Angel gave me a questioning look, looked back at the monument of the puppy, and then nodded in understanding. We walked up the path to an intersecting lane that led back through the forest and back to the large pond. This time, we had come out on the right side of the pond closer to where we originally were with the cherry blossom tree and park bench. I noticed now that there was a very large building about a hundred yards from the Cherry Blossom and Park Bench. It was about as tall as the Capitol with the same architecture elements, yet it had a modern and futuristic flare to it. The top of the building had a wide domed spire and the ground floor contained large Greco-Roman columns, yet the middle floors were completely open with clear paned glass similar to that of a city skyscraper. Soldiers from every branch of the military walked openly in uniform around the building, weapons in hand.

Angel turned to me, “Hey, it’s a little warm out here. Want to cool down inside a bit?”

“Sure, but are they gonna let us through?” I gestured toward the soldiers.

Angel chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll give us a pass.”

As we approached the steps to the building, I was suprised all of the soldiers stood at immediate attention and saluted. “Um…who are they saluting?” I leaned and whispered to Angel.

“You, of course!” He whispered back. “Just be cool.” He pulled a lanyard pass that I had not yet noticed from under his shirt and handed it to the soldiers at the door. It said, “Full security clearance.” I noticed that despite the pass, the soldiers still had him walk through the metal detector and ran a pat down. On the other hand, one soldier offered me a full salute, “Madame President! Glad to have you here. Right this way.” He escorted me through a separate side door without the metal detectors.

Once through, the soldier offered me another salute and marched back to his station. I spotted Angel a few paces away and grabbed hold of his arm again. “Wait…you didn’t tell me I was a president??? Am I a president? President of what???”

Angel shook his head. “Gosh, did you forget everything???”

“Well, I can’t be President of the United States! I’m, like, so unqualified for that job. I never wanted that job to begin with!”

“What did I say before at the park bench? You’re a god. All humans are gods. You’re a god of this realm and you decided that the role of President was a better fit, over a Queen or a Tribal leader or Priestess or any other role of leadership.” I looked out in near panic at the soldiers outside. “…Wait…you’re saying, they ALL report to me???”

“Yes! You have trillions of public servants reporting to you at this very moment.”

“Angel! I can’t lead them! I can barely tell myself what to do—”

“But you can and you have!” Angel interrupted abruptly. He let out a deep breath and said in an even tone. “Let’s find a seat inside so we can jog your memory a little further.”

---

As we walked through a second set of doors in the entryway into the main hall, I gasped. “Angel… this is…” My head craned all the way up to the top of the middle dome and scanned across the entire space. The entire space was… “a library?” We were greeted by books. Millions upon millions of books in shelves on every floor. The clear-paned glass walls on the floors above allowed an ample amount of natural light in. The stairs leading to those floors wrapped in a wide arching spiral upward, like that of a conch shell. One of the most notable features in this building was the column-shaped floor to ceiling supercomputer surrounded by bulletproof glass holding up the dome in the center. At the base of the supercomputer, librarians sat behind a long and wide donut-shaped desk guiding people to proper books, checking out found books, or sorting and compiling new books for the library. I noted the sheer number of librarians that milled about the building.

Angel smiled knowingly at the wonder on my face. “Come! Let’s walk to the top floor!”

“How many floors is this place? It’s massive!”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve floors seems like a lot for a library. Doesn’t it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if it’s enough for the amount of information that’s stuffed in here. That’s why you had that supercomputer installed. So much information. Would you prefer the stairs or the elevator?” He gestured to a gold and glass elevator across from the supercomputer that also led to each floor.

“Let’s take the elevator!” I felt like a kid again. Angel beamed. “Let’s do it! But first…” He stepped away and walked up to the librarians’ desk. We whispered something to them, flashed his clearance badge, and they handed him a card. “…I needed to grab this,” he said as he bounded back.

“What’s that?”

“The key to getting to the top. Most people who visit this library can only get to the 6th floor. The floors from rooms 7 on up are classified and only those with the key can get to them.”

We made our way onto the elevators. As Angel keyed us in, I noticed that there were only 11 gold-plated buttons. “I thought there were 12 floors? Where’s the 12th one?”

“That floor requires an able-bodied person to climb a ladder.”

“Oh…” I turned to look out of the glass back down at the people milling about below. This place truly was stunning with each floor being about 20 feet in height. At each floor, the elevator announced the floor name and the subjects. “Floor One: Lobby, Reference, and General Studies. Floor Two: Literature and Fiction. Floor Three: The Histories. Floor Four: The Sciences. Floor Five: The Arts and Art Museum. Floor Six: Mathematics, Economics, and Business. Floor Seven: Religions and Social Sciences. Floor Eight: Metaphysical Sciences. Floor Nine: Law and Judiciary Sciences. Floor Ten: The Theaters. Floor 11: Conference Rooms.”

As we stepped out, I asked, “Why are the conference rooms considered classified? And we have theaters in here? Why are those classified?”

Angel glanced at me and shrugged with a tight smile. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one who built it this way.”

As we stepped off the elevator, it hit me that we were inside of the wide domed spire. The conference rooms had glass walls facing inside the library and outside the building with tough concrete walls between most of the rooms. Some rooms had a folding wall to expand the room into a much larger room. I also saw that each room had automatic shades for closing off the room for privacy on both glass walls.

