It's the peak of the twentieth century in a world God did not abandon. The veil between heaven and earth has always been short, but never transparent. Whether that is a blessing or a curse, no one could answer with any clear certainty.
My name is Scott William, and I'm dead. My heart still beats. It's the soul. It stopped burning. The phrasing makes it sound more dramatic. It isn't. All souls burn out at some point, some faster than others.
What determines the longevity of a soul is unknown. The fuel feeding the flame of the soul is also unknown. Even if it is observable, it is not quantifiable. It has become commonplace for life to end before the body does. My soul didn't even last eighteen years before the fire went cold, hence my visit to the hospital.
Saint Michael's Last Stop is a hospital for the dead. It has the privilege of dealing exclusively with the recently soulless.
"Hello, Mr. William. Congratulations on making it to the end of your evaluation," said the beautiful nurse, her soft voice making death sound like graduation. Her deep black eyes were incapable of conveying emotion, offering no comfort and nor discomfort—just procedure.
"Thank you, ma'am, but it doesn't feel real yet." I touched my chest with both hands. Warmth was still present. "I can still feel my heart beating, so it's scary to think I'm dead, but I'm sure you understand."
The nurse gave a polite smile, the kind you practice in the mirror, designed not to offend anyone. "I would not know, sir, for I have never been alive, and I have never known what a heartbeat feels like."
That's right—I forgot. She may look human. She might sound alive. Even if she is beautiful, she is still an angel… an angel of death.
"I'm deeply sorry," I replied. "I forgot."
"Now that you're ready, it is time to punch your ticket and find out which way your eternity is going," she said. She reached out her hand. "Please give me your right hand, Mr. William."
I did as instructed and offered my right hand. She collected the necessary blood for her test, and my heart couldn't stop racing. This was the test that determined whether I was booking a flight up or down.
"I've been a good guy, right?" I thought. "I've never done anything too extreme, right? I've always been innocent enough—well, as innocent as a guy in puberty can be, right?"
Scattered thoughts raced through my mind as she mixed my blood with a transparent solution in a test tube that would decide my fate.
I combed through my thoughts. I couldn't pin down a single point that proved I was a good guy, nor could I find one that proved I was a bad guy. The feeling could only be compared to waiting for a test you didn't study for.
No matter who asked, you couldn't give a concrete answer. Only the results could answer for you. This was no different. Still, nobody is ever pessimistic. Everybody wants to be optimistic about the results.
"Sir, the results are ready," the nurse said, shaking my shoulder and pulling me away from my anxious contemplation.
I looked up at the test tube. "Red… Are you sure? Red?"
My voice broke. My hands were wet. My pulse raced.
"Sir, the results are conclusive. Please prepare to depart, for your eternity awaits," the nurse said, the same practiced smile still plastered on her face as she sent me off to an eternity of pain.
What hurt most wasn't the result. It was that it wasn't personal. I was just a statistic. This was just procedure. She wasn't involved in the writing of the test—she only checked the results. I wasn't condemned.
I was processed.
---
Moments later, the nurse assigned me new clothing.
Gray pants. Gray shoes. Gray shirt.
All standard, regulated clothes for the soulless.
"Please follow me, Mr. William," the nurse said as she led me toward the back hospital parking lot. "This is as far as I can accompany you, sir. Wait here, and the appropriate transportation will arrive to take you to your new home."
She bowed—officially signaling the end of our connection.
As she turned to leave, I spoke.
"Home?" My voice shook. "What do you mean… where's home?"
I half-knew the answer. I half-hoped I was wrong.
She replied calmly, slowly. "The destination has not changed, sir. Hell."
As she began to walk away, panic broke through me. "Wait. Please—wait. Stay with me a little longer. At least…"
She did not turn back.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said over her shoulder. "I have other patients to attend to. Unfortunately, our services at Saint Michael's Hospital end here. Thank you, and goodbye."
I was left alone in the empty lot.
I looked up. The vastness suddenly felt meaningless as realization finally hit.
This was my last sight before hell.
Empty. Alone.
Tears fell. My heart sank. My mind went blank.
I wanted to run. My legs shook. I was dead—where could I run? I wanted to hide, but where? The empty lot stretched endlessly. My head ached.
The air grew thinner. My heart beat faster.
