My Mountain Nate Weil I woke up early that fateful morning... I was excited. Today I was going to do it! I started my mountain at about the size of a small cup. But slowly, as the morning wore on, it grew. By the time lunch was over, it was the size of a crock-pot, maybe bigger. I cared for my mountain. I sang to it. I talked with it. I sat in front of it for endless hours, just looking at it. I ate dinner hurriedly, and rushed back to its side. By now it was almost a mature mountain. Tall, proud, and beautiful. At bedtime, I smiled. I had grown the perfect mountain in my own house! On my way to bed I said goodnight to my parents. But before I could escape my dad said, "You still have to do the dishes John," and with a defeated sigh I trudged back to the kitchen to dismantle my mountain.
My Pet Daddy Longleg Nate Weil I have a pet daddy long leg. That may sound weird, but it gets weirder. I hate spiders. Why do I have a pet spider then? Mom. Well, in conjunction with my uncle. Oh yeah... my deceased uncle. It was his last gift to me. Unfortunately he wasn't aware of my... problem. Then he died. So now, because Mom's so sentimental, I'm stuck with the creepiest creature on Earth. Until it dies. Which, if all goes well, will be... soon. In fact, I hear Mom screaming now. Bye!
The Valley Nate Weil "Thanks," I said gratefully, accepting his outstretched hand. I had wanted to be alone, just me and nature. But I couldn't refuse my old friend, and now I was glad I had his assistance. I climbed up onto the rock, and sat down on the ledge. Sighing contentedly, I looked out over the valley. It looked like a miniature version of The Garden Of Eden, only in Mississippi. And we were the only ones who knew about it. Me and Lewis had found it when we were ahead of the camp, and decided not to tell anyone. And now that we were old men with nothing pressing to do, we frequented the place periodically. "I never get tired of it," he said reverently. "You and I both," I replied. "If Heaven is half as beautiful as this valley, I'll be happy there fore eternity." The Sun slowly sank lower. The sky turned orange, the clouds a fiery red. And as the Sun slipped behind a cloud, a litter of sun rays were born and scrambled off their separate ways. As the sky darkened, stars started populating it, honoring the two with their beauty, while the two greatest American explorers got up to go back home.
What I Didn't Do Nate Weil I left my body with a feeling of content; I had lived a happy, full life and I wasn't that bad of a person if I do say so myself. I didn't do anything especially good like going to a third world country to help out but I donated to charities regularly, I went to church, I believed in God. So I really wasn't worried as I lined up with the other souls freed that day, waiting to be admitted into Heaven or sent to Hell. Saint Peter was at the front of the line, sitting at a table with a big book in front of him. The gate to Heaven was right behind him, standing open invitingly. Each soul walked up to him, and he sent them through. But once in a while he frowned and crossed their name off the list, and a lightning bolt carried that person away. Finally it was my turn. He nodded to me after a moment and sent me in. I noticed in his book that the next person's name was red. I looked back curiously just in time to see a lightning bolt strike him and he disappeared forever. With a shudder I turned around and hurried over to the other souls that made it through. No one spoke, we just stood there, looking around, seeing how many souls were left. Finally the last soul made it in. He came over, and we waited for a moment. Then God came through the gate and walked through it to us. After him came a number of angels equal the the number of souls standing there. Each angel was carrying knitting supplies. They gave their knitting supplies to us, until we each had what we needed to make a quilt. We picked up our stuff, and God said, "Begin." I started knitting little squares, and as each one was completed it floated over to the other squares I had done, attaching itself to add to the quilt. Then it showed something good I had done in my life. Then a horn blew, and we all put our stuff down. I looked around at the group. My quilt was a little more than halfway done, some others had done better, others less. God looked at our quilts, then we received new supplies. God told us to begin again and make new quilts. So we started working on another quilt each, this one without images on it though. It was just a plain white quilt. After a while, a horn sounded again and we all stopped. Looking at my new quilt I saw that this one was different. It was full square work of art, but it had holes all over. It looked very ragged indeed. I noticed that most others were the same. We looked at God questioningly, waiting for him to say or do something. After looking at them, God said, "Your first quilt was made of everything good you have done in your life." He paused for a moment. "I would like to congratulate all of you, because those quilts, even the lesser ones, were fine quilts indeed." We looked at each other, all smiles but God wasn't finished. "Now, your second quilts. Those quilts are also made of good deeds. But unlike your first quilts, they show you how much more you could have done that you didn't do. They show opportunities to do good that you passed up for one reason or another. And that is what really matters. Some of you gave all you could, though you had little. Some of you hardly gave anything, though you had plenty." I looked at my second quilt again, and it looked more ragged than before. My face fell, I was ashamed. Now my quilt was showing every time in life that I could have helped someone, but didn't. It showed when I bought an item for pleasure instead of donating to charity. Some were crying now, some were just standing there, not sure what to do. After a while, God said, "Though some did better than others, you all made it through the gate for a reason. You have all been tried, and found deserving of my kingdom." And with that, everything went white. When I regained my sight, I was in Heaven.
