Bright light flooded Renton's vision. Sterile air filled his lungs. His girlfriend's futile attempt at stifling her tears drowned out what little noise came through his hospital room. Renton was dying. Stage 4. He would have graduated college in three months alongside his girlfriend, Molly, but his latest prognosis showed that it'd take a miracle for him to see next week. And miracles were in short supply these days.
"Is there anything I can get you?" she sputtered out between sniffles. Renton hated seeing her like this. She was the strong one in their relationship, physically and emotionally. One time as kids, some bully harassed Renton over his shaved head, and Molly bloodied the jerk so bad he spent more time in the hospital than she spent suspended.
"An orange soda sounds nice," he mumbled. His voice was weak, barely audible to the woman seated beside him. Her spiky, ash-blonde hair was more ruffled than usual, and her t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled. Recently, she lacked the drive to maintain a well-kempt appearance.
"I'll go get you one. Don't go anywhere; I won't be long," she joked, though her delivery was hampered by choking on tears. The moment she left the room, it felt as if time had stopped. The hospital's ambient sounds faded from earshot until all was silent. Renton panicked. He was afraid his hearing had gone out, that he was losing his senses one by one. He wasn't ready to die yet, not by himself, not without Molly by his side.
"Hey there, hero! How's it hanging?" a sprightly voice called out from the doorway. Relief washed over Renton as he heard someone enter the room. He wasn't dying just yet.
"Hello?" he responded dryly. It was a young woman. Short and pretty. She looked like some sort of pop star. Her hair was light pink to its roots as if it were naturally that color. A black, Evanescence t-shirt and plaid blue shirt accentuated her shapely figure. Her knee-high leather boots clacked loudly on the tile floor. "Who are you?" Though she looked to be his age, Renton didn't recognize her from school or elsewhere. He thought she might be some influencer looking to cash in on his misfortune.
"You'll find out when it's time. For now, just take it easy." She sidled up to his bed and leaned in to hug him. It was extremely awkward for the inebriated man. Being grabbed in his condition was uncomfortable enough, and the stranger's hefty bosom pressing into him only made it worse. She rested her chin against his shoulder; her hair smelled flowery, like gardenias. "I'm here ahead of schedule," she whispered into his ear. "If there's anything left you need to do, now's the time to get it done."
"What?" Renton asked. Without explaining herself, the mysterious woman got up and skipped to the door.
"See ya soon, Ren!" The moment she disappeared into the hallway, the hospital came back to life, the beeps of medical equipment and the staff's footsteps echoing through the floor. Renton was left strapped to his IVs, alone and bewildered. A minute later, Molly returned, holding a white aluminum can.
"Sorry, all they had is diet," she said before pausing to look at her partner. "Is everything alright? You look troubled." Even through his ghastly face, she could tell something was bothering him.
"It's nothing," he muttered, grabbing the can from her. "I'm trying to watch my weight anyway. All that sugar would dig me an early grave.” They both tried to laugh, but breathing hurt like hell for Renton, and the mere mention of a grave just elicited more tears from Molly’s ducts. The two stared into the other’s eyes, afraid of what was to come. Renton didn’t fear death itself; he had long come to terms with his condition, and even welcomed oblivion if it meant an end to his suffering. However, the thought of being alone for eternity, of being separated from Molly, mortified him. Likewise, Molly dreaded the lonely life that awaited her. Renton was the love of her life, her best friend since childhood, and the thought of him just not being there was incomprehensible. Renton dwelled on the pink-haired girl’s words.
“Molly, do you want to get married?” he asked, dead serious. The tears froze for a moment, her eyes wide open. “I don’t have a ring or anything, and I can’t promise a relaxing honeymoon, but…” Molly lunged onto him, her arms wrapped around his emaciated shoulders. She pressed her face into his, her warm breath rushing down his neck. If her embrace hurt at all, Renton didn’t feel it.
“Why didn’t you ask me sooner, you idiot!?” she bawled.
“I didn’t want to be a burden, even more of one. I thought it wasn’t worth troubling you, considering…” Molly pulled back and looked him dead in the eye.
“You have never been a burden, and you never will be. I want to marry you so bad it hurts.” Molly got up and pulled out her phone. For the first time in a long while, Renton saw her smile. “My uncle’s a notary. I’ll call him, so we can get married tonight. I’ll let our parents know too. Oh, they can pick up a cake at the corner store, and we can have a small celebration here.” She looked so giddy planning their spontaneous wedding that Renton felt he could live another hundred years off her happiness alone.
