"You were a hero."
"It's not every day you meet a real champ."
"When they join you here, they're going to be so proud."
"And you. How did you die?" the golden winged warden asked.
Tori frowned. "I… uh… I don’t know?"
"It's okay," the warden assured. "It'll come to you eventually. Guys, it's time for your initiation to the afterlife!"
Tori took a deep breath and along with the three other newly deceased, followed the warden down the hall to the theatre room. Inside, there was a giant projector screen with the words "Welcome to DEATH!" projected across it.
"Alright, guys, time to watch your death tapes. I find it's the best way to get to know your new friends," the warden smiled. "Now, the reason you were all assigned together was that your circumstances were similar. Now, Stevens, you're up!"
Stevens was a crack jumbo jet pilot who crash-landed his 747. According to the warden, everyone else survived because of him.
Nikki broke the ladies record for bench press just before the equipment failed and crushed her to death. Talk about being a real champ.
Felix was a Marine who saved ten hostages in Libya before the terrorists mowed him down with machine gun fire.
And Tori, you ask? Well, she didn't even remember how she died. Mind you, she remembered signing a record label with Sony Pictures at twelve, but that didn't feel so heroic.
"It's Pastoral's turn!" the warden cheered.
"Please call me Tori," Tori said. The warden ignored her.
A bar filled the screen. A woman in a bright red dress and burgundy lipstick smiled at Tori. "I love your voice, sweetheart," she said.
"Oh, thank you," she said. "It's a beautiful piano, too."
"Let me buy you a drink," the woman offered. "One Long Island Iced Tea for the next Adele!"
"Wait, stop. I'm not–" Tori protested, pulling out her wallet.
"Sweetie, that's not how the world works," the woman chuckled, pushing away Tori's license. "If no one asks, don't tell."
The bar tender slid the tall glass down the bar and Tori picked it up. Abruptly, the playback ended.
"Oh, it seems Pastoral's isn't loading," the warden frowned.
"Excuse me, it's Tori, please," Tori insisted. "Um, and why isn't it working?"
"Well, this system can only replay events you remember, and it appears you don't remember how you died."
"But I want to know!" Tori said.
"Let go of it, girl," Nikki said, doing wall pushups. "We get it. You were boring."
"Hey–" Tori protested.
"Alright, step two, kiddies," the warden shouted. "Geography!"
The warden led them out of the theater and into a classroom with one table, four chairs, and a SMART Board. It showed seven layers, with a dot on the fourth-to-the-top layer reading "You Are Here."
"This top layer, layer one, is Earth. If you're alive, you'll be there. I don't think any of us are suffering that problem," the warden joked. "And here, layer seven, is what most consider 'Hell.'"
"Then what's here?" Stevens asked.
"We're in Upper Purgatory. Both level four and five are considered purgatory and are almost identical," the warden said. "Level three is Heaven, and level six is pre-Hell. Trust me, that's a bad place to fall into."
"Fall?" Tori asked.
"Ah, yes. All levels, except for the first, connected-floating plates. There are many gaps in each plate where one can fall through to a lower level," the warden explained. "And that brings us to the next step – wings."
"Wings?" everyone spontaneously cut in.
"Ah, yes. All deceased get wings," the warden said, showing off her golden ones. "They're like angels' wings except the angels are better. For one, they aren't dead humans."
"Are you a dead human?" Felix asked.
"Absolutely. Been dead since 1845," the warden cheered. "Go team ghost!" No one laughed.
"So depending on how worthy you are, you get different powered wings. They help you escape the pull of the level 7, you know," the warden winked. "Wings will show up around a day or so. Before that, don't leave the house."
"The house?" Tori asked.
"Well, you have to live somewhere," the warden said. "Now, time to enjoy death! Shoo!"
Suddenly, the four of them appeared in a living room of a large house. Stevens sighed. "What the–"
ns 15.158.61.51da2
