The Raptured

It didn't happen at midnight like I thought it would. The seconds stretched into minutes and minutes into hours. The dead silence of the night reminded me that these were my last few hours on earth. I replayed my past on a loop.

I lived within my means, helped those in need, and never stole from anyone except that one time in seventh grade, but that was only a pen. God wouldn't fault me for that, right? I've repented plenty of times since then. I made sure to switch off my alarm clock resting just under the wooden cross that was once in my childhood home. Its red numbers glowed, illuminating the foot of my bed. Any minute now. Would it happen while I was awake? Maybe I had to be asleep. I rolled over in bed and contemplated checking in with Susan.

What if it happened already? What if only I was left of my congregation? What if it was only me and the choir director’s daughter who refused to get baptized again after her incident? My angst got the better of me and I dialed Susan. She answered on the first ring.

"I really oughta change my ringtone. I thought it was time."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought it happened without me."

She let out a quiet laugh and I heard the preacher tell her to get off the phone gossiping before she gets left behind. "I gotta go, but I'll see you in the kingdom."

When someone suggested having a sleep-in at the church, it was quickly shot down because of a certain member's past discretions. It was also brought up that we wouldn't want anyone to feel bad for being left behind so it was best we all waited it out in our respective homes. I got on my knees and prayed one more time before I climbed beneath the heavy duvet and willed myself to sleep.

Morning came and went. My faith waned, but didn't falter. My constant texts with Susan meant she and the preacher were still here, so I didn't miss it. It was hard to go on like my life here on this earth wasn't coming to a close. Maybe I should just try to do more good today. I started at the soup kitchen. Ours was only open on Wednesdays so I went to the one ran by the city. After filling too many plates with slop, I donated what little remained of my belongings to the Salvation Army. When that was done, I went to the dollar store and got some poster boards and markers and posted in the church's message board. Susan, the preacher, and others were going to meet me at the church. My lawn chair was on its last legs, but I wrote on my poster and sat close to the curb.

Today's the day. Get right with Him NOW.

After twenty minutes, most of the members had joined me on the crooked and cracked sidewalk. Some already seated, some just pulling up, eager to get their poster board.

"Great thinking on the posters," Susan said as she unfolded her chair and sat beside me.

"Just doing my part."

People drove by, some honked and cheered, but most ignored us, which was fine with me. A small black BMW with horns on the top, slowed and pulled up close to the curb. Some teenage boys were stuffed into the seats, piercings and tattoos on their young bodies. One laid his elbow on the window. I could practically smell their intentions from here. Could see it in the way their smiles curved.

"Go with God, son. We don't need no trouble."

He leaned out further and read Susan's sign aloud followed by a "Fucking Jesus freaks."

A plastic Slurpee cup flew through the air, splattering it’s warm contents all over Susan and I. The wheels screeched before the preacher could even scramble out of his chair. Susan's mouth was wide open, the few drops on her face trailed close to her lips.

"I am going to be covered in piss when I’m raptured."

The preacher jogged over to the car and returned with napkins and wipes while the rest of the members grew angry and antsy. They stood with their posters, jabbing them to the sky like pitchforks.

"Why don't y’all go home and get changed?"

"Absolutely not," Susan and I said at the same time.

The baby wipes masked most of the smell. My shirt was beyond saving, but I dabbed at it anyway.

"Best we can do is pray for ‘em."

The preacher agreed and called everyone over and we bowed our heads as he led us in prayer. “Our father, our savior, we come to you in prayer to ask for forgiveness for this nation. We come to you to beg for your mercy. We ask that you bring us to your kingdom, Lord. Welcome us with open arms. Allow us to leave these shells behind, Lord. We thank you for this time we've experienced here on Earth. We thank you for every single second, but we are ready, Lord. We are ready to live eternally in your kingdom. Amen."

Amens and trumpets rang out as the skies opened up.

I looked around to make sure everyone else was hearing this.

"Thank you, God, for answering our prayers."

The sidewalk was a mess of saints cheering and clapping. Hugs, tears, and waves of happiness washed over all of us. We didn't ascend like I thought we would. I expected to fly high above the Earth, one final goodbye to this Earth, but instead, we all faded, one by one, clothes and all. I might've regretted not getting changed, but this was it.

The bare white walls had an opalescent sheen to them, like they were painted with the crushed gems. A shiver ran down my spine as I looked around the empty hallway. Where had everyone gone? A single door at the end of the hall glowed, drawing me toward it. My name was written on a gold plaque. I did it. All those years of following the preaching. All those years of being good finally paid off.

I turned the handle, and my right hand immediately started itching as I walked into the room. It was dark, eerie, and smelled slightly damp. The door slammed and disappeared behind me. Something scraped the floor, and a chair appeared in the center. The same glow emitted from it. Once seated, a projector started rolling. My entire life played before me. The highlights and lowlights, including the time I stole that pen in the seventh grade. The bad ones were eclipsed by the times I stood up for people like me, people who've been oppressed, people who've been hunted for their beliefs, people who spoke the truth.

The tears rolled down my cheeks, and a sense of pride washed over me. The lights flickered on and revealed a desk in front of me with a single sheet of paper and a black pencil. The crisp paper was blank, but I felt an urge to write something. Dark ink bled through the paper; the first question sent another chill down my spine.

Are you proud of yourself?

I looked around. Yes.

Would you live your life over again if you could?

For the most part, yes.

Is there anything you want to apologize for?

I'm sorry I didn't do more.

After a few seconds, the writing disappeared, a small book replaced it. It was about the same size as a bible with a single note to read after leaving. The door appeared, and I stood, ready for this next phase of my life. Ready to reap my rewards. Ready to reconvene with those I love and those I've once held dear.

The light blinded me as I stepped through the door, my hand itched as I shielded my eyes with my book. As the light faded, a familiar street came into view.

No.

No.

No.

I clutched my racing heart and wiped at my forehead. Only then did I notice the glaring scar on my palm. The symbol resembled something of a bruise, but upon closer inspection, hundreds of small lines formed an intricate symbol. It bled through both sides of my hand. My sore palm gripped the iron railing, and I sat down, trying to make sense of it all.

The church door opened, and Susan came out in tears. "Jennie," she wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve and wrapped me in a hug.

"What happened?" I asked.

She held up her hand, bearing the same mark as mine, the implication clear as day.

"Guess we didn't live a life to his liking," she said as her bottom lip quivered.

A moment of silence passed between us as a few cars passed, two blowing right through the red light.

"How would we even know it was him and not someone playing tricks on us?" She said through tears.

"Like who?"

"The Devil."

"He wouldn't."

The thought had crossed my mind for a fleeting second when I entered that dark room, but it was no use to try to rationalize it now.

"Think about it, Jen. If God let him test Job, who’s to say this isn’t one?"

"Susan, enough."

This was too much all at once. My mind was at war with itself and what to do next. I walked down the steps and looked at the small book; the leather looked like something I’d find in any store.

“Have you read yours yet?" She asked.

I shook my head and looked at the posters on the ground.

Repent now.

Save your soul.

Jesus loves you.

God saves.

A low scoff escaped as I glanced at the book again. To be honest, I was afraid of what was in it. Afraid that I’d be stuck here for the rest of eternity. Afraid that I'd never get what I was promised. Susan flipped through her book, but from where I stood, the pages were blank.

I opened mine, and dark red ink stained the translucent pages, repeating the same phrase. I slammed it shut and wiped my nose.

"I'll call you," I said as I ran to my car before she could catch up and pulled out of the parking lot.

My usual gospel station came through the speakers, and I punched the power button. If God didn't want me in Heaven, I'd make this place Hell.