Conference Round: Hastings Match

[Kwan]

* * * Introduction * * *

“You have to understand that, sir. She's not... she wasn't a bad woman. Katie was a good girl. She always helped her friends out. Not once was she's late to a commitment. When her grandmother was sick, she spent every day at the hospital. It was just, well, she liked her stuff, sir. She always loved a good deal. I don't see what's wrong with that; no one should be punished for wanting something extra if there's still good on the inside.”

Robson looked back down at the folder in front of him. A picture of Katie and testimonies from various friends stared up at him. “I don't quite see why you're here,” Robson said, not lifting his eyes to meet the watery stare of Katie's father. “What do you want me to do?”

“Please sir,” the man said, his voice going even higher. “Everyone says you're the most discreet person in Heaven. They all say you do this type of work.”

“And what type of work is that?” Robson asked. He looked at the man now. He could see the crinkled forehead, the bloodshot eyes and the bitten and chewed upon fingernails. No man should be forced to realised that their child had been rejected at the pearly gates.

“To bring her here. To break into Hell.”

[Kwan]

Entry One

“You have to understand that, sir. She's not... she wasn't a bad woman. Katie was a good girl. She always helped her friends out. Not once was she's late to a commitment. When her grandmother was sick, she spent every day at the hospital. It was just, well, she liked her stuff, sir. She always loved a good deal. I don't see what's wrong with that; no one should be punished for wanting something extra if there's still good on the inside.”

Robson looked back down at the folder in front of him. A picture of Katie and testimonies from various friends stared up at him. “I don't quite see why you're here,” Robson said, not lifting his eyes to meet the watery stare of Katie's father. “What do you want me to do?”

“Please sir,” the man said, his voice going even higher. “Everyone says you're the most discreet person in Heaven. They all say you do this type of work.”

“And what type of work is that?” Robson asked. He looked at the man now. He could see the crinkled forehead, the bloodshot eyes and the bitten and chewed upon fingernails. No man should be forced to realised that their child had been rejected at the pearly gates.

“To bring her here. To break into Hell.”

Robson got up from his chair and strode heavily to the door of his office. His cracked knuckles wrapped white around the doorknob as he opened the door.

"Get out." he said low, with a piercing growl added on for serious effect.

"But sir! Katie doesn't deserve her fate! She's a good girl! PLEASE!!!" the man pleaded, tears welling up in his already flushed eyes. "You can do it! They all say you can!"

"I know what they say about me, but one doesn't just break into Hell. There are rules that-"

"I don't care!" The man yelled, fists clenched in anger. "All I want is my daughter!"

Robson stared at the infuriated father. He could feel the man's anger radiating off of him like a furnace. Sure. He had all the right in Heaven to be angry about the situation. At least as far as Robson was willing to guess. He never had children to worry about.

He never got the chance.

"I'll call you." Robson sighed.

"But-!"

"No. I will call you. I haven't made up my mind on this. Preparations have to be made. So if you want me to help you at all you will just have to return to your paradise and wait."

"Katie doesn't have time to wait!" the man yelled, his angry tears finally streaming down his face.

"Sir, this is the Afterlife. Time is the one thing we have in abundance."

Robson motioned his hand for the man to leave. As the irate father passed him by, he shot Robson the hardest and most hateful glare he could muster. Robson hardly registered it, but the sudden yank of the doorknob from his grasp and the radiating slam of the his office door being brutally shut did startle him a bit. He grimaced as he looked at his hand and flexed it, remembering the roundness of the knob for a second. Touch, or more accurately feeling, was hard to describe in Heaven. It wasn't the same on Earth, where sensation would flicker between pin prick response and dull muscular atrophy. Everything had a *similar* feeling in Heaven. One could call it "numb", but if "numb" was set on a higher level of acceptance. The same could be said for even your emotions or your ability to think. It was like... your whole existence was put on the default setting.

Hell, on the other hand, was like you were put on MAXIMUM everything.