Writer's Paradise Nate Weil I was out in nature, miles from civilization, relaxing against a tree in a bed of moss. At my disposal, from spring to winter, were the four seasons. A flute, accompanied by an African drum, set the mood. The trees joined in with their quiet, shy voices, little more than whispers. The sun was just starting on its long, slow journey to bed, giving me plenty of time to write. I drew inspiration from nature. Birds, clouds, storms, waves, volcanos, everything. It was all spread out before me, all I had to do is choose my destination. I moved to the beach as the sun drifted down lazily. It hid momentarily behind a cloud, and a litter of sun rays were born, and they scampered across the sky in all directions. As the sun slipped below the horizon, I moved closer to my fire, its glow surrounding the immediate area with a warm atmosphere. An ocarina lent its sad, longing tune to the soundtrack of my fantasy. Finally, the crowning moment. The stars came out to play in the protective arms of the Milky Way, which arced majestically across the night sky. Lying on my back, I started counting Heaven's citizens but of course I had to give up, so I settled for admiring their endless beauty. As reality returns, the last wisps of my dream drift away, and my room returns to normal. But, looking down at my once empty sheet of paper now filled with beautiful, elegant words, I'm reassured that Writer's Paradise really does exist.
Freedom's Call Nate Weil "Here you are!" The clown with a ridiculously wide smile said to the little boy, handing him a big red balloon. The child ran off exuberantly with his prize bobbing on its leash, tied securely to his wrist. With each rhythmic pull, the balloon attempted to escape. Slowly floating down, then a sudden flurry of movement sending it soaring higher, only to be pulled back by the torturous string tied around its neck. But it didn't give up as the boy and his father walked around, enjoying the festival and the brisk autumn weather. The balloon rested for a few minutes. It looked up with envy at a flock of birds. They were so happy, playing tag with the leaves and surfing on the wind. The boy pointed up in excitement as they passed under a tree with a cat high up on a limb. Seizing the opportunity, the balloon poured every last ounce of energy it had left into one more attempt. The string tightened, straining against the boy's wrist. Then it snapped, sending the balloon tumbling through the air. With newfound joy the balloon danced around, back and forth, all the while rising. But soon it was caught in the tree, frantically dodging sharp branches and squirrels. Back and forth, each near miss giving the balloon more determination. Nothing was going to stop it now! The balloon burst out of the tree in a flurry of green spring leaves, only to stop in awe and wonder. In front of it was the gaping sky, an endless light blue ocean with one beautiful yellow marble of fire gliding across its expanse, at a speed so slow that it would take all the patience in the world to notice. Looking down, the balloon could see that it was now higher than the birds dared to go. Unlike the birds, it had to fight for freedom, but now it could soar above the birds' highest dreams. However, the balloon wasn't done yet. As it pushed on further into this new adventure, the faintest signs of the stars taunted it, urging it to keep going. The sky gradually made a change from light blue to a rich, deep, velvet blue, invoking feelings of mystery, infinite depth, and comfort all at once. Finally Earth's protective cloak fell away, revealing in all their beauty the countless billions of angels in the darkness. Here the balloon changed course. It chose to follow the arm of The Milky Way which arced across the sky, a breathtaking stairway to Heaven, a rainbow for the universe. The balloon was getting frantic. No matter how fast it moved, the stars never seemed to get closer. And as if that wasn't enough, it was starting to slow down. Finally it came to a point where it could no longer move. It just hung there, in between the prison it loathed and the beauty it yearned for. No sound, no movement, no feeling. It couldn't go up, and wouldn't go down. Then, in that moment of despair, he burst. With no one to cry over him, no one near who loved him, his existence ended. His shredded, hollow body fell down, gradually breaking down into shimmering glitter. His remains fluttered onto another little boy, with another father, buying another balloon, which was already trying frantically to escape. But our little red hero was now forever free to roam the universe with no leash, no harness, no body. Just his new soul... for eternity.
