seat. Unable to fight the heinous thoughts, my hands gripped firmly down on Justin's neck, inflicting a slight tickle in his throat. He reached for a cough drop, like that could save his wretched soul.

The phone rang from the console next to him. "Corbin, I wasn't expecting to hear from you." Justin's voice cracked as he swallowed the remains of the half chewed lozenge. A soft, “ok,” his only remaining utterance.

Justin pulled into his driveway and removed the key from the ignition. I stood outside his bedroom window, reluctant to follow. Frost lined the edges of the glass pane, the earth cold and hard. Almost a year had passed since Justin and I walked down the worn gravel road leading to the old Victorian house that held the mysteries of Project Gateway in its dingy basement.

Creeping in the darkness and hiding in the shadows, I watched Justin's movements. He wasn't the confident person I'd known in life. He was changed, afraid of something.

Part of me felt sorry for Justin, a slave, brainwashed and robotic. His future held no promise. After a life of slavery, death would be the same. An eternity of servitude to the unholy, unless he was resurrected; the reason I was here. When you die they send you back. Some sort of mission training, Code of the Resurrectionist, at least that’s what John told me.

Justin was in too deep to simply walk away. In time, Corbin would take him out, unwilling to risk Justin exposing Gateway and all its dark secrets. I needed Justin's attention. I'd learned a few tricks during my time at the Richmond farmhouse. A time I recall with horrid disgust. The Browning's lived in a house that favored me. It owned a history, a dark past. Vile spiritual residue permeated the atmosphere. The perfect storm for a haunting.

Justin was alone in his room, surfing the web on his iPad when I passed through the wall like a vapor. Pacing the room, I circled Justin before crouching behind his body, blowing a cold wind down the back of his neck. Justin sat up, scanning the bedroom. I stepped back, moving to his right side I ran my hand up his arm to his shoulder. He didn't notice. I needed something bigger. I stepped to an empty water glass sitting on Justin's desk, took a deep inhale and focused my will on moving it. Nothing happened.

Try his thoughts, a voice sounded from within.

"Justin. It's Will, I'm right beside you." No response. Justin walked to his desk and sat down at the computer. I stood behind him before moving into his neural pathways and finding the connections that controlled his fingers. I placed Justin’s hands on the keyboard and pressed down hard before lifting his eyes to the screen.

I'm here, Will. The words flew from my mind through Justin’s fingertips and onto the computer screen.

Justin jolted up from his chair, head shaking. "Will?"

"Get back to your computer, ya dingbat. It's not like we can talk. Sit, write." I said, even though his human ears couldn't perceive my spirit voice.

Justin moved back to his computer. Good, I come as a messenger, not as a friend. You're in danger. You need to leave, get away from Corbin before it's too late, now let your mind go blank. Let me write through you. I projected my thoughts.

Justin broke his hands from the keyboard and stared out into his room. "Will, are you here? If you really are … I'm so sorry." He spoke out loud.

"Save it bud, I'm not looking for sympathy. I'll deal. You're alive, I'm dead, end of story." Justin couldn't hear my voice, even though I desperately wished he could.

"I can't just pick up and leave, you know that. The police are keeping a close eye on me, taking a closer look than I'd like. I spoke at your funeral today. I'd been asked to say a few words about you. You were a good person, Will. I played you, we both did. I see that now. Corbin and I were wrong." Justin said. I stepped back, pacing the room before looking up at Justin's computer. The words on the screen were from his speech, the eulogy about me.

"Sorry about the accident. We had to stage it, make it look like you fell asleep at the wheel and hit that tree. Please forgive me Will." Justin's face fell forward, wrought with guilt.

***

I fled before emotion took control. Being around Justin was like breathing in asbestos; his toxic aura darkened my judgment. Standing outside, I closed my eyes to meditate upon my home in the city of light. The growl of an engine broke my concentration. I opened my eyes and saw the silhouette of a large figure climb into the driver's seat of a dark van parked two blocks away. It was evident I wasn't the only one interested in Justin's affairs. I floated over to the van and climbed in.

Oddly, I was calm. You'd think crawling into the passenger seat next to the man who murdered you would cause at least a slight ripple in your blood pressure. I looked squarely at Corbin, his big belly hung over the seat belt strap, creating rolls of fat that oozed and jiggled with each bump on the gravel road. His beard had become long and scraggly, entrapping the remains of a leftover tuna melt. The sight repulsed me but had a way of reducing my fear. Seeing Corbin for who he really was, an overweight coward, almost made me feel sorry for him.

The van was immaculate, not a speck or crumb could be found. If he spent half as much time taking care of his inner-self as he did his outer environments, he wouldn't be half as disgusting.

I'd never been to Corbin's home until we pulled into the driveway of a modest one story rambler. The exterior appeared well kept, a fresh coat of white paint glowed in the moonlight. Corbin didn't strike me as the handy type. He must have hired the work done.