Robson walked to the window of his office and tipped his partially closed shades down to look out onto the street. His office was settled neatly into one of the buildings of Main Street (considering that there was only one street in Heaven and it extended for an innumerable distance) and he had view of most of the goings on. He could see the man that had just left his office marching out to the sidewalk from his building, his body hunched in an angry stride. He stopped, looked both ways to cross the street, and as soon as his foot hit pavement he vanished into the air as if he never had been there at all.

The bright and robust avant-garde style of the buildings was a little too much to take in at once and Robson let his shades pop back into place. The architecture hailed back to an older time, but not so long ago. Heaven was a clean mix of past and present, where simplicity of written word and the style of the classic Las Vegas strip merged into glorious fulfillment.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. The nice thing about being dead was that one didn't have to worry about lung cancer anymore. He jerked a cigarette out of the pack and forcefully placed it into his mouth. He wanted to help this man. He really did. The whole situation was, for the most part, screwed up. Still... there was no gray area in the Afterlife. This was black and white and no one was above the rules.

Robson took out his lighter and struck it.

It didn't light.

There was an instance of surprise in his face, holding the lighter back and staring at it. He struck it again, wondering if he had just witnessed a fluke.

It still didn't light.

In the world of the living, this kind of thing would have been an everyday event and not even remotely worth noting. But in Heaven, things just worked. Always. Every time. The sheer lack of mechanical failure was oppressively droll if you'd spent enough time there, wishing something might not work just for the sense of difference.

"Care for a light, big guy?"

A dainty and perfectly manicured hand wafted just inside Robson's peripheral vision and the bright flash of a flame sparked to life in it's palm. He narrowed his eyes at the hand, knowing the features of it both intimately and infamously. He continued to turn his body slowly around before locking eyes with the hand's owner.

"Hello, Lucy." he muttered through the cigarette in his mouth at the slender woman standing before him. He bent down and lit his cigarette on the open palm, making sure to retract quickly to prevent the sudden grasp of his face by her overly beautiful, and deadly, talons.

This woman, this Lucy, was something he knew intrinsically, but every time he saw her he seemed to be drawn into her features as if he was sinking in a pool of quicksand. Her skin was milky soft and pale, like a greek statue in just off-colored marble or the gentle light pink of the very outer edge of a conch shell. Her eyes were large and fluttering, colored a cold cobalt blue that struck contrast to the warmth she radiated all around her. Her clothing of choice was office modest. A clean white blouse that was buttoned almost to the top, save for the last one to not appear stifling. Her skirt was short, but only appropriately, and primer black in shade. Her not-quite platinum blonde hair was carefully pulled into a bun. Horn rimmed glasses adorned her face, which she intentionally pushed back slowly to the bridge of her nose after they had slid down her face a little.

"Hello Patrick," she replied with a voice sweet as caramelized sugar. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Her lower lip sucked in gently under her teeth as she gave Robson a once over. "You look good. Have you been working out? Not bad, though I have to admit that maybe you could use a little more sun," she purred as she reached over and turned on the lamp on Robson's desk. Her other hand lowered slowly and as she did the shades of the office window turned shut and left the room in an unnatural pitch of darkness, save for the lamp.

"Then again," she giggled. "Who am I to judge?"

Even in the limited light, Robson could still make out her full spectrum of color as she proceeded to sit down in the chair across from him. He sat down in his own chair, noting the swift crossing of her legs when he looked at her. That small coy grin spread across her perpetually wet lips and she batted her big eyelashes aggressively.

"This is a business call, Lucy. That's all." Robson chided.

"Oh it's always business with you. We never have fun like we did in the old days." she whimpered cutely, tossing her head back slightly to show the nape of her neck.

"The word "fun" is not what I would use to describe the old days."

Lucy just batted her eyelashes again. "Well... I had fun at least."

Robson just picked up Katie's file and thrust it at the demon. She stared at it for a minute, her deeply seductive nature now wafting away to a more serious and authoritative disposition. She leveled her cold eyes with his as she took hold of the folder and began to pull it away, but stopped briefly.

"You don't mind?" she asked, pointing at the cigarette in Robson's mouth. He begrudgingly relented and let her take her pick from his pack. "Thanks, babe." she winked as she took a cigarette and placed it in her mouth. It lit instantly and she took a long drag as she opened the file.

