Hallowed Halls
Travis Love
	Welcome to the world of the unseen.  Come now,
don't be shy.  Step through the doorway.  The clouds
are perfectly solid ground.  People aren't allowed in
here, you know.  Not normally, anyway.  Sure, the
bureaucrats up in Heaven say it's not legal, but I've
never been one for legalities.  It's perfectly safe to
be here, trust me.  As long as they don't catch you,
you'll be safe.  Okay, it's a bit immoral, but it
isn't Heaven.  Well?  Are you coming or not?  I'm
offering you a glimpse of the hereafter.  Yes, I
thought that's what you'd say
	Follow me every step of the way, and you'll
live to tell about it.  Just don't trip any alarms or
talk to any security personnel.  Are we clear?  Good. 
This way.  We'll make a couple brief stops before
being on our way to the main attraction.  First, the
Quotidiary.
	The Quotidiary is a white marble building of
incredible proportions.  It's larger on the inside
than on the outside.  Saying that the outside is
gargantuan leaves no proper term to describe the
inside.  Some people call it Purgatory, but it's just
one large hall.  Dead souls awaiting judgment are fed
and watered here.  The names are called, and those
identified are picked up by heavyset men in black
suits, and likely never seen again.  It's not the food
that's so bad, just the waiting.  Since the hereafter
is eternal, some people are here from the first
century or so, awaiting judgment for their deeds.  The
longer you're alive on Earth, the longer you wait in
the Quotidiary.  Let's keep going, shall we?
	On the left, you can see the Courthall.  Here,
various powers and gods assess the deeds of a life,
before being judged.  The soul comes here with
aforementioned black suits to be given the verdict,
and the reasoning behind it, before being sent to
experience the rest of their afterlife.  The Courthall
is nothing more than a small log cabin, but again, the
proportions inside are bigger than the outside.
	Rising to the right, peeping above the various
buildings is the structure known as the Stairway to
Heaven.  It doesn't look like much, just a rickety old
wooden escalator, with slats your feet could easily
get stuck in.  Just next to it is a rather nasty
looking pit, with flames shooting out every few
seconds, accompanied by an occasional blood-curdling
shriek.  I don't have to tell you where it leads, do
I?  You can see the smoke just as well as I can.
	Ahead of us is the White Forest, a constantly
shifting playground of the gods.  It's a bit
dangerous, but that's okay.  You live a little, you
die a little, and it's all the same, right?  The gods
are all busy at the moment, trying to place Bill
Gates, so it shouldn't be too dangerous.  The
multicolored trees distort the sky.  Hammered in the
ground is a small sign, bearing a five-word legend: 
Enter At Your Own Risk.
	Let's run through a small path in the trees,
walking quietly to avoid detection.  The trees break
into desert, the desert into a clean blue ocean. 
Don't drink the water, just walk through it. Even I
don't know what would happen if you drank this stuff. 
The water feels like molasses in the middle of a
winter from the Arctic Circle.  On an island in the
middle of the water is a house.  Welcome to the most
hallowed halls of all.
	The interior is lavishly furnished with
leather and black marble.  Everything is in shades of
white, black, and gray.  It's a black and white movie,
with you as the only color.  Opening one door, you see
a small bathroom.  Another leads to a small, though
well-planned kitchen.  You walk forward, into a hall
of granite.  No furniture here, just rows upon rows of
shelving.  On each shelf, a small hourglass, the sand
running through slowly.  You can almost feel the
tension in the air.
	Breathtaking, isn't it?  I wouldn't lean
there, if I were you...Well, you've done it now.  You
weren't expecting the wall to turn inward, were you? 
This passage leads to another granite hallway, without
shelving.  Instead, there are endless rows of finely
carved pedestals, each accompanied by a cavern in the
wall.  More hourglasses surmount the pedestals, behind
them a granite statue.  One pedestal bears the name of
Thor, next to an empty hourglass.  Another
says "Odin."  Another, still running, bears the name
Merlin.  The rows continue, all gods or goddesses of
one form or another, figures of legend.  Some are
dead, while some are filled to the brim with sand. 
You walk over to one oddly shaped pedestal.  There is
no statue in the cavern.  The name on the pedestal
is blank.  The hourglass, if you can still call it
that, looks like something made by a glassblower with
a bad case of the hiccups.  We're nearing the end now,
just be patient.  The rows break for a moment, then
return.  The hourglasses are smaller now, but so full
of sand that they aren't actually running.  One
pedestal bears the name "Love," another "Luck."
Others include "Fate," "Plague," "Alcohol," and
lastly, "Death."  You come at last to a small wooden
door.
	This, my friend, is the back door to reality.
I hear the sound of a cowl slipping onto a nail, the
bang of a scythe as it lodges in its stand.  I think
the house's tenant has returned.  I should use the
back door, if I were you.  Quickly.  I think I might
just come with you.