Is this suffocation? I thought.
No.
It was panic.
"Hahahahahahahaha."
Tears fell again.
"How did I even end up here?" I asked the silence. I'd never stolen anything worth missing. I'd never lied more than the average person. I abstained—not by choice, but still, I did.
And God knows—God knows—my voice shook—I've never killed a soul. So why am I on this path?
Maybe I should have prayed more. Gave more. Helped more. Gone to church more.
As I spiraled through what-ifs, a minibus arrived, labeled Heaven.
I couldn't look away.
I wanted to get on.
My legs refused.
All I could do was watch.
I bit my tongue. I wanted to curse. I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell.
What would it accomplish? Nothing.
Shortly after, the nurse returned with a group of soulless. I recognized many former classmates.
I guess I'd have company.
"I can't believe we all died together," said a familiar voice wearing a familiar face. "I guess the class of 2025 really was forever."
Lucy.
Pretty.
Still bubbly.
"At least we're going to heaven together!" she yelled.
My ears rang. Breathing became foreign.
Heaven?
How?
Not her. Impossible. Not her over me.
It couldn't be.
Not her.
A new minivan approached in the distance. I didn't need to think twice to know—it was labeled Hell.
"Exhale," I told myself. I guess time's up.
As the group drew closer, they noticed me.
"Scott!" Luca waved. "You really got here first? God, you must be eager for heaven."
I held back tears. My heartbeat raced.
"Who wouldn't be eager for eternal joy?" I said, looking down, unable to meet his gaze.
"So this is the ride to heaven?" he asked.
"Yes."
He tilted his head. "Where's your usual smile?" Then he laughed. "Were you waiting for more people? That's so like you. Come on—let's grab seats at the back."
The door opened and they entered slowly as I watched and my legs shook.
It was fear.
I wanted to follow but...
I couldn't.
I was the last one standing outside.
Luca turned back. "Come on," he said, reaching out. "I saved you a seat next to me."
Too ashamed to explain, I looked away.
Then my minivan approached.
My situation became fact.
In moments, everything would be revealed.
I panicked.
I grabbed Luca's hand.
Suddenly, I was pulled inside.
The doors closed.
My body collapsed. The stress, the pain, the guilt, the sorrow, the questions—everything gave way.
For the first time, I felt like I could relax.
"Exhale."
"Come on, man, get up. You're acting weird—even for a dead guy. Let's head to our seats."
Luca smiled and pointed toward the backseat window.
As I stood, I saw the nurse stirring. For a moment, I thought she was preparing to escort me out of the van, but she only stood there, her smile still fixed, her distant gaze unchanged. She waved as the van pulled away, signaling the completion of her task.
F** this,* I thought. I'm free. Why am I stressing?
I moved to the back and sat beside Luca. God, I was tired.
As I settled by the corner window, Luca chatted with Lucy as if this were a school trip. Her presence irritated me. If she could get a green card while I was handed damnation, then the system was broken. She talked loudly, carefree as ever.
"So, what happened to that boyfriend of yours?" Luca asked.
"Oh, him?" Lucy replied casually. "We broke up not too long ago. I knew my soul was fading, so I figured why drag it out?"
"That must've been hard," Luca said.
"Not really," she replied with a shrug.
Of course you wouldn't feel anything, I thought. Probably your twenty-third boyfriend. How someone like her could end up here was beyond me. A girl who bounced from body to body like it meant nothing. What value could she possibly bring to heaven that I couldn't? I may not have been perfect, but I was better than her. I had to be right?
"Lucy," I asked, forcing my voice steady, "did you ever think you'd make it to heaven?"
"Yeah," she said, smiling. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, it's not like I was Leatherface or something."
My jaw tightened. Sweat gathered at my temples. The way she said it—so casually—made my stomach twist.
Luca laughed. "Man, what's with all the questions?"
"I'm just curious," I said quickly. "I was nervous myself."
He smiled. "Yeah, I get that. Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it either. But if you got in, I figured I was safe."
Safe.
That word hit harder than anything else.
If only he knew how meaningless that guarantee was. How unfair it all felt. If we were being judged by the same standards, how could he pass while I failed? We lived similar lives. Same temptations. Same flaws. Yet here he was, smiling like he'd won a prize.
