MicroHorror

Was this Heaven?

Surely not.

And yet huge, diamond-encrusted gates towered over him.

“Maybe the Almighty approves of murder, after all,” he said.

“And maybe not.”

The voice startled him, but the appearance of the aberration that stepped through the gates was even more of a shock.

“So you think you’ve ‘gone to Heaven,’ do you?” the creature snarled, its voice akin to the roar of a blast furnace. Standing at least ten feet tall, it was green and covered in scales. The face was apelike, with a flattened nose, and yet a mane surrounded its head. Arms and legs like tree stumps, murderous talons protruding from its three-fingered hands.

“Who… what… are you?”

The creature glared down at him, its diamond-shaped eyes like lumps of coal.

“My name is not important, little man. Had you been standing at the gates of Heaven, the Archangel would have greeted you. But of course, you are a serial killer; that is why you are standing at the gates of Hell and facing me, the Anti-Angel. Jake Farley, you have come to a very warm place.”

Jake staggered backwards, but came up against an invisible wall.

“Please, I can explain.”

Hands on hips, the Anti-Angel towered over him.

“I’m sure you can. But I’ve heard every one of your lies, so allow me to save you the trouble.” And with a flourish, it produced a scroll out of thin air and unrolled it. “On March the seventh, 1982, you started a fire in a library that killed the librarian, a fifty-two-year-old widow called Martha Huff. You didn’t intend to kill her, but you were still seduced by the publicity. In 1984 you stole a rifle and opened fire on a crowd in a shopping mall. Three people died, one of them a child…”

Jake Farley bowed his head as the roll call went on. It was like being back in court.

“And finally, Lieutenant Frank Hutt of the NYPD, whom you gunned down in that final shoot-out.”

The Anti-Angel tossed the scroll and it vanished in a blast of fire. “Jake Farley, there is certainly a place in Hell for you!”

“Wait, please…”

The Anti-Angel pointed at him, fire shot from its fingers and Jake Farley burst into flames. “We believe in making the punishment fit the crime,” the Anti-Angel boomed as the serial killer writhed in agony on the ground.

The flames went out, but a second later bullets were tearing through his body, blood spurting from a dozen wounds.

“Thought you’d experienced it all in the electric chair, didn’t you? But that was just the beginning. Now you are going to experience everyone else’s death… over and over again. Oh, no, Jake, you have not ‘gone to Heaven.’”

Extending a taloned finger, the Demon sliced his victim open from throat to crotch. “And it’s true what they say, Jake,” it added, twirling a piece of intestine around its fingers. “You really are a long time dead.”