Music of the Soul Nate Weil Athletes call it 'The Zone' with reverence. Artists call it a masterpiece as they sink back in a chair, exhausted. Scientists yell 'eureka!' as they rush to complete the experiment before the moment passes. But as a musician, there is no describing it in its entirety. But fortunately, it is possible to give a glimmer at least, of what it is like. I walk up to the piano with the sound of the old lady in front saying, "oh, isn't he ever cute!" trailing just behind. I was expecting this; she had said that of everyone else who had played. My fellow students and I are at a seniors home, to perform for the residents. I'm about to play the latest song I learned, which is also my best to date, for the first time in front of an audience. "Hi. I'm Nate Weil, and today I will play my own arrangement of 'The Giving' by Michael W. Smith." With my announcement out of the way, I sit down at the piano with a smile of pleasant surprise. It clearly hasn't been maintained. This will give my performance an extra touch. I start off slow, lingering over every passionate note. Then I pick up the pace, in a rapid succession of broken chords that build up to my favorite part. Now I hit the climax, my fingers stretching an octave apart, my hands at opposite ends of the piano, pounding on the keys but with just an ounce of reservation. Finally the moment I've been waiting for. My quickened heartbeat for a temp, My fingers flying in a flurry of passion, my foot moving up and down as fast as possible to keep up with my hands, my body quivering as I pour every atom of emotion and fervor into each rich note. I feel as though I'm on the crest of a musical wave, moving forward so fast that just one mistake will send me tumbling to a painful and embarassing end. But I don't. My fingers keep moving, and my mind takes a backseat while a flood of unnamed, untouched raw emotions keep me on track. My eyes glaze over as I lose myself in what rightfully shouldn't be coming from me. Then, after what seems like more than the thirty seconds it took to play the part, the song glides over the remains of the wave, which has shrunk to a realistic size. My pulse is still racing ahead, leaving me behind to wrap up the song, drag my mind out of hiding, and stand up shakily to bow. I'm pretty sure I played the song through without stopping, but I can't remember the middle except as a hazy dream lurking in the shadow of my mind, a word that I just can't think of. But after I take my seat, it comes back to me. I remember now, how in an amazing way I was deprived of playing my favorite song, as something that couldn't have been me took over. Afterword: Looking back, I have the feeling there was a lot more to that short period of time than the human mind can comprehend, possibly something I was never meant to experience. Something no one is ever supposed to know about. But despite those possibilities, as a writer I am compelled to write about it, to capture the impossible in the confined prison of human words. And now, having done this, I can only hope that you, as a reader, can understand at the very least that such things do exist, and can happen to anyone. Or at least, if you have not been privileged to encounter it in your lifetime, that by reading what I wrote you can experience just a sliver of it's beauty. ~Nate Weil
In God's Eyes Nate Weil My last glimpse of the Earth was filled with the tearful faces of my family and many friends I had found throughout my life. I was happy and content; in fact I was looking forward to seeing what death, more specifically Heaven with an luck, was like. I had read what other people said, the ones who claim to have died then come back. As someone on my deathbed for nearly a year, the afterlife became the only adventurous thing I could do. I planned on being as observant as possible. Not that I told anyone, they'd just laugh. It was my secret. The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming sense of lightness, of freedom. Yet at the same time I was stuck on the course I was on. I saw my body below, slowly sinking into black. Soon everything I could 'see' was black as night... or death, anyways. Then I noticed a light far off, directly in front of me. With nothing better to do, I decided to walk towards it. As my 'eyes' adjusted, I observed that I was in a seemingly endless tunnel. Not only that, but it was filled with spirits. Furthermore, I recognized them. "John!" one elderly one screamed, floating towards me. "ma?!" I said with dismay. She hadn't been the most Christian person in the family, I wasn't sure if seeing her was such a good thing. "Don't worry, this isn't H•••." She said, but an annoying buzz covered the last word. "Bill!!! Cut that out already! You already scared Frank halfway to H••• when he died!" Again, the buzz rang out just in time. "Just ignore your pa, he's been at it for eons. God sticks us out here whenever a relative dies, but you know he gets bored so easily, and God saw fit to keep him that way." "So... what happens now?" I asked uncertainly. "Well, you just keep walking towards the light, and all of us are going back to Heaven." She replied. Then, with one last hug, she left with everyone else, leaving me to make my way to the light. As I emerged from the tunnel, I sank about a foot into what appeared to be a cloud. Regaining my balance, I took a tenative step forward. I felt like I was walking on something just a touch more firm than air, but it held. Taking notice of my surroundings, I saw that we were indeed on a cloud, with other clouds of fascinating variety floating by. I say 'we' because I wasn't alone. I was at the end of a long line of souls that stretched on for ages, stopping at a big golden gate in the distance. One 'hour' passed. Two 'hours' passed. Three 'hours' passed. Finally