Beyond death, there is Heaven, and there is Hell, or so believers say.
They say that if you force yourself to believe in 'God', you would save yourself from 'Hell', just in case precisely such a vengeful god were to exist.
But how would you choose which sect to believe in? Not one of the thousand or more 'Christian' sects on earth believes that what the followers of any other are believing in or doing is good enough. So would it be good enough for the god they worship or not?
Should a prudent person just choose the christian sect with the most terrifying hell?
Or is that narrowing it down too far? Do we have any reason to believe that of all the millions of religions that have ever existed, one is more probable to be True and Right than any of the others?
Me, I don't believe. But imagine if each person's own heaven and hell were not just a figment of his or her imagination, but as real as that of the person on either side, and as real as reality itself.
For believers, these will be a reality. They will not just die, they will pass on, or be raptured. When they come to the head of the line at the Pearly Gates, their misdeeds will be subtracted from their good deeds. Perhaps at that point their own judgment will coincide with that of St. Peter, or whoever or whatever is to pass judgment on them. But then again, perhaps not.
Strike a deal with the Devil? Go right ahead. If you believe in the Devil, you can do that. But he will collect...
Comes The End
There is always a beginning, of course, but we will not worry ourselves about that. There are always so many different starting points. Did my life begin with conception? With birth? Or did it begin when the unique DNA classifiable as 'human' first resulted from some random mutation in a single egg cell or sperm?
The end is much clearer. When things come together and coalesce, we watch them happen, although we are often powerless to react, as in a dream.
Was it ever all a dream, and if so, how did any of it become reality?
The gray mist lifts up from the dank earth, rising to meet the sweet, acrid smoke drifting from the censer. It dances in the breeze, seemingly forming shapes, then as quickly dissipating, before you can say just what those shapes might be.
The flames of the candles flicker, barely lighting the scene.
On this night the dead will walk the earth with us again, unseen.
The chanting begins, as of old. Perhaps it is authentic, perhaps not. But it has always been good enough to wreak its magic and begin the casting of the spells, the incantation, the invocation of the unholy.
We can see them, the two men, one larger and one smaller. They are wearing dark robes. They raise their hands as they chant, wave with purpose. You can feel the energy growing as the volume of their chant increases.
There is an altar and a sacrificial knife, but you see no tribute, no offering, no victim...yet. There are bejeweled golden goblets of wine on the altar, waiting to be...what?
We see a point of light form at the center of the altar, beginning like the dot of red light of a laser pointer, growing in size, larger, until it is a large ball hovering over the altar. Amorphous in shape, it pulsates. Finally it coalesces, shrinks, and takes the form of a being—Beelzebub himself.
The Devil looks down and speaks to the smaller man. "What is this?" he says, pointing at the wine. "Where is the virgin you were going to sacrifice to me? And why this wine? That's supposed to be blood in the goblets." He points again at the goblets, and they tip over, spilling their contents.
"I think you're not taking your part of the bargain seriously. I've come through with what you needed, and now you're backing down. I think I should just take back all I gave you and leave."
The small man starts to bluster and bluff. Satan looks down on him and laughs. "Your time is up, little man. You never did intend to follow through on your promises, did you? But then they never do," he said, talking to no one in particular.
"Now I will collect," he says, snapping his fingers. In a white glow, the girl, the man's daughter, appears on the table, naked, terrified. She then disappears, dissolving into a mist. "She is mine."
"You can't do that!" screams the little man.
"Ah, but so I can," hisses Satan. "You have failed to fulfill your part of the bargain. You have grown increasingly arrogant. Your hubris astounds even me."
He puts his hands on his hips, inasmuch as a glowing red spirit in the shape of a devil can. "But I always knew you would do this. That was part of the deal, too. It was never up to you. You only deluded yourself into thinking you were able to strike a bargain, that you had free will."
Now the red glow dissolves and again forms a cloud, then a cyclone. Whirling around, it touches down onto the head of the larger man and vanishes within him. He speaks. "It never was up to you. Everything has always been up to me. I knew what I wanted and I had you offer it to me. I knew full well I would win in the end."
The small man says, "But, but..."
The big man cuts him off. "You're a fool. Did you really think you could get into heaven with the help of the Devil? I could take you now, but I don't need to. When you wake up, you will realize that you are the fool of the Nation and the world. Your power is gone. This is your fate."
The small man whimpers, "You are possessed by Satan."
Cheney laughs. "You don't get it, do you? Why would I be possessed by the Devil? I
am the Devil."
The evil laughter echoes through the forest, and the small man sinks to the ground, feeling truly impotent and alone for the first time in his life.