“This way.” Angel motioned. We turned to the left and walked along the open hallway separating the conference rooms from the balcony and the open space below us. Where the hallway should have had spiral steps leading toward the 12th floor, there was a concrete wall and a barricaded door. Angel swiped the key card across the reader to the right of the door and the heavy locks on it opened up.

“Welcome to the control room,” Angel said as he flipped on the lights. Inside all sorts of computers were whiring quietly. Wires and control boxes were everywhere. “This is where the internet and part of the power lines are stored and protected. If these go down or are tampered with, the entire place is going down.” To me, it looked like the data room of just about any important building, just much bigger. “Come. This way,” said Angel as he gingerly walked over some taped-down lines. I noticed that some of the lines he stepped over had frayed tape along the ground and the wires were exposed.

“That doesn’t look safe.” I mused.

“Nope. I’m guessing some of these wore out? Or something even more insidious happened. Either way, it’s not a joke and if you don’t want to get electrocuted, watch your step.”

---

He led me to the far lefthand corner of the room and motioned to a barricaded hatch on the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a boat ladder with rails surrounding the top wrungs leading to the hatch. Angel swiped the key card against the reader to the right side of the ladder and the hatch unlocked and opened automatically. “After you. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

I was surprised that I was able to climb up with my own strength, despite how weak I felt. I pulled myself onto the 12th floor and gasped at what I was seeing. “A lighthouse? This library is a lighthouse?” I called to Angel as he pulled himself up. Two 10-foot-tall fog lights whirled around the glassed open room. They were tied end to end and suspended from the ceiling. Below the lights, I could see the library desk 12 stories below and a massive fan at the end of the supercomputer blowing hot air up at the lights. Safety rails and glass surrounded the massive fan so no one would accidentally fall in. “You somehow figured out a way to capture the hot air from the supercomputer and turn it into kinetic energy for the fog lights as well as additional electricity for the building. Almost as if you made the spinning fog lights above your own windmill. Really smart there, if I have to say so myself.”

I looked out at the open expanse of the city and the area beyond. I saw the memorial park and graveyard below us and a busy highway leading to a bustling city skyline. “And tell me, Angel. Why would I need a lighthouse when I don’t see an ocean nearby?” I continued walking around the spire noting the mountain range in the opposite distance, farmland to the west, and wait… was that a small shoreline to the east?

“Just because it’s hard for you to see where the ocean shores are from here, does not mean that those lost boats out there cannot see this magnificent light. There are also many planes that pass through here since there’s an airport nearby. The mountains are troublesome for the pilots to see when it’s dark outside. Your fog lights help make them visible. Seems like you picked the perfect location to put a lighthouse. On top of your library in the middle of this realm.”

As if on cue, I felt the acid run down my eye. Bending over from the pain, I gripped the railing edge and saw the fan in the supercomputer slow down and shut off at the same time. The lights stopped spinning. “…And now you see why I brought you up here.”

“The lights stopped spinning?” 


“Yep. So many people in this realm have started to rely heavily on this lighthouse. Your supercomputer usually does not stop sending air to the lights. But lately, it has due to the way you have everything set up here and those frayed wires in the control room. Thank Most High that this happened in the daytime and not at night or I’d be working double duty tonight with planes crashing into mountains and boats crashing into rocks!” he laughed.

“Yeah… that’s not funny. How do we fix this.”

“Usually, you have a steady stream of cool mountain air flowing into the basement of this building. Lately, with global warming on the rise and a few forest fires in the Northern mountain region, that air hasn’t been so consistent. Let’s see if we can open a skylight in the roof above where the fog lights are attached and see if it helps cool your supercomputer down. This is only a temporary solution as it really only lets out some of the hot air and it wouldn’t be practical when inclement weather comes. I think you installed a control panel on one of the safety railings…” Angel walked around the walkway surrounding the supercomputer fan. “Aha. Here it is.” A small touchscreen control panel stood on a post closest to where the hatch was. Angel looked back up at me. “Hey Chief, it’s your decision. Want me to open the windows?”

“I-I guess so… Sure.” I wiped away tears from my right eye.

Angel went ahead and pressed a few buttons. The skylights partially opened up and a fresh wind flew into the dome. Within 5 minutes, the supercomputer was running again and the lights were spinning. Angel walked back toward me and began a slow clap; his claps reverberating off the dome. Several librarians loudly shushed in unison up at the dome. He waved at them and whispered back to me, “You just saved me from having to pull away and head to work with this one small gesture here. Thanks.”

“Does this happen every time I have an ‘acid attack’?”

“Hmm…well, I’m not here as often as you are; even if you’ve forgotten this place. But in the time I’ve been here, I’d say it happens around the same rate.”

“Geez… Sounds like we really got to figure out how to stop my attacks.”

“That and repair the wires in the control room. That is… if you want to keep this realm going. I’m also here for you if you just want to end this world completely. I can do that do. As you saw, I’m good for more than just releasing a bit of hot air.” Angel walked over to the open hatch on the floor and extended a hand. “Watch your step. I’m coming down after you.”

---

Words: 2,284

Total Words: 9,112

I hit the bottom of the pool. For a moment, the pool was silent beyond the small clicks I could hear as my ears adjusted to the pressure. I leaned into the pressure and let the rest of my air out with a deep scream I had been holding for years.