I was only twenty people away, and could see what was happening. Everyone was getting split into 5 queues, an angel at each one. A bigger angel with a loudspeaker was yelling out directions. "When you get to the front of the line, choose the station that has it's light on! Don't say anything, don't try concealing anything, just do as the angel at the station says!" The lady behind me giggled saying, "he's got a pimple on h----" I turned in time to see a lightning bolt zap her, knocking her off the cloud pathway. Her scream slowly faded away in the distance that swallowed her up. With a gulp I quickly turned back around. At the front of the line, I moved to station one. I stepped onto the conveyor belt with everyone else. First it brought us through what looked like a metal detector. "If you're a terrorist, please inform Saint Peter at the gate!" The angel at our station said. After the metal detector, the angel frisked each of us, then directed us over to the gate, where an elderly man in robes was waiting with a huge book, sitting at a table. "Check in is over here!" He said with a gruff voice. All of us went over to him. The man in front of me told the man something, and was moved to the side. He looked wistfully at those who had already passed through the gate. When it was my turn, I noticed the man's volunteer sticker. It read, 'Hello, my name is PETER'. "What's your story?" Peter asked. "Huh?" "Your life. Give me a brief synopsis." "Well... I've been Roman Catholic my whole life, I go to church every Sunday and on holy days, I donate to charity regularly...." My voice trailed off. I realized I didn't have much to say. "Hmmm... Ok. I'd like you to walk through the gate now." With a nod of gratitude, I did as I was told. Looking back, I saw Peter get up and talk to the man who had been pulled aside. I could tell that he was being lectured. Finally Peter patted his shoulder and the man hurried over, catching up with me. "He said I made it... for now." The man said despondently. "You'll be fine," I said reassuringly. He looked at me gratefully as we walked into the blinding light together. As my vision returned, I saw a field. In fact, we were standing in it. Huddled together was a group of souls, so we joined them. Everyone was talking quietly, saying things like "what happens now?" and "did you hear about...". Then everyone shut up as a figure dressed in white approached. Not only was he wearing white, he was wearing a white golfer's outfit. Slung on his shoulder was a golf club, and his sticker read 'Hello, my name is God'. "Hey everyone!" He said with a surprisingly normal voice. "Welcome to my front yard!" We looked at each other, unsure of what to do, or what to make of God. I think it's safe to assume none of us pictured this. With a sigh, God flicked his finger. Now he looked like a stereotypical Jesus character. "Happy?" he asked us with an impatient look. "You wouldn't believe how annoying it is, having to wear this just because that's all anyone recognizes as what I would wear. Okay... Where was I? Oh yes, introductions! We'll go in a circle. Hi, I'm God, your stereotypical omnipotent being." he said, finishing with chuckle. "Hi, I'm Andy," my new friend said. "Hi, I'm John," I said, and everyone else followed suit. "Ok, let's get started. Serious faces now, people." God said. Then after a short pause, he burst out laughing. "ok ok ok... just give me a moment!" he said, gasping for breath. Turning away, he came back without the laughter, looking at all of our unsmiling faces. "Ok, NOW we can begin." He started pacing back and forth. "I'm happy to announce that all of you have made it to Heaven." A sigh of relief went around the circle, and everyone relaxed visibly. "That being said, none of you are going there yet. You must go to purgatory first. But before I send you there, I'd like to do a little excersize." I could see that God was being serious now, no more bad jokes. "I want all of you to pick up the knitting kits in front of you." Looking down, we all found the kits, which definitely hadn't been there before. "Now, start knitting." I'd never Knitted in my life, but apperently I missed out, because I had a natural knack for it. Then, everyone else seemed to as well. When we finished, they all floated up in front of us, near God, who was now dressed as a strict school teacher. "Tsk tsk... children, I'm quite dissapointed. You see, your quilts were only finished relative to how much good work you did during your life." I smiled a little, I seemed to have done pretty well. "But we're not done yet." start a second quilt each." he, or rather she said. When we finished, our new quilts floated up in front of our first ones. Our second ones were more hole than quilt. "These second ones represent something much more important than the first. Each square on these quilts represents a chance each of you had to do a good deed. If you passed on that opportunity, that square did not get knitted." I wasn't smiling anymore, mine was just as bad as everyone elses. "Now, examine your lives very carefully. Do you notice anything?" she, I mean he, said. Looking up, the distinct image of suffering Christ was visible in each person's life, made up of the holes in our sorry existences. We all started crying. That picture was so lifelike, his sad eyes looking right at us. "You don't get a second chance to go live a perfect life. I just want all of you to understand that by going to purgatory, you will be turning that image around, giving Christ a completed quilt for him to put his smiling countenance on. And now, to cheer you guys up, I would like to show you a glimpse of Heaven before you go to purgatory. We followed him through an arch made of young trees that smelled of spring, and my 'jaw' dropped in awe of the beauty before me.
