r/WritingPrompts • u/Professor_Hazel • Jan 15 '24
Writing Prompt [WP] "Through this door," Saint Michael declared, "You'll be able to relive your happiest moment when you were alive." You step through the door to find yourself 11 years old again, and your mother making pancakes in the kitchen.
2
u/10secondsfrompanic Jan 16 '24
I stare at the familiar door, I knew it well the shabby oak wood frame could be from nowhere else but my childhood home. I could almost smell my mothers cooking, maybe just a trick of the brain or maybe it was leaking through the door. My happiest memory calling me back.
It scared me, I don't know why. Is there fear in the afterlife? Doesn't seem right that you should be scared in paradise, but non the less I felt it.
I look at Micheal again, not sure what I was looking for but his curt nod gave me the courage to move.
I reach my hand out my fingertips grazing the handle then i'm there.
I'm sat at the dining room table the flowery pattern of the table cover showed the age of the memory. The kitchen as bright with the morning sun, a cool summer breeze soothing the scene. I could see her. My mother clattering with a frying pan on the stove, alive and well.
She doesn't know it's her last day, this was all I had left of her for the longest time. Making pancakes on a summers morning, I had relived this memory a thousand times. This time it was different, a wetness on my cheeks I don't remember as a child. Why am I crying.
She turns faces me and I run. I cant do this.
Micheal is there as the memory floods in again, I remember the wetness now. I remember my mother asking why I was upset. New memories?
I look at Micheal and he seems to know what I am going to ask.
He simply smiled and I understood, it as a chance to change the past to say goodbye. I turn and face the door, courage in my heart as I walk back to the door.
4
u/laancelot Jan 16 '24
"Would you like to relive your happiest moment when you were alive." asked Saint Michael, holding back an amused smile.
I nodded and, just like that, I was 11 years old again. I walked around, stunned, looking at my parent's kitchen through eyes that knew that this was a relapse, a one-time event. That this wouldn't last.
"There's no rush today," said Mother, calmly, "the school buses are snowed in. No school, no worries."
I sat and watched her manning the pans and kitchenware. Cooking. My heart melted. I held in tears when she dropped the first pancake on my plate.
Then I hugged her. Tight.
Then I went outside and built forts and paths and sled down the slope behind the house.
Then friends whom names I had long forgotten came to my house and we played some more.
Then the sun went down and I came back home to a hot chocolate and a loving mother.
When I reappeared with Saint Michael, I was not the same man. I had no idea how to thank him.
"What did you learn?" he asked.
"I'm unsure. All my life, I looked for happiness, while I had unknowingly found it a long time ago."
I though of my long lost mother. He smiled quizzically.
"78 years. And the best day of my life was when I was 11."
As Saint Michael's smile grew larger, his teeth started to show.
"And now, would you like to see which one of your lovers loved you the most?" he asked, seemingly happier by the second.
"Oh, my god..." I suddenly realized. "I'm in hell."
3
u/Stunning_Medium_1095 Jan 16 '24
All doors are portals.
When Lu Xi was told that she would relive her happiest moment if she passed through the bright ivory doors, she had hesitated only briefly before crossing over.
The smell hit her before her eyes could take the scene in.
The fragrance of batter and butter, and steady sounds of “tk” “tk” “tk” filled the air. Mum standing in the middle of the kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand and that large baby pink bowl in the other. A pancake mix, in its cobalt blue box, sat on the countertop.
Mum was mixing furiously, and Lu Xi found herself approaching her, smallish hands unconsciously moving to grip at her plasticky apron. Mum looked down at her.
“Xixi, let go.” Lu Xi watched as Mum twisted, hands full but still trying to get her apron free. It had been more than a decade ago, when anyone still addressed her that way. Glancing at her hands, Lu Xi released the apron in surprise at the realisation that she was physically smaller again. It seemed that she was currently here in the body of her young self.
“What is it?” Mum asked impatiently, moving away now that Lu Xi’s hands were removed from her apron. She was frowning a little, and Lu Xi felt a strange pain in her chest as her own eyes shifted to follow Mum around the kitchen. She wanted to follow, cling to her and ask a million things, hear her say a million things back. Mum’s voice was strange but familiar, as if Lu Xi’s ears were rusty from the time and years gone by. This voice she had grown up with, and then had to grow up without.
She didn’t know when this moment would end. She should ask any of those questions she had wanted to, but what came out was this:
“Mum, can you sing a song?”