Corbin opened the front door and stepped inside. I passed through the wall as spirits do. He walked by the refrigerator without stopping, sitting at a computer, listening with focused unease to a monotone police scanner broadcast. A book with a picture of a winged man resembling an angel holding a sword made of fire rested on the corner of his desk. Corbin reached down, pulling a second book from the drawer. I moved behind him, looking over his shoulder. I swallowed disbelief when my eyes read the name at the top of the page ... Ezekiel.

I glanced around the room, a picture of Corbin hung on the far wall, a younger and slimmer version. He was a holding a diploma of sorts. I stepped closer, it was a confirmation certificate. Corbin was a Puritan.

I looked back at him sitting behind his desk, head bowed and hands folded. Darkness hung over him, a cloud of black. I could see his prayers. They formed shapes and symbols of light that floated up, but were blocked by the darkness, consumed by black before ever going out.

His lack of faith is preventing his prayers from reaching the father. My inner voice rang out.

Corbin was praying out of repetition drilled into him from an early age. His prayers were superficial. The black mass hanging above seemed to be emanating from inside, from within his soul.

I blew on the back of his neck, a common trick spirits use to get the attention of humans. Corbin looked up and raised his head. A tingling went from his neck down his spine, unable to shake the feeling he was not alone.

"I find your lack of faith deeply disturbing," I whispered into his left ear, channeling my best Darth Vader.

"I find your disregard for privacy equally disturbing." Corbin spoke into the air. I jolted back. His ability to hear me was astonishing. If he had the gift of clairaudience he must’ve kept it hidden from the world, at least he hid it from Monika and I.

"Who are you?" Corbin asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I retorted.

"You work for Sunny?" he asked.

"Yes," I lied.

"Did he send you?"

"Yes," I lied.

"What does he want? What do you want? They know about the girl." Corbin said.

"Your soul." I deepened my voice to sound as evil as possible.

"It's not for sale." Corbin said.

"Who said I wanted to buy it?"

"You can't have it!" Corbin snapped.

"I’m not the type who pays, more of a taker." I snarled.

"That wasn't part of the deal. Sunny assured me my soul would owe no debt." Corbin said.

"Let me tell you about my master. He takes what he wants, when he wants it. He'll say anything to further his agenda. You'll be his slave for eternity." I ignited a fire in Corbin. Sweat formed on his brow, heart rate increasing along with blood flow. He fidgeted in his seat before standing up.

"Get out!" He shouted and fled the room.

"I'm going no where." I followed.

Corbin grabbed a Bible from his kitchen table, unaware I was a creature of light and didn't fear the Good Book. The Bible wouldn't hurt me, but I didn't want to blow my cover. I let out a guttural growl as Corbin swung the book, flashing it around the room.

"Cast ye back to the fires of hell, dark spirit!" Corbin shouted. I opened my fingers, revealing knife-edged nails. I swung hard at Corbin's face, slashing three scratches into his cheek.

Black smoke filled the room in a flash. A heavy gravitational pull bore down on me, a mistake to lash out. Violence of any kind was never tolerated by inhabitants from the realms of light. Vulnerability and mental imbalance could cause my fall to hell if I wasn't careful. I departed before all self-control was lost, charged emotion shattering the lamp bulb next to Corbin, causing a violent gust of wind that left him shaking on the floor of his modest one story rambler.

I stopped outside, fighting to gain control over the darkness that consumed from within.

Headlights reflected off the kitchen window as I stood in the moonlight like a midnight stalker on Corbin’s front porch. Justin stepped out before walking up the front steps and knocking.

"Where the hell you been!" Corbin threw the front door open, grabbing Justin’s shoulders.

“You look horrible. What happened?” Justin asked, pulling away.

"We have to get the lab. There's work to do." Corbin replied.

"I can’t … did Will's service today. I don't have the energy right now. I gotta tell ya man, speaking of Will-"

"We’ve got a problem." Corbin cut Justin off, stepping to him with vexed intensity, faces inches away.

"What problem?" Justin stepped back, stumbling slightly on the top step.

"The police, they found her body."

I ascended to the realms of light above the earth after gaining some control over the negative emotions clinging to my heart. Basically, I just stuffed them back down to their home deep within my soul. Always a temporary solution, I knew they'd be back, like trying to lock the door on a hoard of zombies, they’ll always break through. The experience left me drained, seeing Justin and Corbin, my family, my funeral. I needed to heal. I wasn't an advanced spirit, just a newborn taking it's first step into the light.

I approached Monika who stood alone in the courtyard, her custom bright glow reduced to dimness. "You're no longer a missing person." I said.

"I heard about that." She replied, not making eye contact.

"You going to the funeral? It's weird."

"I can't. It's too much. I can't look into their faces." Monika scanned the ground, trying to find beauty in the morning glories at her feet, but an aura of sadness told the truth.

"I understand. It's not easy." I reflected her feelings. “How’s your family doing?”