The Real Rumpelstiltskin Nate Weil Once there was a boy named Trufflefairskin. He was the local prince charming, and everyone admired him. One day, an old man came to town and asked him for some food and shelter for the night. Laughing at the man, he denied him both. But then the man cast off his ragged cloak, revealing himself to be a wizard. He cursed Trufflefairskin, making him short and ugly with a hunched back. Finally, the wizard changed his name to Rumpelstiltskin. With that, he vanished in a puff of smoke. No one except his mother believed that he was the same person, now he was just a nobody that could be laughed at. No one liked him anymore, and his life became unbearable. Finally, he decided to move away. Leaving a note to his mother, he left with only the clothes on his back to start a fresh life in another kingdom. He lived off of the odd job, sleeping under the stars at night. He was starting to enjoy life again. One morning, he awoke to the sound of royal trumpets, announcing the royal carriage. As the countless royal horses bearing members of the royal court passed, Rumpelstiltskin saw a chance to change his life. As the carriage itself approached, he jumped in front of it. The driver slammed on the brakes, and the horses screeched to the halt. As the dust settled a royal boot stepped onto the ground, followed by the other. And there before him stood King Midas. Boldly Rumpelstiltskin walked up to the king and said, "Your majesty, I am a poor traveller seeking a secure life. Might I become a page in your court?" The king liked him instantly, and granted him the honor of serving him. Over the years, Rumpelstiltskin became the King's closest friend and advisor. Then, one day, King Midas became very sick. The doctors said he only had not long to live. On his deathbed, the king called Rumpelstiltskin to his side, and shared his greatest secret; how to turn objects into gold. Then, he died. In his grief and rage, Rumpelstiltskin travelled back to his old village. There he turned everyone but his mother into gold. After calming down, he thought things through. King Midas and his mother were the only two people in the world who accepted him for who he was. Thought he longed to start a family, he knew no one would marry him. So he decided instead to move to a new town with his mother. Life in their new home was good. He stayed out of sight, and no one knew that someone aside from his mother lived in their home. But then, one day, he read something in the local newspaper which gave him an idea. There was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the King. In order to make himself appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold." The King said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well; if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-morrow to my palace, and I will try what she can do." And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die." Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for her life could not tell what to do; she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more miserable, until at last she began to weep. But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, Mistress Miller; why are you crying so?" "Alas!" answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it." "What will you give me," said the manikin, "if I do it for you?" "My necklace," said the girl. The little man took the necklace, walked up to the haystack, and touched it. By day-break the King was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door again opened, and the little man appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?" "The ring on my finger," answered the girl. The little man took the ring, again touched the hay, and by morning had turned all the straw into glittering gold. The King rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough; and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night; but if you succeed, you shall be my wife." "Even if she be a miller's daughter," thought he, "I could not find a richer wife in the whole world." When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?" "I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl. "Then promise me, if you should become Queen, your first child." "Who knows whether that will ever happen?" thought the miller's daughter; and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more turned the straw to gold. And when the King came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a Queen. A year after, she had a beautiful child, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you promised." The Queen was horrorstruck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something that is living is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world." Then the Queen began to weep and cry, so that the manikin pitied her. "I will give you three days' time," said he; "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child." So the Queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another; but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name." On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighbourhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. "Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?" But he always answered, "That is not my name." On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping: he hopped upon one leg, and shouted - "'To-day I bake, to-morrow brew, The next I'll have the young Queen's child. Ha! glad am I that no one knew That Rumpelstiltskin I am styled." You may think how glad the Queen was when she heard the name! And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now Mistress Queen, what is my name?" At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?" "No." "Is your name Harry?" "No." "Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?" "The devil has told you that! the devil has told you that!" cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in; and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two. But the Queen and King, however, lived happily ever after with their child. The end.