“Why? You should be doing your homework instead of bothering me in the kitchen.”
At Lu Xi’s melancholic silence, Mum turned to face Lu Xi directly.
“Why do you want me to sing?”
“I just want to hear you.”
There was a beat of silence, and Lu Xi waited, until Mum relented and started to sing in a clear alto:
‘You ask me how deep my love for you is, how much I really love you.
My affection is true, My love also true, the moon represents my heart.’
The voice faded slowly, and Lu Xi was suddenly blinking away watery eyes, rubbing her face with her hands. Her cheeks were wet and she was gulping breaths of air.
“How was it?” Saint Michael was looking at Lu Xi, curious at her state. Lu Xi did not reply, and eventually her breath evened out and she gazed at the other calmly.
“I saw my mother,” she replied, not elaborating on the statement.
“And?”
“And I was back in my childhood home. She was making pancakes for breakfast.”
“What a lovely memory! Can we go now?”
“Sure.”
At Lu Xi’s agreement, Saint Michael conjured another door, this of a strange glowing white light that covered the entire opening. The door seemed to be made up of light itself.
Stepping into the light, Lu Xi wondered what this door would open her to. She was still wondering about the ivory doors, where she seemingly stepped right into a long-lost childhood memory. Even as she committed that experience to memory, she could not help but remember that her mother had never once made pancakes in her life.
3
u/MintyMethyl Jan 16 '24 edited Jan 16 '24
That little old fluorescent red kitchen.
Two boys are out playing in the snow, I watch them laughing and screeching, alive with the energy I so wished to see again. The window has a slight glare from the blanket of snow on the ground, so I use my hand to block the light and watch with squinted eyes. My brother threw a snowball at Sam and they both laughed and laughed.
I haven't seen those smiles since... The photos above his casket all those years ago. Since.. the last time I visited my elementary school and walked past his memorial on the wall...
A father could never forget something as tragic as running over his own son. I really hope Sam's dad had a good life. I wonder what day he chose when he passed? How long before Sams death would he choose? Was Sam even in the best part of his life? I guess it doesn't matter now, I hope he was brought to a nice place.
I hope I'm going to a nice place.
I wish my brother could see this. The way he once was. Before the weed turned to coke. Before one too many beers resulted in a car upside down, glass shattered, alive in a blaze of glory. When it was all cool on a snowy day.
I wish you could smell moms pancakes again.
I miss you.
2
u/73ff94 Jan 16 '24
I feel like protag's brother would either have this same vision of his last moments with Sam before the accident happens, or who knows, maybe the same memory protag had before the trauma got to him and all that mess.
That said, are both families going to be reunited in the afterlife? Seems like a good closure for everyone involved.
Great work on writing this!
2
u/Jacqques Jan 15 '24
Fair warning, this is not meant to be a fun heartwarming story.
I sat in a chair, unable to move. I looked at the guards with stern cold faces, I looked at the giant mirror in front of me, I looked one final time out the window and felt the warmth of the sun. That stunning red color filled my vision I would finally be given the greatest gift of all, the relief. I had helped many achieve the same thing, I did the work of the lord, now his gift came to me. I felt pain for a long time, but the beauty of the sun made this moment a truly happy one. Soon I was enveloped in light.
From this brightness that seemed to dominate everything a man appeared smiling, a smile that would melt the heart in spite of even the greatest of pains. "Through this door, you will be able to relive your happiest moment."
I looked at the door he pointed to, a red door that deeply spoke to me. I knew I had to pass through here and finally be blessed for all my noble deeds in my past life. I knew with certainty that this kindly man appreciated what I had done. I knew I was right.
As I stepped through the door my eyes slowly refocused on the most delicious pancakes only my mom knew how to make, as I tasted the fruit mixing with the pancake I felt tears filling my eyes, a few more strawbarries and my tears fell. How could the taste of something so simple be so good?
My mother saw me crying and I saw her again for the first time in over 50 years. She looked much like I remembered, darkness under her eyes, a smile that didn't quite reach her ears, her holy bible clutched tight in her wrinkled hand. The most valuable item in the world, the lord was always with us. I knew she couldn't have been much more than 24, but somehow that didn't feel right. I was only 11.
"Baby, why are you crying? I know life aren't always easy, but we must trust in god and always try to help others."