"It's... a special case." Robson muttered, hoping that she wouldn't ask any questions about where he got the information.

"Katie McGrady," Lucy read, smirking a little. "Aw. It rhymes... sort of."

Robson just rubbed the side of his face.

"Let's see... church goer... volunteer... helpful to her neighbors... good relationship with her family yada yada yada...," the demoness perused the paperwork quickly before her eyes stopped on a single section and she couldn't help but smile. "Oh my oh my! What a naughty girl. Conning her poor grandma out of her estate. And on the woman's death bed, of all places! Tisk tisk. How very sad."

"The aunt was originally entitled to the estate, but she was already quite wealthy and Katie's father was left out after a confrontation with the rest of the family. Clearly she was doing so on his behalf."

"The ends don't justify the means, Patrick. You know that better than anyone." Lucy hissed gleefully. Robson just wriggled his nose at the comment as she continued. "No. This greedy little girl is getting what she deserves. Funny. The Investigations Department must be slipping if they think they can fly this sort of thing under my nose. Oh well..."

"But if they have the file, then it must be worth considering." Robson reasoned.

"Not really." Lucy sighed in return, rocking the foot of her crossed leg back and forth as she continued to take long drags on her cigarette, which never seemed to get any shorter no matter how much she smoked it.

"The whole situation is unsettling and should, at least, merit some looking into. She's not a bad person. She... just... always loved a good deal."

"Please Patrick. You're talking like you know-" Lucy paused, her half-statement sinking in. She made the slow head turn toward Robson, blue eyes shifting with constrained anger. "-her. Tell me Patrick... how do you know she's a good person? Hm? Her file says otherwise. You can't argue that. So... the real question is... why? Or more accurately... who?"

Robson leaned back in his chair. He had to look away. It wasn't a matter of his guilt for trying to hide the true reason he had the file in the first place that he couldn't meet Lucy in the eyes. It was that if he did, all he would see would be the churning torrent of her eyes, the faces of thousands of angry souls bubbling forth and screaming silently in the blue and being sucked back down into the inky deep of her pupils.

"Who gave you this file? It wasn't Investigations, right?"

"No." Robson whispered, still trying not to look at her.

"Then who?!"

Robson couldn't bluff any longer. It felt like she was on top of his chest, pressing an increasing amount of weight into him until he found it impossible to even breath. "Her father," he finally spat as he met Lucy's gaze. "It was her father."

"Her father?" Lucy whinced as she took off her glasses, resting them on the desk gently. She pinned her elbows on Robson's desk and cupped her chin in her hands. The anger had seemed to dull, but so had all the other emotions. She just stared at him, expressionless and void. Robson now found the exact opposite of a second ago was happening and he couldn't break his eyes off of her.

"Do I look like a charity to you?"

Lucy's words made Robson jump a little after the silence.

"Do I look like a charity to you?"

He found himself free to move again and unfortunately decided the best course of action would be to turn away once more.

"LOOK AT ME!!!"

The voice was not the sweet melody she had before. There was nothing sweet or melodious about the sound he just heard. To call it a voice was only in description that you could make out the words. But the sound was closer to a million screams and moans all happening at once, all in pain at once, all begging for mercy at once, all cascading up and up through inferno and stone. It echoed against the walls and Robson's very soul. He could feel his muscles tense in anticipation for unlimited pain. Everything slowed to a pace terribly familiar. Seconds were like small lifetimes strung into a chain of malice that he could feel being wrapped around his heart.

He looked at her.

"No."

It was the only thing he said. It was the only word he had left in his lungs that could be said.

"Then why, Patrick... did you think I'd let this sort of shit pass?!?!" Lucy yelled again, but this time in her once-was-sweet voice. She hurled the file into Robson's chest, knocking some of his freshly recovered wind right back out of him. "I don't do this job out of the kindness of my heart, even if I had any kindness in my heart! A damn sob story from some righteous little fuck who thinks it's wrong that his little baby girl is doing her fair time suffering is nowhere near enough of a reason to pull a fucking reversal and say it's all good! That bitch is getting what she deserves, even if that's having hot molten gold poured down her throat and vagina at the same time! Forever! It's a done deal, Patrick!"

