The Last Judgment
The Second Coming
Dedicated to the best of friends.
I awoke, cold and naked, to the sound of trumpets and men screaming. What, I wondered, could be the cause of this stir and fuss?
I realized I had been lifted from the ground where I lay, a man-sized hole behind me. I had visions of my beloved holding my hand, for last I was aware, I was in my bedchamber with my family around. I had been sick for some time, and they had come to ease my passing, but…
Here I stood, out in the open in a seemingly strange place, wearing nought but what I was born with and, somehow, unafflicted by the illness that once gripped me. If I was dead or alive, I could not tell, but the ground began to shake, and I beheld other men and women, rising from the cold earth as bewitched and bewildered as I—all of us naked, stripped of riches and titles alike.
Before I could begin to assess the situation that I was in, I noticed a man standing not ten feet from me, whom I had known since childhood. He had been murdered in a tavern, a tragic accident, they said, and all his relatives were distraught with sorrow. He had not been very liked by most of the townsfolk, but his wife and children swore by his kindness.
I had advanced a step towards him, the clouds still booming with the sound of battle horns, when suddenly a sight I wished never to have seen befell my very eyes. A demon on reptilian wings swooped down and took hold of the man! I fell to the ground in terror, shaking uncontrollably, watching helplessly while the man wiggled and squirmed beneath the grip of that smoke-stained vermin.
Just when I thought he would be lost to this fiend, an angel cloaked in blue garments—the color of the sky on a hot July day—appeared from the air like a flash of lightning. The angel's serene face betrayed not a drop of fear in the midst of this fanged monster, and during the struggle, it pierced the beast in the neck with a bronze sword—the hilt shaped like the cross.
I covered my eyes, hoping to block the horror out, but I could hear it scream and screech at the pangs of pain, each tone melded into the sound of trumpets, a cacophony, and melody alike.
Suddenly, I felt my feet lift from under me; I was floating, it seemed, and I had not yet had the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I saw an image before me, in living flesh, greater than any mortal man could dream…
The Christ himself, the Lamb of the World, sat upon a rainbow in the sky! I tried to close my eyes, to shut out the scene before, for it was too great for a mortal man, but I could not. I was transfixed upon the heavens, and a voice rang in my mind:
"I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” — Genesis 9:13
I was awed at Him, still flying through the sky from what I came to understand was my burial place, for I had never seen such majesty in all my life. He was robed in glory, and His feet, still bearing the scars of His crucifixion, rested upon a golden globe—the image of this world, His dominion.
The likeness of His disciples sat behind Him in heaven, and honored above all, were His mother and cousin, the Virgin Mary, and John the Baptizer, assembled before the saved and the damned alike to judge the world, on this, the final day.
I could not look away and wished I could cry to relieve this burden. To look upon the Lord! I was not worthy of such a blessing. Just then, angels appeared overhead and carried with them the Instruments of Passion: the column where Jesus was flagellated, the cross where He was crucified, His crown of thorns, and the Holy Lance driven into His side.
The ground below me came swiftly as I was deposited onto a metal platform, but I could not avert my glance from His face—the face of the Son of Man. He had a lily flower hanging from His right ear—I would later find out it pointed the path to paradise—and a sword floating at His right. I needed no explanation for the weapon He carried, for He is the ultimate judge of this world, and this day was His eschaton.
I blinked for but a moment, and, with little warning, another figure stood above me. Clad in golden armor, he shone like the sun itself. His red robe held a majesty second only to that of Christ, and his face was immovable with the rule of this world. I knew him as the Archangel Michael—he who stands at the right hand of God.
I knew my moment had come, the decision that would dictate my fate for all eternity. Eternity: it seemed a distant thing to a living man, but alas, I was not. Despite the tautness in my naked skin, I was laid bare on his weights and would be judged and sentenced this day.
And then I saw it… Just beyond heaven’s general… The portal to hell!
Tortured rocks cast aside and engulfed in vermillion flames—and the damned being thrown into the gaping pit! I could smell their flesh burning and hear their screams of torment. The agony in their faces as the heavenly order cast them aside, left as scraps for demons and monsters. And they were taken asunder, each one who was discarded.
Their demented faces and anguished bodies fought with each final push to escape—but none could, and none ever will. The monsters, deformed and hideous, tore at them with their hellish tools, tearing and prodding their flesh, trapping their souls into the pits of Hades, amassing the damned like the scythe collects its grain.
I tore my eyes from the horror. I could no longer look upon the accursed sight, for it burned my eyes with its baseness—such a vile image! I was lost in this moment, suspended in time, and thus, out of habit or perhaps tactic, I did the only reasonable thing I could… I pressed my hands together, and I prayed for mercy.
Just at this moment, Saint Michael lifted his divine scale, and I, atop this mighty instrument, knew this would be the moment of my doom… or my exaltation. My mind echoed with thoughts of what was said to Belshazzar in times of old:
“Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.” — Daniel 5:27
My breath ceased, and my blood ran cold. At that moment, all of time and eternity came to stand still, and I felt as though a thousand lives of men had passed atop the platform, waiting for the second to arrive. And finally, it came… My side of the scale began to fall!
The deeds of my past life, weighed and found hefty in spirit, were made bare before the King of heaven and all His court, and I, a humble man of humble origin, was deemed worthy to enter into the kingdom of our Lord. There is no feeling or sentiment to describe my joy, for I could have wept, but there are no tears for the saved.
I was carried aside and gently placed into a neat, orderly line on the archangel’s right. I could hear the sound of screaming behind me, and I knew the thrust of his great lance had found one who was light in spirit. A mark that would condemn him, for all time, to the pits of chaos.
My breath returned, and my cold chill, now warmed, gave hope to my spirit. I knew the madness of this day was near its end, and I prayed once again for the righteousness of my judge.
Suddenly, from the very ground I had arisen, stone steps began to form, and we walked two abreast, up and over the structure, which rose higher and higher into the sky. Then, at a juncture in the path, I saw him—a man I had hoped to meet all my life.
There he stood, his left hand clutching the keys to paradise itself, his right hand extended generously to each of us who walked by him—Saint Peter, the guardian of the gate, and I was to join him in a firm embrace in just a moment. Such happiness came over me that I cannot describe. It was as if each blissful moment in my life was added together in time and multiplied a thousandfold.
We shook hands, but neither of us spoke. His face was serious but tranquil, and I walked past him in a cloud of euphoria. Just beyond the great saint were angels who were dressing the saved. They clothed us in divine garments of royal hues, much like the garb that they themselves wore. I accepted this gift with grace and humility.
Then came the final approach: the gates of heaven stood before me, a solid piece of the finest stone in all the world, carved with the most intricate and wondrous images. Kings and sages, prophets and saints, all were honored within this marble tapestry. My eyes were carried upward, and I could see the image of Eve being birthed from the rib of the first man. I was left to marvel at the grand design of our Maker.
Higher still, upon the balconies and parapets of the magnificent wall, was a choir of angels. Some strung the harp or lute, and others sang hymns of joy. And we, the chosen, joined in and chanted tirelessly to the glory of God, our faces bright with elation, staring up at our welcomers, and with a heart as light as an angel's wing.
And there we were at last; within a few short steps, we would enter the kingdom of heaven—paradise! I took one last breath of air, not knowing what would await me behind these exclusive doors, and I strode out into the light, my head high, a worthy life left behind and eternal bliss a short distance ahead.
For context on what inspired this post, you can refer to my essay:
Hey, thanks for making a post on my suggestion. Was a really good story. Interesting perspective!