“My poor father, I’ve heard he hasn't gone to work since his baby girl went missing." Monika said.

“Sorry, I mean, that was a stupid question." I looked away.

"It's ok, Will. I know your heart. Your intentions are well meant. To be honest, I don't know. I can't bring myself to check on them.” Monika trembled while speaking, her eyes remained cast toward the ground.

"Would you like me to go, you know, look in on them?" I asked.

"Would you Will? It would mean a lot.”

"Of course." I said, seeing Monika’s face for the first time as I reached out to touch her shoulder. Her straight blonde hair fell forward before her blue eyes faded, gluing themselves back to the flowers as I stepped away.

It was too soon to go back but I owed it to Monika. I could never repay her for all she'd done. I left the courtyard and the city of light, willing myself to the home of Monika's earthly parent's. Always a difficult task to leave love and breathless beauty, trading it for the chaotic mess that is planet earth.

Two police officers walked up the steps to the front door of the Kingsbury's house. I stood next to a rose bush, reading one of the officer's thoughts. He was new to the job. A nervousness ran through both legs before stepping slightly behind his senior officer, using him as a human shield from the emotion soon to burst.

The senior officer knocked on the door. I could see through the walls of the house as if they were made of glass. Monika's mother sat up from her slumped over position at the kitchen table. Her quivering hand and delayed reaction told me she wasn't expecting company. The lump in her throat and deliberate swallow told me her heart was filled with the false hope that it might be Monika knocking.

"Mrs. Kingsbury, my name is officer Olson. This is officer Carter. May we come in?" Monika's mother's eyes filled with dread. She didn't need a fortune teller to know what was coming.

"My baby," she whispered. Officer Olson gave a heartbreaking nod, unable to choke the word, yes. Monika's father caught his falling wife before she hit the ground. He held her tight as she wailed and convulsed on the floor. Her body formless, all muscle control lost.

"We need you to come to the coroner's office and identify the body." Officer Olson said after great pause. Neither Monika's father or her mother spoke. "Take your time." Officer Olson motioned for officer Carter to wait in the squad car while he stood in the doorway as both parents sat catatonic on the hardwood floor.

A second squad car arrived. One male and one female officer entered the home. Forty minutes passed before Monika's father emerged. Officer Olson escorted him into his vehicle. I hopped in the backseat.

"We're sorry for your loss." Were the only words spoken the entire drive. I followed the three men into the coroner's building, feeling my stomach constrict like a wrung out dish cloth. I didn't want to see her, even though it wasn't really her, not anymore. There's something final about it, seeing the body, knowing you'll never return to it.

The room was icy and callous, cold stainless steel lined the shelves, void of anything that resembled love. Monika's body had been laid out on a metal table, pale blue, green algae strewn throughout her golden hair. Monika’s lips were white, the wound that claimed her life turned black with infection.

I bent at the waist, clenching my sour middle, trying to clear the image from my mind.

Monika's father didn't falter, he looked for two, maybe three seconds. "Yes," he said before turning to walk away.

***

I sat next to Justin in the rickety old fishing boat the night he dumped Monika's body into the Bear Creek river. He was a mess. It took him six hours to wrap her body in plastic garbage bags. He tied it with chain and two cinder blocks. His hands shook so vigorous he couldn't grip the rip cord to start the boat, that and he never bothered to check that the motor was out of gas. Justin used oars to row himself and Monika's body to a point of depth in the river. Bear Creek isn’t known for it's calm. Justin was tossed around like a toy. A section of chain wrapped itself around a log, pulling Monika's body to the bottom. It only took eight days for that same rough current to break her body free and send it floating to the campgrounds.

Justin couldn't row back against the current. His boat was pushed three miles down river. He had no choice but to call Corbin, who picked him up and hauled the boat home. Justin almost joined us as a spirit that night after Corbin learned of his botched attempt to cover up the murder.

I couldn't stay in the coroner's office any longer. The memory of that horrid night left a pit in my stomach and an unease I needed to get rid of. I escaped through the walls of the building as spirits do. Standing outside in the parking lot, rain had pooled next to a rusty pickup truck where the pavement started to crack, reminding me how broken and fragile the physical world can be.

It's odd, standing in the rain and not getting wet. I didn't miss it at all. I was glad to be free from the world and all it's cruelty. Seeing Monika's body didn't bring searing anger like it did that night in the boat, it left me dumbfounded, man's inhumanity to mankind.

***

"You saw them?" Monika asked after I returned to her. "Tell me, Will. Were they ok? Please tell me they were ok." I shook my head, unable to lie. Monika shook as I reached a hand to her. Words are useless in a moment like this, they get in the way. Time ceases, you stay with the person as long as it takes, for however long the emotion needs expression.

When people on earth lose someone close, the pain they feel, like they are alone, stuck, is also felt by the person who has passed on. Maybe even more so. Bonds are strong in the spirit realms. Glue becomes cement. So strong that many who have passed on remain attached to their loved ones on earth. Some don't even know they're dead, haunting the places they once dwelled.

