Heaven

The spaceship jarred as it landed. The computer had brought me down safely from orbit, but I was half dead, choking for breath, mind spasming from lack of oxygen. The recycler had broken down. Even my space suit was nearly bled dry of air. Somehow, I made it to the airlock. I didn’t know this planet. Was the atmosphere breathable? I had no choice but to find out. The outer hatch opened under my desperate palm. I staggered through, fell to hands and knees, slapped my helmet release.

A breath shuddered into my chest. Warm. Languid. It fed me. My lungs filled; my body drank the air like nectar. I coughed myself back to life, then forced myself to my feet. The view froze me. A low mist coiled around my legs, as if I stood on a cloud. But up through the fog thrust metal trees, of copper, black iron, gleaming platinum. Their leaves chimed in a zephyr breeze. Above me, the sky was clear and golden, like melted butter.

And in that sky drifted a silver city. I heard trumpets belling, and rising over the city’s spires swept a flock of beings. They were white, blindingly white, with feathered wings.

For an instant I wondered if I had died, or if I lay dreaming with a brain damaged from oxygen loss. But I’d always understood the difference between fantasy and reality, and the reality was that the creatures who dove toward me were angels. They began to sing. My heart swelled with the beauty. I lifted my own voice to join theirs.

The angels swirled before me in diaphanous glory, with luminous eyes honed and piercing. Their wings beat the mist. Their voices lifted higher and higher. For a moment I knew the harmonics of heaven. Then my voice faltered; I couldn’t match theirs. No human throat could capture this music. No human body could contain it. My heart hammered and hammered. Again my breath labored. The angels swarmed closer.

I wondered why they pointed at me as they sang? Why were their sweet lips drawn back over sharp, sharp teeth? Only when my ears and nose and eyes begin to bleed did I understand. This song was no song at all. In a rage of laughter, the angels of God tore me apart.

∼ Charles Gramlich