Things that he took to the Afterlife

 

Clutching his dog's ashes, his grandfather’s watch chain and a recipe for toad in the hole, he joined the queue for the afterlife. His last few breaths had been painless, calm, a growing sense of serenity as his physical body shut down and he found himself letting go of it all. The ambitions he’d never realised, the relationships he’d broken and failed to mend, all the places he hadn’t managed to travel to, the Taj Mahal, Machu Picchu, Nemesis Reborn.

 

All his worries about money, unpaid debts, his stocks and shares which had risen and then fallen, piddly pensions scattered about from his various jobs, the fallout from his sister over their mother’s will. These issues had melted away in the final scene of his life and the futility of it had amused him in his last moments. He’d died with a peaceful smile on his face.

 

‘When one door closes, another opens,’ at least that’s what they say and no sooner had Len heard the final clink of life’s door closing heavily behind him that he found himself in a long queue. It was annoying and somewhat unexpected. He felt he’d spent enough time queuing when he was alive, in banks and supermarkets and airports, the Post Office, the wavy slide at the swimming pool. ‘I don’t bloody believe it,’ he thought to himself.

 

People stood in silence, eyeing each other suspiciously. Len stood on his tip toes and looked down the line, hoping to see a familiar face but of course everyone was a stranger, except for a couple who’d died together in a speed boat accident; they were talking non-stop about whose fault it was.

 

The man in front of him suddenly turned around and looked at the items Len was holding, then at him and said, ‘You won’t be needing any of that,’ before shaking his head in a way which seemed judgemental before turning back around and folding his arms.

 

‘Excuse me?’ said Len.

 

The man half turned this time and side-eyed him as if was immobile somehow, a stiff neck perhaps. ‘That gold jewellery and your note, and whatever’s in that container.’

 

‘My dog’s ashes,’ said Len, hoping it would shut the guy up.

 

‘You’ll see your dog at the Rainbow Bridge won’t you,’ said the man.

 

‘Rainbow Bridge is closed for repairs,’ said a woman from further down the queue.

 

‘You’re sodding joking me!’ said another woman.

 

They all shuffled forward a few meters. Len was confused and being mostly a practical man, he’d never really believed in the Rainbow Bridge. He’d always kept Floppy’s ashes with him because he’d moved around the country a lot, living in different places and Floppy and those ashes had been the only constant in his life, they meant a lot to him.

 

A large man who’d been standing behind him and occasionally getting a bit too close, so close that Len could feel the guy’s breath on the back of his neck, piped up, ‘Ashes will just get lost in all the other ash if you’re going where I’m going,’

 

Len thought for a few seconds before realising what the man was implying. He imagined his recipe burning too and he quickly unfolded it and read it several times over until he was satisfied he’d memorised it. He also untangled the watch chain and held it up, gripping the dog’s ashes under his arm while he attempted to fasten it around his neck for safety.

 

‘Do you want a hand with that?’ The large man stepped up even closer behind him and before he could respond and with surprisingly delicate hands he took the liberty of fastening the watch chain at the back of Len’s neck.

 

‘Thanks,’ Len said with a shudder.

 

Oh god, I wish I hadn’t died now, he thought. But there was no way he could have carried on, not with COPD, two heart attacks, a bad hair transplant, his driving ban, his overdue tax return, all those used coffee pods he needed to take to the council recycling centre. No, he was better off where he was, leaving all that hassle behind.

 

The queue moved again, quite a few strides this time. Len felt a slight wave of apprehension about what was going to happen when he reached the front. He even glanced back towards the closing door but all he could see was a line of people, mostly older folks like him. 

 

‘We’re all going in the same direction aren’t we..’said the man behind him with a shrug.

 

Len tried to think of a suitable response but couldn’t so he remained silent. ‘It was ever thus,’ said the man in front of him after a pause.

 

It was comforting for Len knowing Floppy’s ashes were with him, inside their carved wooden container. He couldn’t have beared to leave them behind, knowing that his sister or perhaps his ex wife would hire some house clearance company in, only to chuck them away. Memories of Floppy always made him feel warm and fuzzy inside and he sighed and smiled as he gripped the container to his chest but in doing so he accidentally dropped the scrap of paper with his recipe on.

 

Without hesitation the large man behind him whipped it up off the floor. ‘What’s this, a love letter?’ he said, opening it up and looking at it, holding it away from him as if he were used to wearing glasses under normal circumstances.

 

Len was annoyed now and a little uncomfortable, ‘It’s just a recipe,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t matter now because I’ve memorised it.’