Robson took the file and placed it back on his desk. Even if his body didn't want to comply with it, he tried his best at staying cool on the matter.

"But... her father does have a point that-"

"Don't even start with that bleeding heart crap. You work for me, remember? I don't need the Big Guy breathing down my neck about how souls in Hell are outnumbering those in Heaven! You're my liaison up here to keep the peace. If I have to shell out the odd soul every once in a while, fine. But not on the request of some mortal who thinks anyone gives two shits about his daughter!" the demon snarled as she leapt from her chair, pounding her fists on the desk, no longer concerned with her vain posing.

Lucy's rage was palpable and visible. Her porcelain skin had gone ruddy red. The veins popping out of her forehead and neck were certainly not sultry smooth as her complexion had been. She had even managed to carved several long strips out of the top of Robson's desk as she scratched her nails on the wood in frustration. Her cigarette was gone now, the ash wafting off into nothingness as it burned right down to her lips.

Robson closed his eyes, trying hard to find some way out of the situation. It wouldn't be enough to say he wouldn't do what Katie's father asked. If he became a detriment to her, she'd send him right back to the Pit for the rest of eternity. The good in him wanted to help Katie's father, but he now found himself in a very ugly situation.

There was no way he was going back.

"What about a trade?" Robson finally asked, feeling his stomach clench into a knot from guilt.

The devil's rage seemed to subside slightly. She sank back down into her seat. She quickly composed herself and fixed any messed clothing or hair she had ruffled during her yelling. "What kind of trade?" she inquired, still skeptical but interested nonetheless.

"Katie's soul... for her father's."

There was a deep silence in the room. Robson grimaced at his offer, knowing full well he was sending an innocent man to an eternity of pain and misery just for his own benefit. Lucy seemed catatonic. She just stared straight forward, expressionless, totally devoid of any form of life. Suddenly, her mouth contorted into a wicked concert of laughing.

"That's my boy!" she blurted, almost choking on her tongue as she chuckled. "Throwing that poor man right under the bus! Condemning him to Hell, just to have the irony of his daughter making it out so that things never really change at all! I- I can already see it!" She continued laughing until a sudden problem pranced its way into her mind. " I... oh... oh no wait... there's no way he'll agree to this. He has to agree to make this work!"

"I thought of that," Robson said in a sickly tone. "I'll... I'll tell him I'll break his daughter out. I'll convince him to come with me. I'll lead him down there. He believes I can get her out... but once down there he won't be able to do anything but-"

Robson was cut off my the immediate blockage of his mouth by the thick caressing embrace of Lucy's lips against his. His chair fell backwards and smashed against the floor with her on top of him. A whirlwind of emotions flooded through him and he realized that the default fixture of Heaven was gone and everything was just lust. He didn't want it. At least not in his mind. But his soul yearned for this. He felt the tension in her arms. He could smell her scent. The vague odor of sulfur would flit into his nostrils every time he inhaled. It wasn't until he felt something long and forked slide from her mouth and into his that his mind won the battle. He flung her back from him, trying in vain to squirm his way out from underneath the demon. She held fast and gently touched his nose with her finger.

"Oh baby... I knew you had it in you. I was worried there for a second, but this! Oh Patrick Robson! You will enjoy this. I promise you! I promise you will enjoy watching that man suffer! I can already see the look on his face! The utter shock! The dumb confusion! It will be-," she leaned into him and pressed her mouth against his ear. "-great."

Robson could only scream when her scalding hot tongue licked against the side of his face and the pungent smell of burning human flesh filled the room. He waved his arms around in excruciating pain until it all ended as suddenly as it had begun. He opened his eyes and realized that Lucy was gone. He naturally touched his face, but found it completely unharmed. Everything was back to the dulled Heaven sense of touch and he could only sigh in welcome relief.

The phone rang.

Robson jumped to his feet at the noise, not sure what to expect if he picked it up. His hand shook as he reached out and snatched the phone off the receiver.

"H-Hello?" he stammered.