It didn’t matter, right? No one could hear me down here anyway, right? I looked directly up at the surface of the pool in defeat. You know… it wouldn’t even be difficult to just…not get back up… right?

---

“Wait… What the HECK are you talking about? What EXACTLY is your gripe with life, Brittany!?!”

My mind transported to a therapist’s office. I could clearly see my body sitting defeated, beaten, and bruised next to me on a couch. My body couldn’t even look me in the eye as I screamed at it. “Do you really want to divorce? Just like that?”

The therapist sat blank-faced and silent across the room, notebook in hand. I continued. “For real though… you gotta be kidding me!?! Like is this what it’s come to? Do you just want to give up? Do you know what will happen if you do? We’ll cease to be. Done. That’s it! No other chances. Is that what you really want!?”

---

Angel repeated his question. “Brittany?”

“Huh… oh yes… I’m embarrassed to say that you are correct. I guess I have been trying to distract myself from life a lot lately, haven’t I?”

I couldn’t meet his gaze. I turned my body to face across the pond and looked out at the horizon. I noted how this park was very serene and peaceful. Beyond the koi pond, trees of all kinds stood tall and proud, blocking the city horizon in the distance. There were trees of all sorts: Aspens, Oaks, Walnuts, Hickories, Elms, Spruces… such a variety.

“Come. Follow me. Let’s take a walk. Don’t worry. You can hold my arm.” He beat me to my most recent internal protest that I might fall.

As I slowly got up, I felt another pang of acid float behind my right eye and down my right arm. My head swam. I tilted forward as my left leg started losing strength. “Uh-uh! I got you!” Angel said as he caught me. “Don’t go falling on me yet!” He chuckled. I held on tightly to his right arm as I waited for the moment to pass once again.

“Seriously…” I muttered under my breath. “It’s like I have to relearn everything I learned and excelled at since I was a toddler!”

Angel pursed his lips but remained silent as we started slowly walking forward. He tilted his head up to really take in the small forest of trees around the pond. “My, my… what a collection…” I agreed with him. The sight of them all together was beautiful. Some didn’t make as much sense since I knew that some of these tree varieties belonged in completely different environments, but somehow they thrived and looked beautiful together.

Angel pointed to my right side. “I love the touch of palm trees along the pond’s shoreline. Gives the pond a bit of a beach vibe.”

“I know, right?” I smiled.

“Brittany, what you created here is quite beautiful. Seriously. Very serene, and you get to really meditate here on the past, present, and future much more easily. Beautiful memorial park.”

I stopped walking and looked up at Angel confused. “Wait…You’re saying that what I created was a memorial park? I thought this was just a dream of some forest that I had no control over.”

“Yep… it’s a dream, but it’s also very real. And you have control here. This is a true location within your metaphysical universe. You built it, and you go here often, whether you know it or not. And this is a very real arboretum inside of a memorial park. Take this for instance…” Angel turned and walked up to one of the trees that had a lantern in front of it. The lantern looked like it had been recently lit. “This Weeping Willow tree by the pond is the perfect touch…don’t you think? Well maintained.” He rubbed his hand across the bark. “And whose picture is that underneath the lantern?”

I slowly walked up to the lantern and paused in silence for a solid minute. “My late grandmother whom I never got to meet. She died the year before I was born.”

“Ah…I see. If I remember correctly, she and I did meet. A sweet soul, but V’s program for her was entirely too intense. For what it’s worth, she was incredibly strong in her human form. Because of this, I can see she is thriving in her tree form.” He gently caressed the bark and breathed a prayer, “May she forever find Rest in Peace.”

I was touched by how much care and reverence he showed the tree. We continued to walk in silence as we walked passed more of a variety of trees…an oak tree, a walnut tree, a hickory tree, a maple, and two very tall twin pines. I began to notice that many of the trees in this forest had a lantern beside them. Some had images beneath the lanterns, some had name plaques, and others were nameless and pictureless, but had a set of flowers or herbs growing underneath the lanterns to signify something unique about each tree. The lanterns of the twin pines were not lit but were very healthy and strong. I walked up to the pines and recognized that the images beneath the lanterns were my Mom and Dad.

Angel stood with me by the pines. “It’s not their time yet. Still, these pines stand tall in your heart and mind. But…what about you?” He pointed at the opposite end of the pond where the lone cherry blossom and park bench stood. I noticed an unlit lantern by the park bench as well. “You tell me. Is it your time yet?”

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. I was still processing that this whole “safe” place in my mind was a memorial park and not some really nice city park. Angel took my hand and patted it. “Still in shock about the memorial park part? Here, follow me. This one spot of the park really clued me in on what this place was. You never noticed this spot before?”

We walked in silence down a windy path through the forest of trees. The further we walked down the forest the more old and ancient the trees were. I noticed that they were again of all sorts of varieties from all over the globe like Redwoods, Ube, Baobab, and Acacia trees. As we drew closer, Angel picked up his pace. “Ah, here we are! Look at this!” The windy path led us to an area where the forest of trees instantly ended and before us was a vast cemetery full of headstones. The sun was at full brightness though it was early in the morning and we could see that the city line was much closer now. Maybe about a mile away or so. It wasn’t so pretty over here. The grass was burnt and yellow and many of the stones looked worn down and faded. Weeds and garbage had overtaken the cemetery.