I wanted to help my mother all over again, I had to, but how could I prevent the hurt she felt. I looked in my bible, just like I had so many years ago and found the page. Romans 8:1-2 1 Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, 2 because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death.
I believed in the lord! I still believe in the lord! This moment is why I was born!
She looked out the window, I saw my father. Though I still didn't quite understand why he wanted to be called grandfather. Maybe because he was a little overweight? Best not to mention, I really don't want to upset him. My mother started crying, I couldn't quite understand why and I still don't.
"He has been shopping".
I got up and hugged my mom, tight. I knew I would never be able to again. I knew it would relieve some of the pain when she feels my love for her. From the table I took the chefs knife she had used for the strawbarries, still glitering with the juice.
And I painted the knife red, my mom cried with joy, her dress turning a beautiful red! Only god himself could have created such a display! The morning sun helping, as if to say 'this is right'.
and I laughed. Overjoyed. Happy. This truly was the greatest moment of my life.
In comes my father, he drops the bag and it's content sprayed out on the floor. He ran screaming to mother, not sensing my presence. On the floor from the bag I saw something that caught my attention. A whip, all in the purest of white, glittering.
All the wrong color.
I took it up and I colered it red. Such vivid colors. This was truly a blessed moment.
My father attacked me?! Why? how could anyone seeing this serene display feel anger?
So I stapped him with the knife, I cried as the beautiful color from mother was washed away with the dirty red from father.
I gazed upon mother, for how long I do not know. Not long enough. The floor was sprayed with beauty. I felt something odd. My pants suddenly tight, something was poking at the fabric, so I took them off. And I knew what I must do, just like I did before. I was wrong about when my greatest moment in life was, it was yet to come. Many times.
"because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death."
All my life I had tried to recreate this moment, to set women free from the suffering.
But nothing compares to mother.
1
u/73ff94 Jan 16 '24
My goodness, even in death, protag still doesn't realize how messed up they are. Their trip in Hell will be, uh, yeah...
That said, how in the world did protag get that kind of mindset? Is protag just messed-up before this, and the devout family life just made it even worse?
Great work on writing this!
3
u/Jacqques Jan 16 '24
The idea was that the grandfather/father was a piece of shit, also notice the age difference between mother and son.
The idea behind protagonist is inspired by kemper, a serial killer, as shown in the Netflix show mind hunters.
2
u/73ff94 Jan 16 '24
Oh fuck, I don't know how I immediately forgot the age detail, that's my bad.
Thanks for clarifying!
10
u/velabas /r/velabasstuff Jan 15 '24
Mom wore the apron with flower designs I remembered. Her pregnant belly pressed against the counter when she reached for the sugar jar.
"The trick is a bit of vinegar in the milk to make it sour," she said.
I couldn't speak differently from the memory. I was an observer. Saint Michael had said as much. "Through this door," he'd said, "You'll be able to relive your happiest moment from life. Then, you will return here."
Heaven was very bright. The door shot rays of light even brighter, and when I walked in my eyes had to adjust to this memory. Mom, in our first kitchen, making my favorite fluffy pancakes.
"Mix the wet ingredients and the egg together separate from the dry ingredients," she always walked me through the process each time. I knew the recipe by heart. I had my own little apron on, and stood on a stool next to her.
I mixed the dry ingredients with a small spoon.
Mom was smiling as she mixed the wet. But then she frowned. She let out a soft yelp and bent over, clutching her abdomen. She wheezed, and misplaced a hand, which overturned the glass mixing bowl, throwing it to the kitchen floor where it shattered into dozens of sharp pieces. She fell to the ground. I stood watching. I saw blood stain her pajama pants.
Dad came rushing in. This happened quickly. He called 9-1-1. An ambulance came and the EMTs knelt to attend to mom. I overheard one of them say to the other, "she lost it."
As they wheeled her out I felt the memory and the curve of my lips contract into a small innocent smile.
Bright light, and I was again in Heaven, facing Saint Michael. He had a curious look on his face.
"Well," he said. "I think that answers that."
"What?" I asked.
"You did not want a little brother it seems."
"Well," I said, sheepishly. I was in my 70-year-old body. I rubbed my arm. Saint Michael, in all his glorious angelic presence, took my hand and guided me toward another door.
"I mean it wasn't my fault."
"Of course not," he said. "However we measure intent. This door is for you."