"Yes. Mr. Robson? Look... I'm sorry for the way I acted in your office. I shouldn't have gotten angry. It wasn't right. I just... I just love my daughter, sir."

"No no. It's okay," Robson said to Katie's father. "I- uh -I actually have made a decision on your request."

"Really? Well... will you do it? Please tell me you'll save my daughter!"

Robson looked down at his desk, noting a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

"Mr. McGrady, let's make a deal."

[Kwan]

Entry Two

“You have to understand that, sir. She's not... she wasn't a bad woman. Katie was a good girl. She always helped her friends out. Not once was she's late to a commitment. When her grandmother was sick, she spent every day at the hospital. It was just, well, she liked her stuff, sir. She always loved a good deal. I don't see what's wrong with that; no one should be punished for wanting something extra if there's still good on the inside.”

Robson looked back down at the folder in front of him. A picture of Katie and testimonies from various friends stared up at him. “I don't quite see why you're here,” Robson said, not lifting his eyes to meet the watery stare of Katie's father. “What do you want me to do?”

“Please sir,” the man said, his voice going even higher. “Everyone says you're the most discreet person in Heaven. They all say you do this type of work.”

“And what type of work is that?” Robson asked. He looked at the man now. He could see the crinkled forehead, the bloodshot eyes and the bitten and chewed upon fingernails. No man should be forced to realised that their child had been rejected at the pearly gates.

“To bring her here. To break into Hell.”

Robson shot up, his hands pressed against the edge of the desk, as if to hang from the precipice of a sheer cliff. He risked a glance sideways and around the office. Nobody seemed to notice their conversation. They were busy processing other applicants with their heads down and wings over the back of padded, but worn, swivel chairs. He leaned forwards hissed carefully, "Keep your voice down."

The walls in the office were a bleak grey and dozens of desks dotted the small room, each boxed in by more dull walls. The walls were covered with charts: targets to meet, how many were in Heaven, how many complaints, and worst of all: employee of the month. It was never Robson. Just outside, through the frosted glass of the door, the never-ending queue of people could just be seen. All of them wanted to complain about a decision. It would have been easy to mistake this for hell; after-all, wasn't heaven supposed to be white and glorious? Even the computers spent most of their time as glorified paperweights.

"If they heard you …" he shook his head. "I suggest you leave. This matter is closed."

"Please, I know you can do it," the man harried again, standing to leave, bringing him to eye level with Robson. There were tears welling now and now his bottom lip wobbled like a diving-board, "I can't just leave her there."

Robson had seen the look before; all those who came to him were broken, sobbing, exhausted, and at their wits-end. He glanced at the documents again, taking his seat, careful not to knock the wings from their perch. It wasn't his decision and he had no right to undo it … but he had to admit that the scales were tipped in her favour. He tapped his fingers against the desk. Maybe, somewhere up the chain of command, somebody had got it wrong or misplaced a note. He knew it had happened before. The burn-out was high. Paperwork went awry frequently and they were somewhat understaffed. "I don't do that any more," his brow was creased with regret as he refused to meet the man's eyes.

"I thought," the tears tumbled like Niagara Falls, "I thought you were different. I thought you'd help her. Help me. But I-I was wrong …" his voice grew so thin it was barely detectable any more as his face flushed. His flooded eyes were full of anger but he could not act upon it. His whole body rocked with emotion as he broke down and shuffled away, head hung so low it could have been between his legs.

Robson watched him go with the familiar sinking feeling reaping across his gut. All the time he kept his fingers busy, tapping. The feeling, he knew from previous experiences, would not go away. Even now he could feel it gnawing.

Quickly he snatched up a pen and scribbled a note, then he was out of his chair and heading towards the door. Nobody was interested or paying any attention to his movements but Robson still tried to walk calmly, like he was just going to the toilet or going make a cup of tea. He found the applicant just before he could leave the building.

"Mr Richard. Jamie?" he skipped over, light on his feet despite the sick feeling festering in his gut, and handed the note over casually. "You left this."

Before Jamie could respond Robson had turned on his heel and marched away, only slowing to nod at the receptionist on the desk. She nodded back. "Afternoon," she smiled, and then he was back through the double doors and headed back to his desk.