Don't let—
How hot and appealing he might look deceive you with that blonde hair and blue eyes combo. If you compare numbers, me and him were putting in the same amount of work on adult websites. If playing with yourself was a sport, Luca would've been LeBron James. And that's not even mentioning he'd never stepped inside a church. I at least averaged two or three visits a year. He couldn't be bothered. He was too busy smoking that flavored air. I told him vaping was bad, but he never listened. And somehow, he still made it through.
I love the guy, but he's never done anything to absolve himself of anything. Yet somehow, he made it through with more sins than me. Tell me how that makes sense.
Tell me where that's fair.
Tell me.
He leaned back, relaxed. "Guess doors just open for a pretty face, huh?"
My blood boiled. My jaw clenched.
"That's not an answer," I snapped.
Luca blinked, confused. "Man, why do you even care? The test is over. You passed. Doesn't matter if it was because you helped someone cross the street or ignored every bad thought you ever had. You won. Just enjoy it."
My heart pounded.
He said it so easily.
And that's what scared me the most.
The more I think about it, the more my mind starts to betray me. In my head, I can't find the moments where I've ever seen them be better than what I know them to be. But I've also never seen them truly deserve damnation.
So does that mean I was looking at them wrong? Or was I judging them based on my own systems? Was I really so bad that I deserved to burn—and were they really so good?
I've never seen Lucy keep a boyfriend longer than a month, and here I am, never having known the touch of a woman. Not because I believed in waiting for marriage, but because I was scared. Still, I followed the rule, right? Just because my reason wasn't pure—does that mean I wasted my time?
I might genuinely hate Lucy—not because of what she did, but because she lived her life her way and still made it to that seat without any help.
I thought lust was a sin. I mean, we both had it—just different kinds. Mine hurt fewer people. It only hurt me. But now I'll have to hurt forever.
Luca, my brother, my twin, my friend.
I don't want to prey on your pain, but if we both answered life's questions the same way, how did you pass and I fail? It was supposed to be all or nothing. If you burned, I burned. But now you're headed toward eternity in harmony while I'm left behind—and I don't understand.
Can someone help me make it make sense? I don't want to hate you, but I don't know what you did better. I don't want to hate the things we did together. But how am I the only one burning? One in three people did everything we did—and we were that one in three. So why are you here and I'm here by mistake?
If you hadn't grabbed my hand, I don't think I'd be on this bus at all. And I thank you for that. But why can't I become this on my own?
Am I just worthless? Am I just a sinner—judging people for sinning differently?
They say the rich don't make it to heaven, but I never bought anything without checking the price tag. Maybe that wasn't enough.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
To hell with it all. Give me a reason why you threw me in hell. I'm tired of guessing. I'm tired of lying.
If I could've found twenty-three people to find value in my body, my soul, my mind, my character—I would've dated all of them. I would've dated twice as many. But I still judge Lucy because I wasn't one of those twenty-three.
And I can't judge Luca without becoming a hypocrite.
The only reason I told him not to smoke wasn't because I thought it was wrong—I just didn't want him to die before his soul burned out. I wanted him to live as long as his spirit could. I never saw anything wrong with it.
And now I'm here judging him for something I never truly told him to stop doing. I judge him for the porn.
But God knows I was right there with him when puberty hit. I was right there. I never told him to stop because it felt good. Maybe not as good as what we wanted—but it was good enough.
We might not have been physically attractive, but we were young. We didn't understand women. I mean, we were fucking seventeen. I don't think any seventeen-year-old really understands a girl.
And the more I judge them, the more it hurts. I'm the one who failed. I'm the one who fucked up. So why am I looking for flaws I'll never find? I don't know what to judge.
I don't know if Lucy, when I couldn't see her, was dealing with depression or an abusive father. But she still found it in her heart to be cheerful. She tried to lighten the mood. I know I say she's loud—but she was never mean. She made everyone feel included. She made me feel included.
And now I act like that's a sin.
If I could genuinely find faults in Luca, I wouldn't be crying like this. If he and I were the same, I'd know what I did wrong. If I could find what he did wrong, maybe I'd understand.
Maybe I didn't know him like I thought I did. I knew what his mother liked in the morning. I knew what his father liked. But maybe I never knew what they were going through.