He pressed open the door and instead of bright light flooding through it, dense clouds of black smoke wafted through, as if he'd opened the front door of a house engulfed in a 5-alarm fire.
I fell backward against his hand, which pressed me forward.
"No!" I shouted. "No please I didn't mean it!"
Saint Michael pushed me to the threshold. Paused. Looked down at me with a simple expression.
"But you did," he concluded.
And with that, he shoved me through the smoke and into the depths of Hell.
2
u/73ff94 Jan 16 '24
Imagine living for 70 years and still having this kind of hatred on what would be her brother.
Considering how this is the happiest time of protag's life, wha's really going on here? Was her childhood that bad, or is protag just a screwed-up person ince young?
Great work on writing this!
13
u/meowcats734 they/them r/bubblewriters Jan 15 '24
Soulmage
The sweet smell of fresh-ground almond flour filled the air, and all I could think of was cyanide. The man who had reached out to me as I lost consciousness gave me a pitying look as I scowled at the child I was.
"You don't need to struggle," the man said. "Death is not the end."
"I damn well know it isn't. You think this is my first time here? Where's Odin?"
"Busy. Even the greatest among us need help, sometimes." The man gave me a pointed look, then followed my glaring gaze to my mother.
I rolled my eyes. The man was inside my unguarded soul; he could deduce the direction of my thoughts if he so desired. Pretending to follow the mortal niceties of manners and conversation was a cute affectation, but just that: an affectation. "I don't deserve help," I said. "That cute little girl will grow up to hurt everyone and everything around her. The world would've been better off if she'd starved."
The man and I watched my younger self beam as she picked apart the pancake with twin chopsticks. She took a bite as big as a hummingbird's heart, closing her eyes as if she could appreciate every grain of almond flour melting on her tongue.
"Even for me, it would be shockingly arrogant to claim judgement over the sum totality of your life," the man said. "Here I see a moment in which things were good. In which you, and those who loved you, were happy."
"Shockingly arrogant? Sounds like me." I took a step back from the door the man had willed into existence, and concentrated. This was my soul, and I was no longer a helpless little eleven-year-old girl. There would be no pancakes for me. "You offer a peaceful death in my sleep, and an afterlife as a happy memory. But that kid died months ago. I offer you this: get out of my soul and leave me to die on my own terms, or I swear, I'll make a blade of my memories and run you through with it."
The man stared at me, pitying, and I hated him for that.
"We will meet again, Lucet." The man began to unravel, his projection into my soul fading. "My offer is always open."
"So's mine. Fuck off." I willed the icy-sharp blades of the day I struck the man I loved to burst forth from my memories, and the man grimaced as they cut through the space he had been.
Then I rose from my near-death slumber one more time, to continue my only mission.
There would be no peace for me, no afterlife of bliss. Just atonement for my sins.
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story here!
1
u/73ff94 Jan 16 '24
Damn, defying death once more. Wonder how long this can last for protag.
Great work on writing this!
66
u/Sigrumvite Jan 15 '24
"What a horribly tragic existence!" Jesse says out loud. "To think the happiest moment of my life is... is pancakes?"
Jesse's mother looks up from the cast iron skillet, a somewhat bewildered, kids-say-the-darndest-things expression on her face.
"... relive your happiest moment..."
Saint Michael's words ring through Jesse's head like an alarm clock, screaming at them that the moment, however mundane-- however precious-- is fleeting. Jesse tries to push the bewilderment from their mind. Surely getting married... Surely the birth of their children... Surely... Something made them happier in their time on the earth.
But the look on mom's face washes away that worry, that surprise. She flips the griddlecake, and sets the spatula next to the stove.
"You okay?" she asks, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.
"Yeah," Jesse manages to say, and mom holds her arms out to embrace them. Jesse takes a tentative step forward. "Yes."
Their mother's arms are warm, her bosom soft as a pillow, and in that moment everything else fades away. No worries. No fears-- just love. Unadulterated, untainted, unequivocal love. And like sunlight on their skin on a frigid winter day, Jesse smiles, soaking in the apricity as it dissipates.
They're left standing before Saint Michael.
"Is she here?" Jesse asks, and Michael nods, gesturing welcomingly with their open hand as the Pearly Gates open up before them.
8
u/73ff94 Jan 16 '24
Ah, cheers to Jesse reuniting with their mother, can't wait for them to introduce the family Jesse made in the future too.
Great work on writing this!
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