Jamie stuffed the note in his pocket and continued to trudge on. The tears were still too fresh.

~~~

At five-thirty sharp the whistle blew. Computers that were still working were shut down. It was the end of a long day for Robson and by now he was smarting from a casual fly-by headache. (They were common in this line of work.) It started around the time Jamie Richard's arrived and grew from there. The rest was the usual: co-workers bullshit, missing paperwork, people sobbing, etc. It was a hard job, one that he struggled to do according to the rules, but occasionally something would pop-up, just like Jamie Richard had, and a rule could be broken or at least bent. It was being able to do something, albeit in secrecy, that he could feel good about.

He slipped his wings back on, like a businessman donning his jacket, and pushed the chair under his messy desk. The feathers were ruffled; his wing-press had broken that morning. Katie's case was still on the desk along with various notes. He swept everything up into a brief-case and tossed a quick goodnight to his co-workers. They all rumbled back. Aliseon was talking about what dinner would be while Duidain complained about having the same-old cold meat and potatoes. It was always the same-old. Day in and day out, it didn't really matter which day, they all bleed into another.

Before long he was out of the building and on his way home … except tonight he wouldn't go straight home. He had to do something first.

Jamie Richard was waiting beneath the bus-stop. Rain had started to fall in Heaven, creating large puddles and a miserable Robson. It wasn't all fluffy peach clouds, harps, and various other disbeliefs up here. Heaven needed people to run it, to cook, to clean, and to do the filing, and they all needed to be live somewhere. Only those who had earned the right got the good, fluffy clouds and relaxation. Angels never got that luxury. It was hard running such a big organisation and somebody, usually the lower angels, had to take the brunt. Instead they were housed in large estate blocks made of a bland concrete and the same-old magnolia paint.

He was greeted with "Why?"

Jamie was sheltered under the bus-stop but still looked damp, especially around the puffy eyes. He had his hands in his lap, which fidgeted with the broken nails, picking parts off with the occasional clicking sound. Each bit of nail he yanked off would get tossed out and for the rain to wash it away. He really didn't have much. Even the clothes he walked in were tattered around the edges and faded by the sun.

"Because pushing pens and filing paper gets old," came the short reply as Robson ducked into the shelter and wrung out some of the rain from his feathers and jacket. "I shouldn't even be here."

"Then why did you come? You said you'd get me there, on the note, but just me." Credit where it was due, he was persistent.

"Because … because you're right. Katie doesn't belong there," he snapped, unwilling to play any more games or draw the whole thing out any further than in needed to be. "I can get you there but I can't help beyond that. Last time I did this there was hell to pay at work. I lost out on a whole month's wage – and faced a disciplinary! I was lucky to keep my job." The rumble of the rain on the plastic covering above was loud and constant. He shivered just once from the wet and the cloud, pausing long enough to wipe an errant drip from his nose.

Frustrated and scared Jamie stuffed his hands into what remained of his jeans pockets. Some of his stubby fingers could be seen through a hole on one leg. "I can't do it. I'm just an old man."

"An old man with enough guts to come and complain. I said I'd help and that's that. For an Angel to enter Hell … it's not possible – not without paying the highest price." The last few droplets of rain were wiped away from the brief-case with a brush of Robson's arm. His shoulders sank; it really had been a long day and this part was not easy.

"You didn't say impossible!" Jamie's frustration and anger flared again. The Angels had not helped and were never going to. A door to Hell? It was nothing but a one way ticket and it was unacceptable, in his eyes. The Angels were supposed to help those in need, weren't they? Whereas this one had only complained and whined. He was a grump of an Angel and poor excuse for one at that. "You care more about your job, the money, the price, the paperwork …" he growled. "There's a girl in Hell who shouldn't be there. God knows what they are doing to her! And you think of your job?!"

"Shut up. Don't use the G-word. I don't need him in on this," Robson rubbed his temples, only putting up half a defence because a full argument would take up too much time and energy. "Besides, maybe I do care more about my life. I don't get much and what I do have I have to cling on to. I hear complaints everyday but I can't fix them all. At least I get to do something about the few that do stand out." He slumped on the thin bench to one side. "Be glad I didn't go home," he added with some finality.