John taught me a comfort prayer which I recited mentally while placing my index and middle fingers on Monika's forehead. Monika's soul felt tears cleared a blockage in her aura, allowing the healing process to begin.

"Thank you, Will. Thank you for staying." Monika said, wiping her moist cheeks.

"I felt a blockage around your heart. Healing's slow, it takes time and requires great care. Prayer helps. I know it's hard but you'll see them again. It will be a glorious reunion. Take some comfort in knowing that." I said.

"You're strong, Will." Monika said.

"I wish I was as strong as you, Monika.”

“You're strength is that you care, Will.”

“How high up are you now? How far along the spiritual path?” I asked.

“I'm progressing well, they even gave me my first charge.”

“You're own charge. Wow, that's great, Monika. That makes you a guardian angel!”

“Thanks Will. To be honest it's a little scary. I feel overwhelmed. The kid is troubled. He needs a lot of help.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” Monika's mood lightened.

“Well, he’s lucky to have you watching over him. He's in the right hands. Take comfort in knowing that.”

“Thank you, Will.”

“Come see me when you're up to it." I told Monika before returning to my temporary abode in the city of light.

***

My home was simple, a room actually. I had a desk for study and a bed for rest. When you first become a spirit you still need to lie down from time to time, not to sleep, but to pray and meditate to restore your spiritual energy.

After I rested, John came to my room to guide me to the feast that was prepared. A banquet is held to honor newly arrived souls to the realm as a way to make them feel comfortable and welcome. I was happy to leave my room, but afraid to go. Not much changed after my death. I still experienced angst in social situations. I was told that in time it would leave me. How much time, I do not know. There is no time in the afterlife ... only eternity. If it took that long, I was ok with it. I was learning acceptance.

The Great Hall was more beautiful than any magnificent architecture on earth. I once saw the Sagrada Familia on video from the library for a homework assignment. I was fourteen. It stole my breath, but the Great Hall stole my soul.

When John opened the doors to the Great Hall I was surprised, and relieved. I never liked being the center of attention. Even in death the thought of it sent my chest into shallow convulsions and a redness to my face. The feast was for me, and about five hundred just like me, newly arrived souls to the realms of light. There's safety in numbers. No speeches needed to be given, only a celebration of us.

The meal was light but filling. Since our arrival most of us hadn't shed our need for sustenance and food. Actually, food is not required at all by the spirit body, but it helped to ease our transition and provided familiarity.

We ate the sweetest fruits, most colorful vegetables, and softest breads. Wine was served but nobody was drunk. Self-control existed here, nothing like I'd seen in the hells where debauchery and excess ruled.

The efforts that the loving spirits of the realm went through to make the new arrivals feel comfortable was a saving grace. All beings in the realms of love were true angels.

I was seated with a group of young spirits my age, late teenagers. There were tables of older spirits but oddly, no one appeared over thirty. I turned to a man sitting at the table behind me. It felt safe and allowed me to turn my face away from the people at my table. A habit I still hadn't broken.

"How long have you been a spirit?" I asked.

"We’re all born spirits, young man." I blushed, feeling that I had offended the man with my ignorance. "About 600 or 700 earth years I suppose."

His response startled me. "You don't look a day over 30." I said.

The man laughed. "The ageless secret. Everyone here is thirty, kid. I was told it’s the prime age of a man. If a child dies, that child will continue to grow and mature in the spirit realms until he reaches thirty. When an old man dies he works backward. The more his soul progresses the more beautiful his appearance becomes."

"I've experienced that, first hand." I said.

"You must have been old when you passed. How old?" The man asked.

"Seventeen."

The man looked at me with a wrinkle in his brow. "I'm sorry, when I called you kid I didn't mean it literally, just thought you may have came up from below." I returned the confused look. "An immature looking soul often means that soul is lacking in spiritual development and understanding. Those souls come from realms lower than this one. The lower the realm the darker it becomes. You're young so you wouldn't have seen them. I tell you, I once travelled to first realm of hell. It was horrible, the arguing and fighting, the slavery to drink and material things. I tell you, you've never seen anything like it. I was once like those poor souls there now."

"Why did you go back there?" I asked.

"I was on a mission."

"Mission?"

"A missionary, ministering to the thousands of lost souls trying to find their way out of darkness and into the realms of light."

"Were you successful?" I asked.

"No. Not one soul benefited from my presence." I sensed angst in the man's tone.

"Maybe in time they will come to find their way." I said.

"You sound like my guide. That's why I'm here. She said I did a wonderful thing for the spirits in hell. I don't know, I don't see it."

"I'm guessing the spirits in darkness have nothing, no hope to cling to. Small acts of kindness contain the full glory of heaven." I said, borrowing the words because I couldn't find any of my own.