A Soldier's Final Flight by Nate Weil As I walk up to the plane, an uncanny sensation penetrates me, like a brisk wind right through my body, giving me goosebumps. I know then that this will not be an ordinary mission. With a deep breath I climb up into the plane, into the copilot's seat, and I put my headset on. A moment before the engine was drowning out all other sounds but now all is quiet. I can't even hear the radio communications because this headset is made specially for me and this flight. I can tell. I look over at my pilot and give him the thumbs up. My Guardian Angel looks back at me with a smile. We both look forward and I notice that this plane has a peculiar feature. There are no controls or instruments. Instead, it has a glass cockpit. I can look anywhere. The plane starts to move, gliding along the ground as if on a cushion of air. We move faster and faster until slowly the ground begins to slip away. I almost don't notice. It is so subtle, sneaking away stealthily. Soon the earth is far below. I look up at the impressive cloud cover. The sun filters through in a few places, producing beautiful sun rays. We climb gently but steadily. One thousand feet, two thousand feet, three thousand feet. Finally we reach the clouds and are immersed in what looks like thick fog. Then, abruptly, we break free of the imprisoning clouds and my breath is stolen. The clouds stretch as far as I can see, most of them white and of impressive shapes. Terrifying dark cumulus nimbus clouds, often referred to as black anvils, are scattered here and there, dominating over the other clouds and seemingly reaching the stars in the sky. I look up at those stars. There are so many of them! Each one shines brightly like an angel, all of them watching over us. Up here the sun is larger, more magnificent. Brilliant rays of light shine in all directions; just like God, bringing life, warmth and light to the earth. Then, the moon. Cold, lifeless, colorless, cruel. Like the devil, it is sitting there, waiting to claim lives forever. Then, an amazing sight. Out of nowhere, a meteor shower begins. Like a horde of demons desperate to break through and ensnare souls, the meteors come. Blazing a furious evil red, they appear to be winning. But like Saint Michael and his Arch Angels, the atmosphere repels each and every one of them, burning them up into nothingness. During this spectacle the clouds were up to something. Now all of them are black and menacing. The air is warmer, and an occasional flash from below reaches us in our small plane. We are descending rapidly until we reach the clouds. Slipping through a small hole into the world below all of my senses are overwhelmed. As soon as we burst through the cloud layer, we are plunged in a terrifying storm! I can feel the heat. Huge lightning bolts branch out in every direction, lighting up the menacing scene. Tremendous booms follow, rocking the plane. I can hear clearly now because my headset has disappeared. Rain and hail slam into the seemingly frail glass cockpit, but it looks like it will hold. Wind rushes by, howling as if in pain. This terrifying scene continues for what seems like eternity. By the end of it I am cowering in my seat, afraid to look, with my fingers in my ears though it is a futile gesture as the noises are too loud. Everything goes blinding white and extremely hot as a lightning bolt passes nearby. I see what looks like a black angel come from the lightning and straight at me. Frozen with fear, I stare into its dark, evil eyes as it passes on its way to Earth. The storm stops. The clouds move off, leaving a beautiful clear blue sky. A glorious rainbow arcs majestically across the sky and the sun shines brighter than ever before. Ahead of us is a gorgeous meadow. Descending now, it is clear that the meadow is our destination. As we approach, I can make out a man standing in the center of the meadow. We touch down, and roll to a quick stop. We are still a good while away from the man. The angel and I get out and walk toward the man. The air smells of spring, birds are singing in the forest surrounding this miniature heaven. The colors here are somehow different, more vibrant. Light is emanating from the stranger, and as we draw closer I can see figures dressed in pure white singing and bowing down low to him. Finally we reach him, and stand there for a moment. Then my life flashes by. Everything I did, from the bad to the good. That time I drank underage, the time I almost committed suicide. But, ending on a high note we also saw the time I got married, and the day I became Christian, the day I joined the Air Force. I am puzzled for a moment, wondering why I am seeing this but then it hits me. I remember being stationed in Afghanistan, being shot down and captured. The endless torture, and the failed escape. I remember now the order for my execution, being lined up with other prisoners. And finally, I remember my guardian angel waiting to take me up to Heavens' gate right after the shots are fired. I look at God, and he nods an affirmative. With tears in his eyes, but a smile on his face God says, "Welcome home, soldier."