…
After escaping a pitch-black tunnel, Renton awoke to the sun’s heavenly rays beaming down on him. He felt warm, warmer than he had in weeks, but it was a comfortable heat, like the first day in spring when one could stop wearing a coat outside. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the bright light consuming him. He could feel his bed beneath him, though it was far too soft to be the hospital bed. It was warm too, but not like the air around him; it was as if it exuded its own heat, enveloping him in a welcoming warmth. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep, his newly wedded wife resting her head on his chest as the two “consummated” their marriage.
“Wakey-wakey,” a delicate voice cooed. “Did you sleep well?” Renton rubbed his eyes, color fading into view as his eyes finally adjusted. Directly in front of him was a wall of white fabric draped down all the way to the floor before him. His gaze wandered up the fabric, past two enormous mounds, and up towards the massive face of a pink-haired woman. “You looked so cute I didn’t want to wake you.”
Renton started back in shock. He was sitting on the lap of a giant woman. She was wearing a white slit dress with a plunging neckline accented in resplendent gold. Renton took her for a goddess, the spanning dove wings protruding from her back completing the look. The woman giggled as the man absorbed her splendor.
“There’s no need to gape like that. You haven’t even seen yourself yet.” The ginormous woman brought down her hand, holding her fingers vertically before Renton. Her middle fingernail was as tall as he was. The keratin surface glistened and transmogrified into a mirror-like, reflective sheen, giving Renton a clear image of himself. The first thing he noticed was the long, wavy brown hair flowing from his scalp. His body, what wasn’t covered by a white long-sleeve and matching slacks, was flush with the tint of life. There were muscles on his bones and his skin was no longer pallid. The silken clothes adorning him were beyond velvety, softer than the downs of a mother goose. Hovering half a foot above his head was a brilliant ring of golden light.
Renton relaxed as he pieced together what happened to him, his bare feet scrunching a miniscule portion of the giant woman’s thigh. “I’m sure I’m dead. That much is obvious,” he mumbled to himself, surprised at how vigorous his voice sounded. “So, am I in heaven, or is this a dream induced by my dying brain as it clings to the final musings of my consciousness.”
“The former,” the angel responded, perplexed by the latter.
“Interesting.” Renton paced around the thigh, pondering the implications. “I’m sorry if this is rude to ask, but could you tell me which religion got it right?”
“Technically, none of them,” she responded. “Though each one was correct about something or another.” Renton brought his hand to his chin as he pondered every existential question that ever crossed his mind. “And before you ask me every existential question that’s ever crossed your mind, how’s about I give you the rundown.” Looking up at the woman’s colossal face, Renton finally realized she was the girl that visited him the day he died. “I’m Petra, your guardian angel. And this is Heaven.”
Petra was sitting on a grassy meadow beneath a blossoming sycamore tree. Surrounding her was a sea of clouds that stretched far beyond the endless horizon. The skies radiated azure with rippling waves billowing across it as if the ocean hung upside down. “You are a soul, given a form that best represents your idyllic self. And now that you’re free from your mortal coil, you can enjoy the land of milk and honey to its fullest, for all eternity!” She threw her arms into the air, sending her buxom bosom into a bouncing frenzy. Renton tried not to stare, but from his perspective, it was impossible to look at her face without the twin peaks poking into view. “It’s okay to gawk,” she said, looking back down at him. His face burned bright red. “I’m your guardian angel after all.”
“No, it’s not!” he asserted. “I have a girlfrie- er, wife! And leering at an angel must be a sin.”
“Silly, you can’t sin in Heaven,” she chuckled. “Marriages are ‘until death do you part,’ remember? Though, I respect your loyalty.” Renton wasn’t convinced, his eyes darting to avoid the excessive amount of skin the angel’s dress revealed. “And really, you mortals are way more prude than you need to be. Half of your ‘sins’ don’t even exist. As long as your kind and respectful to others, you get to come straight to Heaven and skip past the soul wash.”
“Soul wash? Is that like Hell?”
“Sorta. It’s not called that, though. We refer to it as the Downstairs. There we wash evil people’s souls of impurities until they’re good enough to enjoy Heaven,” she said with a smile, though Renton’s puzzled expression conveyed to her that he had more questions. “Here, let me show you.”