“Well…this is a stark difference…” I mumbled aloud.

“I know… right?” Angel said a bit taken aback. “And you didn’t know about this place? It looks like it’s been here a very long time.”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t know about any of these places really. I thought this was all a dream that was just happening to me. Not a dream I was creating in the moment.”

“Yeah…well, I was about to say that your groundskeeper is a genius, but I take it back.” Angel chuckled. “Let’s walk around it, shall we?” He readjusted the arm that I was holding onto as we walked and slowed down his pace. I walked up to the first headstone… “Brittany Witcher. Gymnast. 1992-1996.”

I looked up at Angel. “Wait!” This headstone has my name on it!”

Angel pursed his lips and nodded his head solemnly. “Yes it does.” He continued walking slowly with me in silence as we moved to the next headstone. “Brittany Witcher. Model. 1992-2004.” And then the next one.

“Brittany Witcher. Actress. 1996-1998.”

“Brittany Witcher. Vet. 1997-1999.”

“Brittany Witcher. Artist. 1998-2003.”

I passed a few more headstones but then stopped in my tracks at “Brittany Witcher. Astronaut. 1997-2005.” I felt a lump form in my throat. “Angel…” was all I could choke out. We continued down the rows and rows of headstones dedicated to me.

“Brittany Witcher. Roller Coaster Designer. 2002-2005.”

“Brittany Witcher. Architect. 2003-2004.”

“Brittany Witcher. Travel Journalist. 2005-2011.”

“Brittany Witcher. Novelist. 2006-unknown.”

I paused at the Novelist headstone and was silent for a very long time. “Why does this one say ‘unknown’?” I whispered.

Angel said carefully, “Because…we don’t know when this version of you died, or if it has died. Only you do. As far as we know, this dream is like a missing person that has been missing for so long, we can only assume that this person has died.”

I let go of Angel’s arm and knelt down beside the headstone. Just a simple slab with a faded name. It came to me that warm wet tears were sliding down my cheeks and onto the slab. Angel knelt down beside me and silently rubbed my back.

I looked back at Angel and said as a sob arose, “Angel…how dead am I really? Until now, I thought at least this dream was still alive.”

Angel continued to rub my back and allowed me to mourn, right then and there. I appreciated that he did not answer my question at that moment, but was there. Once I reached a moment when the sobs subsided, he helped me up and asked, “Did you want to see more or did you want to take a break and head back?”

“I…I can do this. But can we walk around the perimeter? So I get the gist of what all is here?”

“Of course.” He smiled gently and walked me back to the edge of the graveyard between the trees and the headstones. A path circled between the trees and headstones in a circle. I noted that the headstones surrounded the treeline almost like a doughnut. As Angel and I walked along the path, I saw how the sayings on the stones started to shift.

“Brittany Witcher. Singer. 1992-1996; 2011-2018” We continued to walk past it, but I saw a few more appear like this one. “Brittany Witcher. Dog Mom. 2006-2007; 2022-“

“Angel… The headstones have multiple sets of dates now…?”

“Ah! You noticed!” He was excited to see this. “One of your inborn ‘superpowers’ if you wish to call it that is the power to resurrect from the dead. At this point…your capabilities are somewhat limited because this isn’t a power you exercise often, but resurrecting dreams is a good place to start.”

“Wait… you’re the Angel of Death and you’re okay with the concept of resurrection?”

“I know right? But I am. Believe it or not…as I shared before, I’m more interested in ensuring that people do not needlessly suffer. ‘Death’ is a form of rest. This rest can be temporary or eternal. Scientifically speaking, however, nothing truly dies. Remember, Newton’s laws? ‘Energy can neither be created nor destroyed.’ Energy is what it is and will always be what it is. When someone or something is born (including a dream), particles are bound together and organized in such a way that it builds a complex organism. Be it a human, a plant, a bacteria, or a star. The laws of entropy dictate, however, that those particles must disperse over time. And that is what death is. The dispersal of those particles. I manage that process. But there is no law stating that those dispersed particles cannot regroup and rebuild what was once there before. My brother handles that process. So while my brother and I have a bit of a rivalry between us, we are also at harmony with each other. My brother’s resurrection capabilities are not at odds with my dispersal duties.”

I continued to soak in his thought while we walked past a few more headstones.

Brittany Witcher-Friday. Beautiful. 1992-1996; 2015-2018; 2022-

“Interesting how some concepts and thoughts of yourself have died and been reborn over and over, right?” Angel mused.

“Yes…” I thought deeply about this one as the headstones changed from dreams of careers and hobbies to adjectives to describe myself. Some headstones had an enormous list of birth and death dates. I paused at Brittany Witcher-Friday. Financially Savvy. “Angel, this one has so many dates in the tiniest font. I can barely read it.”

“Yep. This one is a complicated dream of yours. Looks like it’s born and then dies on a near-weekly/ biweekly basis. Particularly with every paycheck it seems.”

“And this one is also complicated it seems,” I said as I stopped at Brittany Witcher-Friday. Smart. This one was an obelisk headstone with birth and death dates engraved over the entire headstone. “Why yes. I believe you’re correct. It’s very complicated it seems. Do you happen to know why?”

