A Deal With The Devil
The deal was simple; we'd get to ask him a couple of questions and he got to ask us a couple of questions. A bit odd if you ask me. What could The Devil possibly want to know from us? I couldn't tell you.
"Is heaven real?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied, his voice like dying embers in a fireplace, "and so is hell."
"Who goes to heaven?"
"Whoever God wants there."
"I'm afraid that's much too vague for us."
"What's that like?" he asked, his eyes perking up.
"I'm sorry?"
"What's it like to be afraid?"
A bit confused, I tried my best to describe the feeling of fear. My explanation was a bit clumsy but he appeared to be satisfied with it.
"Why'd you want to know that?" I asked.
"Because when God made me, he didn't give me the ability to feel fear. I can't feel lots of things."
"What can you feel?"
"Pain."
I got us back on track.
"Can you elaborate on your answer from before? About heaven?"
"Of course. Heaven is open to all of God's creations, whatever they do."
I breathed a sigh of relief. When I was called in, the people in charge told me that my primary objective was to secure information on how humanity could get to heaven. With that sorted, anything else I gathered was a bonus.
"Are you going to heaven too? Since you were created by God," I asked.
"I could, but I won't," he replied.
"Why?"
"Because I committed the most egregious sin. I did something only God was supposed to do."
"What's that?"
"I tried to create angels. They didn't work out. My angels were made in my image, so I guess I'm to blame. All they do is cause suffering and destruction, so God said they had to go to hell, to suffer for an eternity"
"You mean the demons?"
"Yes, I guess I do. I couldn't go to heaven, not while my creations were suffering. So I decided that when the time came, I would travel to hell and suffer with them."
"Why?"
"Because I love them."
I checked my watch, "Time's almost up."
"Yes it is." he replied.
"I have to go back and get debriefed." I said, preparing to leave the facility.
"They'll be ecstatic when they get the good news."
"And what might that be?"
"That no matter what we do, we're going to heaven."
"But you're not, or anyone else for that matter."
"But," I said, my voice wavering, "You said…"
"Yes, I know what I said my child. But you're not one of God's creations," he said with a tone I would mistake for sadness if I didn't know better,
"You're one of mine."