Year: 1924 So now I’m floatin’ up into the sky along with everybody else in view. We look like damned champagne bubbles risin’ to the rim. I make a decsion right then: if I ever get my loafers back on dirt, I’m tossin’ my soberity out the nearest dive bar window. We’re risin’ into the sky, maybe a mile up now. Men are clinging to their hats, women have lost their heels. I look down. I can still see my red jalopy. When I look back towards the direction I’m headed, I see the sky turning colors and things flying around that I can’t describe. I’ll give it a shot, though, why the hell not. These guys, they have wings and they seem to be part-cloud or something. I can see right through them at times. I see some zoomin’ around that are blue and some are yellowish. They are watchin’ us get closer. Waitin’. For what, I don’t know. I guess I’ll call them angels and I guess this is that moment I’ve heard church folk prattle on about most my life. I never put much stock in it, but it’s what I’m seein’. Unless what I’m seein’ aint really real. I thinkin’, though: if this is the moment the good Lord lifts His followers to Heaven and sends the bad ones to Hell, what am I doin’ up here? I aint one of the good ones by anyone’s measure, even my dear dead mother’s. As we soar higher and higher, the angels smile wider. The people around me seem happy about it. I guess I should feel happy, too. I just can’t shake my memories. They play across my mind like a picture show: - Talkin’ back to my mother and gettin’ punched up by my father, just like most the nights. - Gettin’ him back one night as he was passed out drunk in an alley, beatin’ him with a tire iron till he was still. For good. - Connectin’ with other boys of no good reputation and knockin’ off some local joints. - The things I did to survive in the clinker. We won’t go into that list. I see the persons ahead of me dissapear through pink clouds. I glance back the way I came. I can’t see the ground. There’s beauty and happiness swirlin’ around me and I think maybe I made it through somehow. Maybe the love for my mother got me in the good graces of Saint Peter, the gatekeeper. I want to believe that real bad. But no. I can’t. My mind won’t expect it. My mind refuses it. And just like that the beautiful scene playin’ out around me fizzles away. Turns out, I’m not flyin’. I’m bein’ pulled; reeled in. A dark green tentincle bigger than any I’ve ever seen has me by the leg. I see the skies go dark and I spy the tenticles attached to everyone around me. They still seem happy. Guess they’re still seein’ angels. Guess that’s an easy thing to see when you want to. I almost don’t want to look ahead and see what’s waitn’ at the end of these flesh vines. I look. It’s a mouth, which is both what I expected and also a lot worse. Teeth as far as the eyes can see. Sharp like a dogs. It’s hard to see the rest of it, it’s dark color blends in with the stars behind it. The people dissapear inside. Am I scared? Of course I am. No sense denyin’ it. I was scared when my daddy would pound me. But I fought back. I always fight back. I pull out my knife and chop away at the thing grabbin’ me, not thinkin’ itll do much good. It does enough. The tenticle lets go. I begin to tumble down. As I go, I see the happy faces of the others around me turn to horror. Guess I shattered the creatures illusion. Guess it had people seein’ what they wanted to see to make them easier to gobble. The ground in comin’ at me fast now. If the vision I saw was too good to be true, guess I’m about to find out what it’s really gonna be like.