This van is getting closer and closer to a place that doesn't want me. I'm on this path now, so I guess it'll work out. But I don't think I want it to—not for these last few seconds.
Because even if I didn't qualify for heaven before, I definitely don't now.
I look more fitting for hell than I ever did before.
Isn't that ironic?
"Scott—Scott, snap out of it! Are you okay? You've been zoning out—I'm worried, man. You don't look so good," Lucas said, shaking my shoulder. I had been lost in a daze of thought. I looked in the mirror and saw I was drenched in sweat, as if I'd just finished a hundred-meter dash.
"Don't worry about it," I said, forcing my voice steady. "I was just… thinking. More like asking rhetorical questions, because I can't answer them myself. But I'll get the answers soon."
And just like that, the vehicle stopped. We had reached the end. Silent. Seamless. Effortless.
"So this is it," Luca said, pointing toward the gates ahead. "End of the road, huh? Guess this is our new home."
His words—so casual, so wrong—made my chest tighten. He was right: it was the end of the road. But whether this was home… I still didn't know.
One by one, the soulless stepped off the van. The second their feet touched the ground, they dissolved into light—bright, blinding, searing. My heart slammed.
"Wait… what's happening?" I whispered. "I thought this was heaven."
Panic clawed up my throat. I looked at Luca. Calm. Unfazed.
"Luca, I'm scared. This doesn't feel safe. That girl—she just disappeared."
He tilted his head. "Disappeared? She's right there." He gestured toward the gates. "You've been anxious the whole ride. Come on. Let's get off."
He grabbed my hand.
Resistance slammed into me. Like gravity itself was holding me back. Every other soul stepped forward effortlessly, transforming into light as they crossed the threshold. Smiling. Peaceful.
I couldn't move.
"Maybe we should wait a bit longer," I said, panic rising.
"You always get nervous before the first step," he laughed softly. "It's like the first day of school. Come on."
He stepped forward—and vanished.
I screamed.
"Luca! Wait! Please!"
I lunged, but something slammed me back. Hard. I hit the floor of the bus. Tears fell. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't even hear myself anymore.
I realized the truth: I only made it this far because he pulled me. His strength carried me. Without him, I had nothing.
The bus engine hummed. I looked up.
The driver stood there—tall, composed, inhumanly beautiful. The male version of the nurse.
"Please," I begged. "Help me. I need to get off. I need answers."
"I'm sorry, sir," he said evenly. "This is a one-way route. No stops. No exceptions."
"Please!" I shouted. "I can't end like this! It's right there! Just a moment!"
"I regret to inform you," he said, monotone, "I cannot alter the route."
My chest tightened. "But—if you have questions, policies—anything…"
He paused, then continued, slowly, deliberately.
"To my understanding, sir, your evaluation is over. Further testing is impossible and irrelevant. The criteria for the test are unknown."
"Unknown? Aren't you… an angel? Aren't you the one who determines?" I gasped.
Silence. Suffocating. Until he spoke again.
"I regret to inform you… we are merely administrators. Collectors of results. We have no hand in the decisions themselves.
The Administrator—God Himself—alone determines outcomes. Just as you cannot determine the wind's direction, we cannot determine the results. We merely follow procedure."
My blood ran cold.
"Are you saying my answers… don't exist? That I can never get them?"
"Yes, sir."
"No. I can't accept this. I won't. I'd rather stay here than go to a fate I don't understand. Let me stay here—any eternity on this road is better than eternity of burning!"
The Angel's voice remained calm, detached, corporate. "I regret to inform you, Mr. William… this is not a road, and this is not a vehicle. It is your perception of the journey. There is no true beginning or end. It is a circle. Where you started is where you end.
You were allowed to run, but all paths return to the same place. Your destination was determined, and it has not changed."He paused for a moment and then continued"why did you ran?"
I laughed, erratically. "Why did I ran.Why wouldn't I run? Even for one day? Who wouldn't run from eternal suffering, if only for a day? One day less of pain… anyone would take it.
" Tears streamed.
The Angel's voice was steady. "We acknowledge your fear. We do not understand it, but we acknowledge it."
I looked at the endless road stretching before me. The loop was clear. My attempts at escape meaningless.
My only hope—Luca's grace—had failed to change my outcome.
And so it begins again.
The road stretches.
Endless.
And I ride.