Buried in Ash by Nate Weil Just half a minute ago all was calm. Then my world exploded. At least it looked like it had, with a fierce red sky and a menacing mix of fire, ash, and scorching hot rocks raining down, with huge boulders to boot, like the one that had thudded down next to me, sending me flying through the air. I landed hard on the ground. I wasn't hurt as far as I could tell, just stunned. I lay there, my thoughts scrambled like a coded message. I knew I needed to get up, to be anywhere but here. But my body stubbornly refused to obey so I gave up for the moment. As my brain decoded itself and I became more aware, I realized that the ground was rising. And I wasn't. And it was rising fast. Not only that, it was sliding down towards the shore. It was like a flood. I stood up shakily and looked around. The town looked like a battlefield. Bodies were laying in the cracked streets, and survivors where running around... except that they weren't survivors yet. None of us were. The volcano kept tossing more projectiles at us. Most of the buildings had caved in, and those that weren't were in the process. I returned focus to my own situation. The thick ash was still rising and there was nowhere safe to go as far as I could see. As I realized this I started feeling sick. Nowhere to go. This was it. I looked back at the source of this doomsday. It was still spewing out hot rocks, lava, and pyroclastic debris at an alarming rate. I was sinking deeper into the ground, which now had a thick sludge consistency. I kept trying to stay on top but it was impossible. I was slowly sinking. There was no order to my actions, I was just kicking and digging wildly, while choking on the silica cloud that reduced visibility and muffled sound. It was painfully slow, but I was definitely drowning. The ground was swallowing me up. About half an hour later, my whole body was covered. My eyes stung. My mouth and nose were clogging up, I could hardly breathe. Slowly, my head disappeared under the black ocean. I lost track of what was going on as I slowly fell unconcious. Then, the sound of the eruption slowed to a stop and I woke up. Almost out of breath, I frantically clawed to the top. Coughing up a liquid mixture of ash and blood, I lay gasping for breath. The pillar of fire over the volcano was barely bubbling over the rim now. And I was Alive. That was all I could do, is think those words over and over again. Slowly I sat up. I was sore, bruised, cut, and burnt all over. I couldn't remember where I was or why at first, but slowly it came back. A trip to Pompeii. With my older siblings and dad. The volcano erupted without warning. I got separated when the boulder, combined with the pre-eruption earthquake, threw me somewhere. So where was everyone? I looked around. The landscape now consisted of rolling hills of black. With, oddly enough, a light brown path leading off into the distant volcano. There was a long line of people trudging along the path, heads down. A group of about ten was also headed the opposite way, to the sea. I wandered over to the path, looking for my family. I finally found them, standing near the path. They looked almost as bad as me, but not quite. We all hugged and cried for a while. My dad said, "we should get to the sea so someone can pick us up." I looked where he was pointing, then towards the volcano where almost everyone else was going. My dad and siblings started walking towards the beach, but I didn't. I stood there for a moment, looking at the beach, and then the other way at the volcano. Then, surprising even myself, I said, "I think I need to go the other way." My dad turned and looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. We stood there, not saying anything. Then, slowly, he nodded without a word and turned back around. I started walking towards the volcano, along the new path. As I walked, I thought about my whole life. Everything. Not in any particular order. I just relived my numerous memories, good and bad. I finished just as I reached the top of the climb to the volcano. I looked down into the gaping crater. It seemed to go on forever, rapidly fading into mesmerizing pitch blackness. As I looked, a dim light appeared from somewhere below. The light was approaching, coming up from the volcano. As it got closer, it got brighter. It hurt, but I couldn't look away. I just stood there, my toes just over the edge, staring down with the rest of the people that had come up here. It hurt more and more and more, yet still I couldn't move. My mind told me to look away, to do something, anything. The pain was getting unbearable... I wake up with a start. My throat is dry. I'm still half asleep and I wonder how I'm suddenly in bed now. But as I wake up more, I re-enter reality. But unlike any other dream, I still feel like somehow, all that happened. I can still picture it all vividly, more than any other dream. Like... A memory. Soon, my eyes start to close. I roll onto my side, and go back to sleep.