I chewed the inside of my lip while I thought. “Could it be that I really only thought of myself as smart as people labeled me as smart or not smart? Like in conversations or with report cards or such…”

Angel sat back. “You know, I think you may be on to something there. And could it be that you agreed with whatever label that person gave you whenever they said you were smart or not smart?”

“Hm. Who knows… I may have…” I sighed as Angel and I walked on.

The next set of headstones shifted from monuments to me to monuments to other people, things, or events that did happen and failed or never happened. The headstones mirrored what you would see in an infant or child graveyard. Many of the headstones had little cherub wings or hearts with the image of whatever or whoever it was. Most were flat faded headstones but some were larger and newer marble ones. I stopped and stared nearly breathless over the sheer number of them. It looked like they went on for miles.

“This part of the graveyard is for the miscarried, infant, and young dreams. The ones that you had partially or fully visualized for yourself or others but never quite grew to full maturation. It’s-“

“It’s a land of disappointments.” I cut him off. My mood darkened. I spotted a larger monument in the shape of a floppy-eared pup in a perfect, yet curious sit. Head cocked. “I’m done here. Let’s go.”

---

Words: 2,473

Word Total: 6,828

Angel smiled softly to himself as if sharing a private thought. 

“So I can’t die then?”

“Well… let’s just say, you can die, and will die, but death has many layers and dimensions to it.”

“But I thought you just said that my heart has that ‘special payment’?”

“Oh it totally does. That immediately tells me that you had a Spirit transplant.  The previous spirit you had has died and been reprocessed, and the Spirit within you now will not die because it cannot die. It hasn’t fallen short of the true balance system, remains perfectly balanced and is… honestly… Perfect in every way.  No matter what I do, that portion of you will live forever. If you came to me and said, ‘Angel, I’d like to order one spiritual death please.’ I’d have to say, ‘Sorry, no can do. Someone else paid for that service for you already. Your spiritual death already happened.’ By the way, this is the only time I can say ‘No’ to someone, and I love it!  I love seeing that the Spirit within you is totally at Peace with itself and the world and is not suffering at all. Now, speaking of suffering, the other two jurisdictions of you, I could potentially help you with.”

“Jurisdictions?”

“Yes… we do have services where we can offer the Death of the Psyche and then we can offer the Death of the Physical. In those areas, I could ‘potentially’ help.”

“Why only ‘potentially’?”

“Well, it’s because of that ‘special payment’. That special payment was a contract with a couple of addendums and clauses between myself, Most High, his Son and my brother, Malek Chaim.  We call him by his middle initial ‘V’ for short though.”

“You have a brother?”

“Oh yes… my older brother… same Father, but we couldn’t be more different. You’ve met him, I’m guessing. You had to have met him. You wouldn’t be talking with me if you hadn’t met him.” Angel looked at me, clearly flustered at his brother.

“Freakin’, V…”

“Seems like you two don’t like each other very much.” I chuckled.

“Oh…don’t get me wrong. I love my brother! I’d die (no pun intended) for him. But yeah. We have a ‘bit’ of a rivalry. It’s incredibly annoying that he’s always portrayed as the hero when clearly, you can see that people WANT to die! Just like they WANT there to be an ending to movie franchises, people are so freakin’ tired of ‘fighting for another day’. Truth is, I’m the kind and compassionate one. V is just cruel to make them keep going. At least that’s how I see it.”

I caught myself just smiling at Angel. He blushed. “Sorry for the rant. Little brothers don’t get to voice their opinion as often as they’d like.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “I digress. The point is, most people have already let their psyche die well before their physical death. Even if they have that ‘special payment’ mark. And they let their psyches and physical bodies die because they asked for my help. Because V is way too hard on them, like I tell him, ALL THE TIME. V doesn’t care. He moves on and keeps going… he never gives up on someone or something, even when you can clearly see that they’ve suffered way too long for their good.” Angel picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the pond, scattering the playful koi beneath.

As I stared at the disturbed water, I winced and grabbed the right side of my head as another bout of acid went down my eye. “You said people ‘let’ their psyches and physical bodies die?” I asked after the moment passed.

“Yep. Almost everyone does it. Mark or not. It’s psychologically nearly impossible to keep living forever, so why try? Doesn’t matter if you have 18 years or 80 years, almost everyone has a moment where they get so psychologically drained by life. So they just call me up and ask me to give them eternal rest. And because they have as much power, authority, and currency as a god, I can’t say no. Again, I hate seeing people suffer for no reason. Like you are right now.” He gestured to my head. I dropped my hand.

“Anyway, yes.” He continued. “The thing people get wrong about their short, finite and precious lives, is that it doesn’t matter how long or short their lives are. Ultimately, most people choose when they want to die. And they die well before their physical bodies give out.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms. “I mean most people follow the recipe their grandparents gave them: Go to school, get the job, get the spouse, get the house, get the kids, and the pets and the… and the… and the… but then somehow lose their reason to live anyway. So they call me. Like you did…”

He flashed a beautiful and confident smile. “And while I’m flattered that I’m more comforting than most other family members and the things they got, they know my services are expensive. So these people often choose to die by payment plan. Instead of pouring out 40-50 years all at once for me, they pay me daily to die. They pay me for every moment that distracts them from their reason for living and for every thought that reaffirms that rest is more attractive than suffering for their purpose. They’d rather pay me with their moments and thoughts than fix the issues around them. And let’s be honest, my services are so valuable because I offer the easier way out. V’s fitness plans are so hard. Too hard for the average person, right? I know this is something you’ve thought about a lot lately, isn’t it, Brittany?”

