Space Witches 1: The Book of Witches

3. Horns, Gnats and Gates of Hell

"You don't seem to have any markings that would tell us how you died," Matthew commented, "but if you woke up in your pyjamas, then you probably don't have any marks. Many people dream of that, you know. Of dying in their sleep, without noticing it at all. So congratulations."

"Erm... should I say thank you now?"

Mia pushed the marmalade back into my direction. "Heavenly Fruit Company" said the label.

"Eat something... " she bent forward to see my mug, "...Nina. Because as we are at the Halfway House, we are not quite complete as dead people. We are still half physical, so to speak. And so we are hungry and thirsty and need some sleep. Not much but some."

"If you are not interested in it, I can eat that roll," a voice behind me said and a swarm of flies began to circle my head.

"Get lost, George!" Mia poked the demon with a fork. "You are supposed to fast to get rid of at least some of those critters in your hair before your time is up..."

"What's his story?" I asked, and decided to follow her advice and eat something, even though I had begun to feel rather restless, thinking about my family and what they were probably going through now. Still, I couldn't deny that I found all of this really interesting. Mad, but interesting.

I took a sip of the coffee. It was delicious, much better than the coffee we normally drank. It was very expensive on the plates. Mother usually bought it on the black market, as one of her coworker's relatives worked for one of the plantation plates. Wages there were so low that it was taken for granted they would supplement their income by selling part of the produce on their own initiative. As long as they met the assigned quota, it was usual to turn a blind eye to this entrepreneurship. Sometimes the officials arrested a few workers for stealing, the rest went on strike, and the guilty ones were given fines at court. Then they returned, business continued as normal, and the rest of the workers went back to work. Being on strike was viewed as a kind of a summer holiday, as the plantations had summer most of the year and there wasn't a standard vacation season.

"Oh, George... what a bad boy he was when he was alive," Matthew raised his head from a book he was reading. "Don't know where to begin telling you the awful stuff he was involved in... he was knocking right at the gates of hell, when he was given a last chance to make good."

"There really is a hell?" I swallowed, and not coffee this time. Dang. Why had I not attended church as my mother wanted me to...

"Well, sort of. After all we are not in heaven yet. Or in the heart of hell either. We're all in the same boat together, here in the Waiting Level. And so George was there in the lowest part of the Waiting Level with others of his kind. Now, the amusing thing is, that each bad deed they have ever done that has caused fear, sorrow or depression in others seems to take the form of a gnat of some sort that will not leave them alone for a second. That explains the fauna crawling on his body, d'you see? There might be some flora as well, as dear George here seems to have accumulated quite a bit of dust, mold and not a little dirt in his previous existence. And the horns... well, the bad guys don't get them when they're alive, of course, but if you have killed someone on purpose, they grow on you here. The more people that have been killed, the bigger the horns - some have real antlers. There's no point trying to cut them off. They just grow back. Still, even the bad guys and dolls have a chance, if an angel should decide to work with them to clean the dirt off their soul and body. And Anthony here has a good heart and frequents those dirtier levels in search of souls who might still have a chance... I have no idea what he sees in George, but maybe he can help him get rid of a few spiders and ticks so that he can enter a lighter level of hell."

"Thank you, Matthew," the old angel said. "I am glad you realise that George has potential. And surely he has it in him to reach even higher levels than hell. One day I am sure we will see his horns vanish."

If George had had a tail, he would have wagged it.

"A shower every now and then wouldn't exactly hinder the process," Mia commented.

George grinned. There was a definite... odor about him for sure.

"But how exactly did I die then, if I have died?" I returned to the most burning issue in my mind.

"You have. No ifs about it," Mia leaned back, rocking her chair onto two legs, "and I don't have the answer to that. Probably in your sleep, as you had the pyjamas on, as Matthew already said. Of course we could go back and check, if you are that interested."

"We can?" I was on my feet immediately. "Of course I want to know!"

"OK, OK. Let's go," Mia got up. "Matthew, want to come along? You've been sitting here for so long you could do with some exercise. You'll be developing a paunch unless you take a few steps every now and then."

"I wonder why you haven't turned into a beach ball yet, looking at the amount of marmalade you eat..." Matthew threw back.

"Oh but it tastes so heavenly!" Mia chirped at Anthony who smiled back at her. "And I'm always on the move, aren't I? I've been trying to make myself visible to the guy who shot me. I want to scare the living daylights out of him for the pain he caused my mother. And for all the opportunities he stole from me. That takes a lot of energy," she said to me.

"You can do that? Show yourself?"

"Oh yeah! That's a lot of fun, if you can manage it. But I'm not saying it is easy. Most people just don't see us. Or they explain us away, so to speak, when they are too scared to admit they are seeing ghosts. There is a group of people who can see us quite easily, though..."

"Come on you two," Matthew was already striding through the kitchen, "let's go!"