"You seem wise beyond your years, kid. You'll go far here." The man said. I shyly looked away. "You'll learn about your mission from your guide. We all have one. They send you back, back to where your life on earth failed, where you can make amends and heal your soul."

"Hell is no picnic, that's for sure." I said, reflecting the man's feelings back to him.

"You have no idea, kid. Be careful. A nice kid like you, things could go south in a hurry. If they do, they'll eat you alive down there."

"Believe me, you're preaching to the choir." I said.

"What do you know about it. You ain't never been to no hell." Again, I blushed, feeling as if I offended the man.

"I meant on earth. I was in hell there."

"You don't know nothing about it, kid."

I nodded my acknowledgement towards the man, feeling it best to turn from the conversation, in case he asked me for the truth. The truth of how deep in hell I once was. The truth of how I afraid I was to go back.

***

After the banquet I left the Great Hall, happy to be alone and free from the stress of forced conversation. I stopped to rest at a marble bench along the path home, filling my spirit lungs with the hygienic air of the pristine realm calmed my core.

"Will!" The voice sent a lump crawling up my stomach to my throat, my peace fading. I don't know why I still felt butterflies around her, after all we’d been through. Some people, special people, make you feel like that. They own a mystique you can never wrap your head around.

"Allison."

"It's good to see you too, Will." Allison paused for a second before bursting into laughter. "You don't know how great it is to see you!" Allison couldn't contain her excitement and lunged to embrace me.

"What's wrong, Will? Aren't you glad to see me too?" Allison could feel my hesitation.

"Sorry, You just caught me off guard." I said. "How did you find me? I can't believe how vast these spirit realms are."

"So like you, Will. So serious and down to business. John told me about the banquet. I had to come as fast as I could.

"I'm sorry." I smiled. "It's really great to see you."

"Isn't it amazing." Allison did a twirl, her voice bubbling with the same enthusiasm I had known since she first came to me in Mrs. Hanson's third grade class. "The energy, the colors, they're so vibrant. So alive!"

"It is beautiful." I said.

"Show me your home, Will. I'd love to see." Allison said.

"It isn't much. Far from the mansion worlds of the Father's house.”

Allison took me by the hand and lead me down the marble path. "It doesn't matter, not anymore. We've both done things we aren't proud of. We have to live with that now. The important part is that we're together."

Allison had a way of calming my despair. I was happy to be in a realm of light and out of the darkness. I wasn't advanced, like a kindergartner taking his first steps toward graduation, my road was long.

"Like I said, not much to look at." I opened the door and ushered Allison into my room. "There's the desk where I study things of the spirit. Kindness, patience, tolerance, love for all."

"I've studied this book too." Allison said, grabbing for the book on my desk.

"It's fitting, I mean, for people like us." I said.

"Wouldn't it be great to meet the author someday. I bet he's in a spiritual realm high above the highest heavens. So famous!" Allison spun on her toes and handed me the book.

"He definitely was enlightened. I think we both can relate to it." I placed my copy of The Divine Comedy back in its place on my bookshelf. I don't think Allison grasped the true meaning of the work. Dante was a name people of the high realms spoke with fondness, but Allison's intention was different. She was attracted to the fame, not the spiritual meaning of his work. Her road was long, as was mine.

"Will, I see concern in your Spirit. What's wrong?" Allison asked.

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head.

“You can talk to me, Will,” was all Allison said. It never seemed hard for Allison to get me to open up, she had a gift for it that other people didn't.

"The work, it's so hard. I feel so conflicted. You'd think that doing good or least trying to do good would be easy, like God would have just designed it that way. I feel like he asks the impossible sometimes." I said.

"I know what you mean, Will. I always felt that way when I was on earth. I didn't have the best teacher as you know, my perspective was skewed but that didn't mean I wasn't responsible for the choices I made. I did a lot of good for people, but I also failed. I wish every day that I could undo my suicide. I wish every day I wouldn't have let my father's oppression consume me and drive me to that terrible act." Allison buried her face in her hands.

"It's ok, Alison." I reached for her hand.

"I wish I had the guts to do something different and not always do what I was told or follow what my father thought was right for me. I'm learning to forgive him, but pieces of anger still cling to my soul. I'm trying to do the spiritual thing and forgive, but it's so hard. It's so hard to follow the spiritual path when you've been so wronged."

"Why'd you take your life?" The words left my mouth before I knew they were spoken and could take them back. "I'm so sorry Allison, you don't have to answer that."

"It's ok Will, um, I really thought I was getting back at him, teaching him a lesson, you know. A way of saying, you can't control me anymore. I tried in vain to tell him how I felt but no words could make him understand the emotional pain I felt. The act I committed was the only way to make him understand. I don't know. I always felt out of sorts, like someone else was calling the shots, certainly not me. It's almost as if it just happened, like it was all a dream. Sorry, probably not the most satisfying answer."

"It's ok, thank you for sharing with me." I said. "I've felt like that before. It's like something dark lives inside. It has this power over us, I don't know. It just feels that way sometimes."