The rain took over the conversation. It was coming down in droves like waves crashing against a beach. The sky was black and heavy with it. Ripples lashed out as puddles grew larger quickly. A bus passed, kicking up another puddle as it drove by. The water lashed out against the pavement like a mini-tsunami,pushing leaves and sticks in its path. Somehow it always seemed to be raining here; it was just a matter of how much and how heavy.

Jamie broke the silence, awkwardly, now that the anger had subsided. "No point sitting here like drowned rats. So, how do we do it?"

"There is no we but I appreciate your eagerness," the brief-case was popped open by two soggy thumbs and Katie's case was pulled out. The corners had bent a little from the damp that had somehow managed to crawl inside the brief-case. Robson shook his head, "These things used to be waterproof," he mumbled, not that Jamie would care. "You'll be on your own in Hell. Don't believe everything you see either. I'll try and get you as close to Katie as possible but I can't guarantee what state she'll be in." He placed the brief-case on the floor of the bus-shelter and produced a letter-opener from one of his pockets. "It's not a one way ticket but you need to get back as quickly as possible," he rushed now, pushing the nearly blunt blade through the pad of his thumb. A blob of blood welled on the surface which was quickly pushed into a symbol on the plastic wall of the bus-shelter. It was a series of circles and curves, with dots in between, and quickly scribbled. "Clear?"

Jamie nodded. His mucky fingers had gone back to working together with nervousness and his eyes were everywhere but on the symbol. Even his hurried breathing, almost wheezing, could be heard over the constant grumble of rain against the shelter. "Are you sure you won't come?" he was shaking.

"I can't. The price to pay. I can't." Robson finished the symbol on the wall, dabbling the final part of the symbol on Katie's document. From within the centre on the blood symbol, that had been drawn on the wall, a dull thud resounded. Slowly it began to glow and steadily filled in where Robson had drawn the pattern with a sickly red. Soon the whole shelter was glowing. The smell, which had once been musty and almost metallic from the rain, now fused to become sweeter and heavier. It was a cloying smell that clung to the back of your mouth and gullet like badly swallowed peanut-butter.

"But … how will I know where she is? How will I get us out?" Jamie was searching for a way out. They all did. The fear of the unknown. The idea of entering Hell willingly. It was a fool's game.

"This was your choice, Mr Richards," the professionalism rose automatically.

The portal now completed it's transformation with another dull thud that sent a pulse around the pair now standing together. The winds on the other side of the portal rushed forwards to whip at Robson's coat and wings and caused the holes in Jamie's trousers to flap open like fish gulping in open air.

The portal was like looking through a picture-frame but everything there was the opposite of here. It was like a child's nightmare gone wrong. In the distance animals moved on dozens of legs, things closer growled with unnatural tones that pushed at the contents of the bowels, and amongst it all were people trapped in their own individual moment. Their own specially catered for crazy. They were being chased, flayed, eaten; it was almost too much to look upon. There was none of the order or bureaucracy that ruled Heaven.

"It's not like you actually like it here!" Jamie turned away from the image clutching at his stomach with revolt.

"Sorry. I've already done too much," Robson had to yell back over the screams that were leaking into Heaven. The portal would only stay open for so long.

"Or not enough."

With those last words Jamie grabbed Robson by the arms and wings, feathers sticking out at all angles between his fingers, and lunged at the portal. It was beginning to close, not that he could have known it would only stay open for a limited time, but he managed to fling himself and the Angel through it just in time. Both pairs of feet disappeared mere seconds before the now familiar thud resonated again and the symbol faded.

The unnatural light filtered out, leaving the dark night to flood in again. The bus-shelter was empty save for the brief-case and the casual dripping of the rain.

[Kwan]

Entry One Reviews

I loved the way you painted Heaven and the relationship between the two main characters. The ending was also well done.

***

I enjoyed the story and I liked that you made Robson into an under-the-thumb worker to a delicious devil. (Lucy was fun and the panic Robson felt was pretty heavy.) There were a couple of instances of repetition which I felt detracted a little. The piece also had a couple of mistakes that should be quite easy to pick up on: things like missing commas and capital letter after a full stop or at the beginning of a new conversation. I did feel that you were overly crude – vagina? Not needed. Implied danger and hurt is sometimes (a lot of the time) better than just stating what is happening. The human imagination will often be a lot better at filling in awful punishment than you could ever describe.