The tiny man was blinded by a flash of light. Once he recovered, he found himself standing in Petra’s expansive palm, looking out over a monotone grey office space. The place was cordoned off by cubicle walls, though the spaces between were surprisingly expansive. Everything, the walls, desks, computers, keyboards, and every other odd and end was the exact same shade of grey. Even the hardwood flooring, though one would be hard pressed to see that under the thick, crimson layer of blood. Before Renton and Petra stood an angel with bright blue hair, decked out in black leather. She was the spitting image of a dominatrix with a tight leather corset, matching leather G-string, and thigh-high stiletto boots, the bottom of which were stained red. Her back was turned to them, giving them a full display of her obsidian dove wings and ample posterior. Upon further inspection, Renton noticed something squirming in between her oppressive glutes.
“Repent maggots!” the angel sneered. “Cast off the weight of your misdeeds as you succumb to the weight of my foot.” She stomped her boot down, sending a wailing chorus crawling up her leg. Beneath her leather-clad sole were at least a dozen tiny people, each as small as Renton, being pulverized under the angel’s merciless pressure. Poking out of her G-string were a dozen flailing limbs, each grasping at the paltry fresh air made available to them. “Soak in the blood of your cold-hearted brethren and reflect on the evils you wrought on the world!”
“We wash out the soul’s impurities through torture,” Petra explained way too calmly. “It never lasts an eternity like you mortals worry over, but the sessions can last upwards of a million years for some people.”
“Does the berating help with the cleansing?” Renton asked.
“No, not directly. That’s for the angels, helps them get into it.” Petra looked up and waved to the dominatrix. “Hey, Cindy!” The blue-haired angel turned, her scowl giving way to a wide grin.
“Petra, darling, long time no see!” Cindy rushed over and gave Petra a kiss on the cheek, paying no mind to the tinies she crushed underneath her gait. “What brings you down here?”
“Giving a newbie a tour of the place. He wanted to see how the Downstairs worked.” Cindy bent over, her massive face eclipsing all else from Renton’s view.
“Aww, what a cute lil’ fella,” she cooed, pinching the tiny’s cheek, really his entire face, between her overwhelming fingers. “You’re going to love it upstairs. Petra’s such a great hostess.”
“Oh, you flatter me!” Petra blushed. “I’m not even half as good as you were.”
“Don’t be so modest. Sometimes I miss being a guardian…” Cindy noticed a speck of a man pulling himself across the blood-soaked floor, making a desperate attempt to flee while his torturer was distracted. Cindy casually lowered her boot on top of him and twisted, glancing away from her friend for barely a second. “…but my current role is just so invigorating. You should really try it sometime.”
“Thanks, but I’m more of the gentle caretaker type,” she remarked, patting the side of her head while her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth. “Anyway, I better get back to showing this guy around. See you at Lillian’s party?”
“Absolutely! Can’t wait!” Cindy gave Petra a kiss farewell before bending over and doing the same for Renton. It was just a quick peck, but her ginormous lips struck him with enough force to knock him over. It was like crashing face first into a pair of airbags, though oddly pleasant all the same. The dominatrix turned and walked back towards the desk where more tortured souls waited, scratching those in her G-string deeper into the abyss.
With a radiant flash, Petra and Renton returned to the sycamore tree. “What’d she mean by ‘hostess’?” Renton asked.
“Normally, you’d have a private suite on the promenade, and I’d be there to ensure all your wants and needs are met. Like a giant, angelic butler!” Petra sat back down, holding Renton up to her chest. The immensity of her infinite cleavage intimidated the little guy, but he managed to stay focused on her explanation in spite of the tremendous odds against him. “However, you qualify for a special opportunity.” Renton cocked an eyebrow, feeling like he was about to be roped into buying a car. “The Goddess above loves her creations with all her heart, but sometimes a kind soul is taken from the material world at a tragically young age. As regrettable as it is, we can’t go and change fate willy-nilly, but we can offer an alternative.” Petra waved her arm and a slideshow appeared projected behind her. The projection showed various slides of people laughing and frolicking with miniature people in their hands. “The Heaven’s Reborn Initiative!”
Renton squinted at the pictures with his mouth ajar and his head cocked. “Huh?”
“Since you died before you could really live your life, we’re giving you a second shot at it. Though, we can’t just bring you back as you were since that would defy fate and all that. So, we let you return as a sprite.” A diagram popped up on the slideshow to accentuate her presentation, depicting a faithful illustration of Renton’s current form next to the towering mass that was Petra. “You see, the human soul is actually really small, which is mighty convenient because it’d be a real pain fitting a hundred trillion of you guys up here otherwise. But it also means we can send you guys back to the mortal realm as sprites and not have to worry about you disturbing the natural order.” The next slide showed an animation of Ren’s soul being stuffed into an envelope and mailed to Earth. “You’ll get to live a second life on Earth, albeit at only a centimeter tall, but there’s still plenty of opportunities available to you at that size.” A few stock photos popped up: a sprite swimming in a glass of water, one watching a movie while chomping on a popcorn kernel as tall as him, and another sleeping on a pillow the size of a football field. “And once your second life reaches its conclusion, you’ll return here and enjoy the bounty of Heaven to the fullest. It’s a win-win!”