I never told Allison the truth of her father's death, that it wasn't an accident, that I was there. I learned later on that John and the angels of light kept the truth hidden from Allison too, feeling that when the time was right I should be the one to tell her and doing so was an important step in my healing process.

"You get me, Will. More than anyone else." Allison hugged me tight. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"Promise not to tell John or anyone else. I don't want them to know."

"What is it, Allison? You can feel safe with me."

"Sometimes I feel the darkness is still inside me."

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed about. We're all on the spiritual journey, but none of us have reached the destination. Even Monika is still learning. Maybe talking to John would help."

"No, Will, please don't mention anything to him. Not just yet. I want to work some of this out on my own first. You know, for my growth. When the time is right, I'll talk. Plus you know how John can be.”

I understood Allison completely. Her reluctance to talk and share her innermost struggles can be felt by everyone. It's never easy to be truly vulnerable.

"Don't worry, Allison. I'd never break your trust. I get what you're saying. John is John, I guess, by far the most intense person I’ve ever met. Sometimes I want to say, 'dude relax, take a vacation, go to a beach, pet a dog … I don't know, something. Like I said, John is John. For being the beloved disciple, he’s not soft, but he does care deeply for us. I think that's why he pushes so hard sometimes.”

"Thank you, Will."

"You're strong Allison, I don't know how you do it. How you keep going, having been so wronged, so betrayed." I said.

"Sacrifice." Allison said.

"Sacrifice?"

"My mom, I learned it from her. The way she cared and would do anything for my father. You saw it. We both did. My father and I had our differences but I truly admired how much my mom loved him. How she dropped her guard, let those hideous creatures consume and drag her deep into the bowels of that evil city. She did it out of love. She gave herself for someone else, took on my father's pain so that he could gain hope. I could never be as strong as her."

"I think you're strong." I said.

"Look! You have a window!" Allison ran her finger along the wooden sill, acting delighted, but it felt like she was changing the subject.

"I do!" I said, matching her enthusiasm. "It's funny you know, when we spend so much time without something so common you learn to appreciate the small things. Sometimes it's hard to make sense of it all."

"You always make sense to me, Will." Allison leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

"Oh Will. It really is great to see you." Allison sighed. "I have to get back. Group prayer and mediation will be starting soon. Until we meet again."

"Until we meet again." I said, nodding as she left my room.

"Sometimes I wish you made sense to me." I whispered soft enough for Allison not to hear me.

Tension and anticipation rocked me on the edge of the bed, fingers running through my short brown hair, massaging the back of my neck when he arrived.

“You seemed troubled, William.” John stood in front of me.

“There's this pressure I can't shake. I don't think I’m think I'm the Resurrectionist person you think I am.”

“You’re doubting again, William.”

“I'm still not sure my purpose in all this.”

“The Resurrectionist's are a group of united souls dedicated to honoring the tradition of the, Harrowing of Hell.”

“Sounds delightful, John, but I'm guessing that's not a festival of fun with a ticker tape parade at the end.”

“After his death, the Son of God descended into the dead … hell. The Son ministered to the lost and forgotten, showing them the path to redemption, God's love filling the soul through prayer and the work of the Holy Spirit. Resurrectionist's are dedicated to upholding that tradition. You're one of us.” John's voice was powerful. His presence forced me to stand up and shake off the self-doubt, like I could really hide it from a being who sees everything.

John Zebedee visited often, counseling much like he did in his office at school, back when I knew him as Dr. Z. He taught me that true spiritual energy is the love of God, a connection through the Holy Spirit, God's grace reaching out to man's soul. We prayed for healing. The first thing John taught me was how to cry. Seems simple enough, but in truth boys learn early on not to cry, crying is unacceptable. It’s a teaching of the false prophet who hides in the subtlest of places. To cry is a gift from God, to snuff it out is error. When I was alive I was dead, numb to emotion, avoiding life and all its arduous feelings.

"We have a problem." John said.

"You don't say."

"The dark armies know about Project Gateway. Their leaders have corrupted and twisted Corbin's mind. He's under their control. Your friend, he's still alive, for now." John said.

"Justin, I wouldn't exactly call him a friend." I said.

"William, you must go back, again. Warn him of the danger before it's too late, before he's no longer part of the physical world."

"I tried already. It didn't work. I'm not strong enough. I'm not like you, John. I’m not an apostle."

"You are strong enough. You must believe, William. Let go of your fear. Let go of your doubt. Leave it with God. You must." John didn't waiver.

"I can't just let it go. It's not that easy. It's complicated."

"True courage is taking action with fear, not without. You have to be ok with that. You have to allow yourself to feel everything, every emotion. Don't hide from them, feel. I have something to show you." John said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Please, look inside." John held the palms of his hands open while I peered into them.

"Justin ... is he?"

"He will be if we don't act soon."