---

I continued to wade into the pool. I took a moment to attempt to observe my surroundings. Like they said. Be more mindful, right?

The water was calm and cool. A woman had just walked in with five other teenage girls. Four girls rushed into the indoor section of the pool. One girl stayed with the woman on the outdoor patio.

Alright… what was it that they said I should do? Right. Get the blood flowing. Right…

I dipped under the surface of the water and felt the full weight of it pull my locs back down as I came up for air.

I churned the water as I switched from freestyle strokes to back strokes to butterfly strokes back to freestyle. I didn’t care about my form. Didn’t care about how much water I was splashing. As fast as I could, I swam. From what? Or was it from who?

Four laps in, I was out of breath. I stopped and allowed my head to dip under the surface. Was all the air being sucked out of my lungs? Or did I give my air away?

Beyond my control…or was I in control?… I continued to sink.

---

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Total Words: 4,355

I jolted out of my reverie and in the direction the executioner was staring in. He stared out across the pond. The koi fish happily played with each other just underneath the water’s surface. He hesitated, then asked, “So how’d it feel to lose all feeling in your head there?”

“Huh? Oh? That?” The question broke my train of thought. “Yeah. That totally wasn’t fun.”

He chuckled. “Thought I’d let you have a free trial of what it would feel like to have no head like you wished. Figured it wasn’t really what you wanted.”

I chuckled with him, but could feel the tears welling behind the laughter. “Yeah… but like, I don’t even know anymore.”

He looked down at me compassionately. “I know…” he whispered. “You’re in a lot of pain right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” The tears were flowing freely now. “And I-I’m not sure how I’m gonna make it. I don’t know if I want to make it.”

The executioner was quiet. He continued to stare out in the distance but put an arm around my shoulder. While his hand was very cold, his gesture was very warm and full of concern. He continued to let me talk.

“Like, I think I’m crazy because it’s all in my head. But the doctors looked at my head and said I’m not crazy. And I hate that I can’t be crazy right now.” I unconsciously grabbed my head with both hands and sobbed. “What am I supposed to do? Like no one can help me right now. And I hate to have them see me like this. I just want this to be over.”

“Hey, look at me.” He got up and bent down to my eye level. “I’m terribly sorry you’ve been suffering as much as you have. One of my biggest pet peeves is to see anyone needlessly suffer. That’s why I have this job. And while we don’t know each other very well and aren’t friends, I want you to know…I’m here for you. In any way.”

I looked deep into his eyes. They were a deep, dark brown, and soulful. I could feel he was speaking sincerely. With that, he slapped his knee, stood up, and sat back on the bench. “So right here and now…how can I help you?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I mean, thanks to you, I know now that losing my head (or not being able to feel it at all) isn’t quite what it’s cracked up to be. Do you only do executions?”

“Actually no. I don’t. Executions are a special order typically. But you could say, I am in the business of ‘permanent endings’, you might call it. It’s a pretty lucrative business since the laws of science dictate that I must exist for all things, including stars and entire universes. I find ways to use entropy in whatever manner to dissolve any union between two or more entities.”

“So, you’re like a divorce lawyer?”

“Ah! Yes! Like that, but think of a doctor, lawyer, professional cleaning, garbage and sewage service, and sales team all wrapped into one. Therapy services also come with the job. Only thing I am not is that I am not a president, king, or lord or god. Most people mistake me for that. I’ve had many names throughout history like Hades, Anubis, Mors, Hel, etc. But almost all cultures got wrong who I actually am and what I actually do. So they often paint me as the bad guy, when I’m just doing a job that I’m good at… providing mercy and rest to those who are in desperate need of it and redistributing their building blocks toward another use. ”

“So…what is your name actually? And if you’re not a god, then what are you?”

“Ah yes!” He jumped up, excitedly pulled out a black business card from his back pocket and gave an exaggerated bow. “Ángel de Muerte at your service! But since you speak English, you can just call me Angel.”

“Angel of Death? Like THE Angel of Death from…the Bible?”

“Yup. The very one and the same!” He beamed. “Love that I got my big debut in that Book.”

I took a deeper look at his business card. It was crisp, shiny and heavy. A metal card? It had inscribed in silver foil, a shield with two wings on the sides, a single serpent wrapped around a stick and crossed bones at the bottom. On the other side, he had his name on the top line with “Specializing in All Manner of Death” underneath followed with “By Appointment Only”.

I was silent for a very long moment. I could feel my heartbeat increase. “I was taught to not like you. In fact, I don’t think we should be talking…”

“As I’ve said…almost all cultures and religions have painted me out to be the bad guy. Especially the one you’re a part of. …Like I have control over who needs my services.” He snorted and shook his head. “I’m just doing a job. Just like any other person with a job to do, as unpleasant as that job is.”

“So you’re saying you’re not the bad guy?”