***

First of all, I think I need to just run through a few things. They're small things but you need to address them for a cleaner piece. When you're writing dialogue that is coupled with a 'I said' and so on, you don't end with a full stop, you end with a comma.

Not: “Hello, Lucy.” he muttered... but rather, “Hello, Lucy,” he muttered.

Secondly, don't use ** to denote emphasis or even all capitals. Show the emphasis through your writing. At the very least stick to 'similar' if you feel you can't show the emphasis. And on a similar note, multiple exclamation points? No. It looks bad. Also, generally speaking, you shouldn't have “!?”. Stick to one. Use your writing to emphasising the emotion behind the question. Don't be lazy.

Right. Onto the story. I was a bit disappointed. You have a nice setting and plot to work with and you just didn't run with it. I liked the way you described the sensation of Heaven, but the description of it was lacklustre. The characters felt a bit inconsistent too. First, Robson was growling at the man to leave and then he really wanted to help but couldn't. Then somehow sending the father to Hell was in Robson's best interests for reasons I don't understand. Lucy just didn't feel like a demon, just a poorly written woman.

I did like the twist, though, of possibly tricking the father to be the trade. But I still don't know why Robson is suggesting it. There's a base for a good story here, but it needs a whole lot of reworking.

***

A lot of this was quite clever. The way the plot hinged on secondary character interactions and all of that. I like the way you constructed the story. But there are flaws. The pacing is really strange. Lots of large chunks of explanation and then short pieces of dialogue, which makes them feel less realistic and very choppy. The personalities all seemed to only have a single dynamic to them, not really anything in the way of textured or complex characters. The final plot... 'twist'? I don't know about it. It's a good thought, it's not bad, but it probably should have remained a good thought and passed on for something a little more interesting. There's no really interesting place to take that one. The best you probably could have done is ended with his daughter in heaven, teary-eyed and happy (or, darker, wishing her father hadn't done it). But ending it like you did... I don't know that it worked. It comes too close to trying to conclude things to just be one of those floating excerpt stories, but not so close as to actually tie things up in a satisfactory way. Smart pieces made a faulted whole.

Entry Two Reviews

There was a bit of trouble with tense here. Other than that, you did well with the story but went a rather expected route. There was nothing about this that really grabbed me.

***

This story is incomplete. This was the start to a story. There was no sense of it being finished.

From what has been done, you wrote an okay piece. I liked and disliked your version of Heaven. I felt it was too normal to properly be Heaven. But I liked your idea that there's sort of a tiered-system for Heaven. If the lower tiered was still a little bit miserable but also at least a bit foreign, then it would have been better.

The perspective was a bit off. It jumped suddenly from being from Robson's perspective to being an omniscient perspective that covered Jamie Richard (…) as well. It was off-putting that sudden shift.

Overall, I felt the story was just lacking that scope. The volume was turned down. Some things aren't explained that probably should be (Robson used to do it but now he can't because the price is too high? Either explain the price or explain the shift in thinking). But it worked okay. And I liked the last paragraph, even if it didn't really feel like a proper ending.

An okay start.

***

...god, is that it?

Man. I was starting to kind of like that, and bam. Over. Boom. Done. See ya'.

Fairly well written, fairly well paced, lots of little bits of smart writing. A good portrayal of heaven that seemed to carry on the spirit of the beginning. But it felt rushed from fairly early on. I wanted to know more about the characters. More about the ritual. More about the possible punishments. It was being rushed against the clock and then it just smashed the clock the pieces and... stopped telling the story when it, honestly, wasn't over yet.

There were also a few small errors throughout, which managed to stick out in the terseness of it all. As a piece of writing, I enjoyed this more than its competition. But it left me feeling less satisfied overall. It was missing so much.

Sigh. Tough call.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

I was entry 2. Was aiming for a Supernatural feel.