“What’s the catch?” Renton questioned. If there was one thing life taught him, nothing good in this world came without a cost. “Besides my height.”
“There’s no catch, silly!” Petra dismissed, waving her hand in front of her face. “This is Heaven. Everything here is too good to be true!” She leaned back, resting her pointer finger on her chin. “Or is it ‘Nothing here is too good to be true?” Renton didn’t blink, his skepticism overpowering the angel. “Okay, there’s a small catch. You can’t let anyone see you. If a normal person spots you, then we rip you straight back to the afterlife. You won’t get punished or anything; we just can’t have tiny dead people walking around in front of the general public.”
“That means I have to stay isolated from everyone and sneak everywhere to get around.” Renton paced back and forth on the palm, hypothetical scenarios dancing through his head. “What kind of second life is that?”
“Not everyone! Sorry, I only got half the presentation memorized, so I forgot a step.” The slideshow displayed a stock photo of a tiny man in a smiling woman’s palm being held up to her face, a pink heart outlining the pair. “You’re allowed to pick up to two people that can know of your existence. Basically, you get to live the life you were denied with that special someone. Younger kids tend to pick their parents, while teens and adults pick their lover and best friend. Or lovers, if that's your thing. We can't do more than two people, though. It gets too complicated after that."
"Molly. I want to be with Molly." His response took no hesitation.
"Figured as much. Who do you want as your number two?"
"Just her. That's all I need. It wouldn't be fair to Mom or Dad to only pick one of them, and there isn't anybody else I'm all that close with. Molly is more than enough."
"Alrighty! Then it's settled. We can begin right away, if you'd like."
"Please." Upon receiving Renton's consent, Petra chanted an indecipherable incantation. Luminous runes appeared around Renton, passing through his body as his surroundings faded from view. He felt his body get heavier and his hair flowing in the wind as he left the ethereal paradise and returned to the mortal realm. As the final rune passed, his halo disappeared, and Renton found himself alone. He stood before a door stretching a mile high, standing on short, musty carpeting. Even at his diminished height, he recognized the less than luxury apartment building he and Molly lived in together.
"Patching in. One, two, three," Petra's voice called directly into Renton's mind. "Sounds like our mental link is working, so we can communicate anytime without me being present."
"Hey, Petra, why am I standing outside my front door?" Renton asked, craning his neck to look at the thing. "Aren't you going to take me to Molly?"
"Right, I knew I forgot to tell you something!" Renton could hear pages flipping on the other end. “According to the rules, you have to get her attention yourself. I can’t help you.”
“What!? Why!?” he shouted, though his voice was as audible as a mouse’s squeak.
“Think of it like a test to prepare you for your new life as a sprite,” Petra advised, hoping her asspull of a justification was convincing enough.
“That doesn’t make any sense!” Renton’s eyes darted across the far-stretching hallway, grateful that it was empty.
“I don’t know what you’re freaking out for. I made it real easy for you. As soon as she opens that door, she’ll see you, and you’ll be all set.”
“What if she doesn’t look down?” There was a long pause.
“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” A startling groan roared before Renton as the old door creaked open. Towering over the miniscule man was the love of his life, a curvaceous pillar of a woman decked out in jeans and the local baseball team’s jersey. Renton froze, unable to comprehend the magnitude with which she stood over him. Her legs stood tall as skyscrapers but moved with the fluidity of water. Renton didn’t have long to gawk at his wife as her image was obscured behind the sole of her Converse. Her sneakers were well-worn, still standing after a hundred miles of abuse. The bottoms were filthy, covered in a cross-continental sampling of dirt and detritus. The sneaker was primed to make direct contact with the sprite as Molly took the first step out of her apartment. The rubber sky quickly plummeted towards the tiny man, giving him no time to escape its all-encompassing reach. Renton couldn’t move. He could barely think. He had already faced death once, already suffered hellish pain, but this was no less terrifying. To be brought back to life only to become a stain under his wife’s sneaker, what kind of sick joke was that?
“Petra!” Renton fell to the floor, the rubber sole a centimeter off the ground. “Help me!”