I saw Justin chained, a group of what appeared to be twelve dark figures circled him, forcing him against his will into something terrible. Part of me liked it, took pleasure seeing Justin caught the web of his deeds.

"I can see your thoughts." John said.

"I know. I can't help it. Like I said, I'm not like you."

"This is a powerful awakening for you, William. It takes great spiritual strength to love your enemies. It takes a titan's strength to resurrect one." John said.

"I get it John. I understand the message of forgiveness, but I don't feel it. It's too soon for me. I can't let it go that easy."

"You're right. It is too soon for you, but there isn't a lot of time. His future isn't written in stone, William. It can be altered. Justin can stop Corbin. He still has a chance at redemption. Justin needs your help and your guidance. Project Gateway must be destroyed."

"That's the best thing I've heard all day." My voice rose. "I've regretted becoming entangled with Gateway ever since I first saw it."

"Project Gateway itself isn't bad, but it has fallen into the wrong hands. Justin and Corbin are the only living souls who know of its existence. Corbin won't stop until he frees Sunny Miller. He's closer than you think."

“I wouldn't worry too much about Sunny Miller, John. Last time I saw him he was nothing but a puddle on the floor thanks to the demented demon he was serving.”

“Our sources tell me Sunny has grown powerful, that he’s formed an unholy alliance with something worse.” John said.

“What sources?”

“We have eyes and ears in the hells. They’ve been tracking Sunny’s movements. He’s no longer bound by the demon who tormented him, and you for that matter.” Fear ripped through me at hearing John’s words and the memories of unrelenting pursuit by Sunny's former master.

“What's his motive? What's Sunny after?”

“Uncertain.” John shook his head. “It hasn't been revealed to us.”

"You think Justin can stop Corbin?" I asked, desperately wanting to distract my mind from the horrid memories.

"With your help, William. Justin sees the error of his ways. If he confesses, goes to the police, Corbin will be stopped."

"Wishful thinking. Justin's not going to willingly turn himself over to the police. I know him. There's no way." I said.

"The pain in his soul burns strong. The guilt of his mistakes is creating an unrelenting pressure. He's close to breaking, something has to give. If you help Justin, he will see that confession is the first step to healing. Justin is a minor, he still has a chance. In time he can be free from the weight of his sin. With help he can change." John was right. Helping Justin might give us the edge to stop Corbin, but doubt loomed over like a bad omen.

"There's a bigger picture at work. You can't always see it. You must believe, William. You must exercise faith." John said.

"You always say that. I mean no disrespect, but I'm tired of the so-called bigger picture. How do you know there isn't just an endless road that leads to nowhere? You said yourself that you continue to grow and evolve, and you've been at it for over two thousand years. It's just so hard to accept sometimes." I buried my face into my hands. I felt like crying but nothing came.

"It is hard."

"What?"

"Faith … it's hard." John said, his words surprised me. Everything seemed so effortless for him. "Angels are not ominous, we cannot foresee the future. We only have the voice within to guide us, the voice of God."

"Yeah. What does your voice say? What does God tell you?" My words were harsh but I knew John understood they were born from frustration. John paused and took a step towards me, looking me in the eye.

"I wasn't much older than you are now when the Son of God first showed his face. My brother and I were skeptical. How could anyone in their right mind not be? He came from nothing, humble means, he didn't appear to be the great and powerful king that was prophesied."

"Why did you follow?"

"Faith, the voice within was strong. I knew I had to follow, I just knew." John said.

"Did he really expect you to drop everything, your entire life?"

"No, not at all. My father had a prominent fishing business at the time. As a family we were quite successful."

"Must have been hard for him to lose two sons from the family business." I said.

"Actually, my father encouraged James and I to follow. Deep down he wanted something deeper for us. That's what his inner voice told him."

"Um, again, no disrespect, but your brother was murdered and you endured your fair share of torture and torment. You can't tell me your dad wanted that for his boys."

"An unfortunate side effect of following a rebel. There was no animosity. You must remember, William. The people of my time lived in absolute fear of God until the Son came along and shattered that perception. A loving God did not exist in the minds of men before the Son revealed the truth." John had a way of making me forget who he was. He seemed like a trusted friend, a father figure, in reality he was a powerful cosmic being. It blew my mind every time I paused to wonder.

"There's nothing I can do to help you. You're a saint. The disciple whom Jesus loved. Far greater than me." I said.

"Where I'm from, the Kingdom of God, they just call me John." He paused, allowing his words to sink into my doubting mind. "You can help me. In more ways than you know. There's a reason for everything and every stage of life. I told you before and I will remind you again. Do not underestimate yourself. There are things you can do that I cannot."

"Hell."

"Yes."

"I hate that word and everything it stands for.”

“Rightfully so.” John said, pacing around my small room.

“I have to go back don't I, alone? I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice. Free will is the law of the universe."

"You've been to hell. You and James found me there, remember?"