“Exactly!” Angel sat back down on the bench with a huff.

“So if you’re not the bad guy…who is?”

“Depends… bad guy/good guy… it’s all subjective. But in the end of the day, my ‘boss’ is whoever orders my services. Ultimately, the people who order my services and cannot actually pay for it are the ‘bad guys’, I guess. But my team doesn’t handle the accounts payable part. Personally, I wouldn’t even call most of them bad guys. Just misled. Everyone has their reasons for why they choose my services and due to every nation’s privacy laws, I don’t disclose exactly why my services were chosen. Instead, I let the person decide if they’d like to share. Gotta maintain professionalism, right?”

“But you’re an angel. Not a god.”

“You got that right. Created by the Most High above. And I don’t have the same power a god has. Humans, however, do have the powers of the gods. They don’t realize that at all. So, despite whatever my thoughts are, I must take a job as soon as a person tells me they need my services and offer me the time needed as payment.”

I chewed the inside of my lip as I thought more about what he was saying. “So like, in Exodus… when you debuted and took the firstborn sons of everyone in Egypt…”

“Oh yes… let’s talk about that. So Most High, blessed be His Name, put in a very large order. But then again, He can, since He has unlimited and endless time. Remember, Most High and His Universe, work on a true balance system. So the lives of the firstborn sons when Moses was born were taken ‘unjustly’ (even for me), right? What happened is the Pharaoh of the time ordered my services with a ‘blank check’ that bounced. He paid with time that he didn’t own, in this case, the innocent lives of the firstborn sons of Israel. Most High waited a generation to see if Pharaoh would pay what he owed. The Israelites made several reports over the years to Most High that the payment was not settled, so Most High was like, ‘Let’s see if he’ll listen and make an equal payment after 9 ‘merciful demonstrations’. Although Pharaoh could never rebuild and bring back the souls of the firstborn sons, Most High was willing to settle the debt with a release of the Israelite slaves, meaning that Pharoah would need to make a statement to the universe that he truly did not have means to pay for those lives and like bankruptcy court, you acknowledge to the world that you have no credibility. Most High knew that the lives of those children could never be replaced, but as much as He tried, He also knew that Pharaoh wouldn’t have a change of heart even after those demonstrations. So he placed a very large ‘blank check’ order with me for all of the firstborn sons across Egypt to rebalance the displacement of firstborns ordered by the Egyptians. To ensure that the order was truly balanced, He then ordered the Israelites, his Chosen, to use the blood from a lamb and post it above their front doors so I knew that they’d already been paid for. Most High knew that I needed to be compensated in time, and lifeblood is a great form of currency to represent time for me. So the life of the innocent lambs signaled to me that this home had already ‘paid’, and I could ‘pass over’ the home to the next home.”

“I see, so the removal of time (or in this case, blood) is how you operate.”

“Yep… I know… it’s kind of archaic, but it’s highly effective. But you know, blood isn’t the only form of currency for me. I’ll take anything honestly. So long as that thing transfers your time to me, I’m satisfied. Blood is just the quickest form of payment, however.”

“So I don’t have to pay you in blood then?”

“No actually. You don’t. And actually, you’ve already had a similar ‘special payment’ mark on your heart. So that’s why I didn’t readily agree to removing your head like that. On my record, you already died and were reprocessed. So there’s no need to reprocess you again. Reality is, you really do have time left already because Someone opted to offer his time in place of yours and you had previously accepted that time replacement. So that’s why we can just talk and get to know each other right now. Sadly, most people cannot, do not, or will not have the time to meet and talk with me.”

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Words: 1,650

Total Words: 3, 193

Disclaimer:

This work is part-memoir; “large” part-fiction, meant to help the reader understand the inner workings of a woman with deep faith and a crazy imagination. This work is my best attempt to make sense of some of the craziest curveballs life has thrown at me and at history. For privacy reasons, you may notice that the names of some people and places have been changed. You may also observe that the fictional places and people appear real. Certain long-standing institutions, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary. Trigger warning: the following content deals with tough topics like suicidal ideation and chronic and mental illness. Reader discretion is advised. For the month of November 2023, my goal is to provide the reader with anywhere between 1200-2000 words a day until we reach 50,000 words. Thank you for your help and your open mind. Happy Reading!

I stepped into the pool. From the outside, I’m sure I looked like all things were normal. Just a woman going for a swim. On the inside, I was in agony. Five months of not one but two nonstop headaches at the same time. Five months of acid down my eye and arm, daily falls, partial seizures, facial and sleep paralysis… getting what felt like lightning strikes every hour on the hour… whatever this was, it was torture, and this torture was making me crazy. At least that’s what I hoped it was doing.

“Nope. You’re not crazy.” I thought back to what the doctor shared. “We can clearly see a lesion on the part of your brain and brain stem that controls your motor function. No diagnosis yet as to what this is. But you’re not crazy. You’re feeling exactly what we’d expect you to feel.”

I hated that she told me that. If only I could say I was crazy… that my body was just making this up… then I could override all of this with a quick and terse comment to myself like “Whatever, Boo-Boo. You’re just crazy. Suck it up, Buttercup…” and then move on.

But I couldn’t, and because I couldn’t just give my body a quick, passing answer to whatever this crisis was…and none of the doctors knew (yet) what to call this… I was in even more agony.