 

‘Oh have you? Okay, let’s test you then, how many grams of flour are in toad in the hole…that’s for four people by the way, it says here?’

 

‘Er…two hundred and fifty grams.’

 

The man grinned ‘Gotcha!’ he said.

 

His face and manner reminded Len of somebody and then he realised who it was. It was Jordan Peterson on Channel Four news, the screwed up twinkly eyes, the self-satisfied voice, the repeated attempts to poke him and gain some sort of power over him.

 

‘What do you mean, gotcha?’ he said as he reminded himself that this guy would undoubtedly be going to Hell and therefore he hopefully wouldn’t have to put up with him for too much longer.

 

‘It says here,’ the man said, nodding his head very slowly as he spoke, ‘one hundred and fifty grams.’

 

‘Oh,’ said Len, ‘well can you pass it back now please so I can revise a bit more?’

 

‘You would have served up a brick,’ said the man as he returned the recipe, ‘no air in your toad in the hole, be like a paving slab. And all that energy wasted, two hundred and eighty degrees it says..for your oven. Almost as hot as where I’m going. Like Seville in July. Have you been to Seville?’

 

‘No.’ Len looked at the recipe again but he was unable to concentrate. He could see the front now, there were people dressed in white, they looked friendly and calm as they spoke to the folks in the queue. It appeared that each person’s face was scanned by some mobile machine and then they were asked a couple of questions before being ushered through a gate. Everyone was smiling and it made him feel more relaxed as he got ever closer to his destiny.

 

There was a poster on the wall which was just coming into view and it was an image of hundreds of pets, dogs, cats, horses, parrots, rabbits, rats and ferrets. ‘The Rainbow Bridge is currently closed for repairs. Those going to Heaven will be reunited with their pets soon. Only a tiny percentage of pets (mostly cats) fail to reach Heaven so there is no need to panic. Sorry for any inconvenience.’

 

‘Oh I need a fag now!’ said the woman who had ranted earlier about it being, sodding joking. ‘I’ve been dying to see my dogs.’

 

‘You’ll still get to see them,’ said another woman.

 

‘Will she?’ said the man behind Len with raised eyebrows, ‘Getting her fag lit for free more like...’

 

There were tuts from some of the others but they were nearing the front now. Len suddenly felt nervous as it crossed his mind that he might not be on the right list. Maybe his bad hair transplant would cause him to fail the face scan. What if it said, no face detected, and Heaven was getting towards its full quota for the day? There was surely only one alternative but what about Purgatory? Hopefully that was also shut for repairs.

 

As he reached the front, Len tried really hard to appear normal. It was like being at customs, the more he tried to look normal, the more irregular he felt until he couldn’t even hold his face in a normal expression.

 

‘Step forward for me please,’ said one of the stewards, a lady in a long white dress, ‘now just stand still for a sec and I’ll scan your face.’ Len thought about Floppy and looked at the machine which flashed. ‘And what’s your name please?’

 

‘Lennard Roberts.’

 

‘Thanks Lennard Roberts. I’m pleased to tell you, you’re going to Heaven today. Please take two steps to the right and the gate will open for you.’

 

Just as she finished speaking, the man behind let out a very loud animalistic noise which was somewhere between a chimpanzee and dinosaur. This caused a fluster amongst the stewards and one of them knocked over the face scanner. Len was briefly torn between helping her and going through the gate but he was concerned that the gate might close and he might not get another chance to go to Heaven so he rushed through the opening.

 

Immediately the air was different, it felt soft and clean, the temperature was warm, not too warm, just right and there was a light mist, a soft of magical white light. He thought he saw a unicorn through the mist and stopped to get a closer look but he was disturbed by laughter behind him and it wasn’t the laughter of angels. Indeed, it sounded almost evil.

 

He turned around and to his horror, that man who had been behind him during queuing and who had released that absurd animal sound had managed to tailgate him into Heaven.

 

‘I knew that would work!’ he said, ‘and if it didn’t then I was going to Hell anyways, wasn’t I old boy,’ he slapped Len hard on the shoulder. ‘Idiots running the shop, ha ha ha! I’m gonna go now, off into the mist. Don’t say anything will you.’

 

Len stood in shock as he watched the large figure disappear into the white swirling mist. He sighed and clutched Floppy’s ashes. ‘Looks like we’ve made it to Heaven, Floppy. I’m here if you can see me.’ He lifted his hand up to touch his chain but to his further horror, it was no longer there and all he could feel were the hairs on his chest.