"We can exist in hell for a short period of time, but we cannot help the truly lost because we cannot create a connection with them. We are on such far ends of the spiritual continuum. We are literally polar opposites repelling one another."

"You need me to go back because hell is a realm too dark and heavy for an enlightened being such as yourself." I reflected John's words.

"You're right William. Hell proposes a problem. I have to dial down my energy to such a degree that I am rendered almost powerless. That is why I could only guide you to the outskirts of the forsaken city. It's why James had to stay hidden in the sewers. Our spiritual energy would demolish the inhabitants of the city if we were to enter."

"Why not? Why not just destroy the whole damn thing!" I said.

"Because, destruction is not God's will. God is a being of love, a being of forgiveness. If he wanted to destroy the city he would do it himself. He permits the city to exist.”

"Why? Seems a little reckless to me."

John smiled. "Every created being in God's universe serves a purpose, even if those beings have fallen far off the spiritual path. It's God's will that all his children return to him in paradise, even the ones who've lost their way.”

"What if they don't want to go? What if they want to stay where they are, torturing poor souls and living in ultimate sin."

"You're right, William. God will never force any of his creatures to come to him against their will. Instead, he simply leaves the door open for their return. Someday, he might close it. We do not know for certain. God has never fully revealed his plans. In my heart I suspect one day he will close the gates of heaven but only time will tell and only after all of his children have refused his gift of paradise. That's why I have been praying so hard."

"You've been praying for God to shut the gate?"

"No, I've been praying for him to keep it open ... long enough for my spiritual brother to return. I've been praying for him to come home and claim his spot at the Lord's table."

"Judas."

"You're the key, William. The answer to my prayers. It's always been you."

John's words chilled me. I knew he wouldn't speak them unless they conveyed some sense of truth, they were haunting. The pressure of those words shook my foundation.

"When?"

"When the time is right and your affairs are in order. William, come with me. There's one more thing."

John lead me out of my room and through the marble walkways of the enlightened city. The city was busy, just as city's on earth are. The difference, there were no strangers here. Everyone was a trusted friend, and you never had to lock your door.

I was brought to a large room, much like the IMAX Theater my parents took me to for birthdays as a kid when they could afford it. During bad years when dad was between jobs I'd just get a trip to Reynold's Ice Cream parlor. I really didn't mind. I think it hurt my parents though, not being able to give me the world.

Three large figures stood in front a giant panoramic monitor that stretched over fifty feet wide. "William, all men are held accountable for their time on earth and how they used the precious gifts given from on high. Tell me, what have you done with the time you were given?"

As the question was asked my entire life flashed on the screen. I read once of a man who had been pinned under his car after it slipped off the jack. The man claimed to see beings made of light as he watched his life play out before him. A doctor later discredited his claim, saying that the injured man's brain had been deprived of oxygen and the beings he claimed to see where nothing more than a team of doctors standing over him and the bright lights of the operating room shining down. I guess the doctor will be in for a surprise when it's his turn.

A three dimensional play unfolded on the monitor, myself cast as the lead actor. Not just the highlights, everything. The good, the bad, and the mundane. Every thought, every action, every desire. I intuitively knew how my thoughts and actions affected those around me. I lowered my head, unable to look at the three beings of light standing before me.

"Look closer. You're avoiding." One of them said.

An invisible force compelled my chin up and my eyes to see. An air of sadness hovered over Allison as I watched her look at a picture of me when she was sixteen. Her thoughts were as visible to me as words on a page. I know you're hurting, Will. I just don't know how to help you. You won't let me in.

Samantha, daughter of the fortune teller Marla Williams was there, at least the image of her. Atrocious darkness loomed over her. Thoughts of dying and escape fought to get inside. They were held back by an energy, a force Samantha felt intensely but couldn't see. I shivered when I saw it. The force was inside me, emanating from my heart.

"How can this be?" I asked the three beings standing in front of me.

"Your kindness, William, kept the dark thoughts out."

"I never even tried to help her. It was just small talk, a small kindness is all."

"Small acts of kindness contain the full power and glory of heaven. Small acts of kindness save souls. That is what you did for the young woman."

A warmth came over me but only for a moment before darkness fell. I couldn't turn from it. It was laid bare for all to see. I watched Reverend Channing brush his teeth and wash his face, the night the devil entered his home. Thunderous clouds rolled in as a skinny, bony, creature of evil slithered up the old staircase. The creature I'd become after letting the darkness into my soul.

I wanted to hide, bury my face, when I watched his body fall from the second floor. Like trauma tightening it's unforgiving grip, the imagine froze it's permanent home in my mind.

I watched as I negotiated that deal with the hell demon, like peasants squabbling and haggling over the price of cabbage. I sealed the Reverend's fate like a coward, thinking I was saving myself, but in truth damning my soul. The monitor went blank. A sharp pain then great warmth filled my chest. I lifted my face to the three beings, tears falling like a baby.

"Come with me, William." John walked me home. He didn't say a word. He knew I wasn't ready to talk.