I shook my head and waded through the water. I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. Throughout the night, I’d wake up from my sleep unable to breathe… unable to feel my head…and my right arm and leg for that matter. I’d shoot up out of sleep attempting to get the feeling back. And after a while, the feeling would slowly come back. Once I’d drift off, I’d lose all feeling again.

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My dreams that night were pretty vivid. He visited me again. This time without his prior executioner’s attire and instead in street clothes. He wore a hoodie and sweat pants. His long, black hair was neat, but loose and fingernails trimmed. He smelled like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He met me at a park and a nice budding cherry blossom tree. “Hey Brittany… how are you feeling today?” His voice was kind and full of concern. He invited me to sit on the park bench below the cherry blossom tree.

“Oh…” I sighed. “My head hurts…as usual. Actually, today I could barely feel it. As in, I had no feeling.”

“Oh really?”

I thought back to the first time we met in a previous vivid dream. The French Revolution was occurring before my eyes. The guillotine was still sharp though it was caked with the blood of hundreds for that day. I stood in a long line of aristocrats and peasants alike. Some of them looked mortified. Some were so scared they had peed themselves. Others were furious with rage and looked defiantly at the crowd.

I…was dazed…but calm for the majority of the walk to the guillotine. When I was next in line, I felt surprisingly very calm as I walked up the steps to the platform. The executioner paused. He was tall and broad. He wore a brown hood over his head to cover his face. He was covered in blood.

“You’re not French.” He said in English with an American accent. He sounded like he also spoke Spanish? Or was it Italian? “You’re not even from this time. This time is too early for you. Why are you here?”

“I don’t know…” I started. “I think I was just following the crowd and ended up here.”

“What a crowd to follow,” he chuckled. “There had to be more of a reason for why you’re on my platform now…”

I sighed and eyed the guillotine. My eyes followed the drops of blood that dripped from its blade to the severed heads on the ground below.

“I think I want to ask more about your services. All those people below don’t have and can’t have headaches anymore. My head hurts soooo so bad. And I can’t remember a time or imagine a time when I didn’t or won’t have one. It’s that bad.”

He stepped back, crossed his arms and leaned against his guillotine. The crowd started booing and throwing rotten food at the platform. I didn’t care. It all sounded like how it felt inside anyway.

“So you want to remove your head?”
“Yes. …I mean… I think so. I figured if I didn’t have a head, I wouldn’t have to suffer or deal with this anymore.”
“Hmm…” he paused. “I mean…I could do that for you. But I’m really only getting paid to handle the bourgeoisie and any sympathizers right now. Are you sympathetic to the monarchy?”

I gave him a sarcastic look. “Does it look like I’m sympathetic? I’m a Black American woman from the next millennium. It’s kind of in my blood to hate monarchies…” I chuckled but quickly grabbed the right side of my head as I winced in pain. As the acid feeling went down my eye and right arm again, I started to lose my balance. “Look…” I said through my teeth as I grabbed onto a post. “I’m really just here because I can’t seem to shake this darn headache…”

The executioner rushed over and caught me before I fell into the crowd. The crowd leered. “Tell ya what… You look like you’re in a lot of pain right now and it wouldn’t be right to make you suffer like this… I can do this one thing for you if you’d like. But you gotta be sure. My services are more permanent than that tattoo in your left arm there. You ready to make a decision right now? Or did you need some time?”

“Thanks. And what’s the cost for this? You said that you’re here for the French right now?”

“Yep. I’ve got a blank check for all French monarchists right now. So unless you want to be for the crown, you’d have to pay for this service out of your pocket.”

“I see. And how expensive is this…” I gestured at the guillotine, “…service?”

“Simple. Just time. I get paid in time. The one commodity that can never be replenished, replaced or restored…by humans that is. So in your case…” he sized me up. “40-50 years give or take… in short… all the rest of the time you have.”

I considered this. I mean, I wasn’t surprised. What human survives losing a head? But no more pain? No more suffering? Just nothing…or something…in the afterlife?

At that moment, my pup and husband came to mind. “Question: who would walk my dog after you do this? And who would make sure Nick got to his appointments on time, keep the house neat for him and make sure he was emotionally okay?” The crowd started chanting, “Avec sa tête!” at the top of their lungs.

“Well… it wouldn’t be you… that’s for certain. I don’t know many headless wives that survived to live another day to walk their dog or make sure their husbands were okay.”

“I see…” My project manager mind started racing through everything I still had left to do. “Mind if I sleep on this? Will you be here later?”

“No, I don’t mind. But I’ll meet you somewhere else. Somewhere where there’s not a cruel, blood thirsty crowd.” He gestured to the crowd that was now ready to jump on the platform and throw me in the guillotine themselves.

He pushed me away from the edge of the platform and escorted me toward another set of steps on the far end of the platform.

“How will I find you?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” He lifted his hood with his gloved hands to show me his face for the first time. If I didn’t know any better, he looked like anyone I would find on the street, that took care of themselves and worked out. The only feature of his that stood out were the fine black line tattoos on his neck. His neck was fully covered in different designs of eyes. He winked. “Just so you remember what I look like.” And with that he walked me down the steps and into the crowd.

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Post Word Count: 1,543

Total Word Count: 1,543