TODAY, WE WELCOME OUR GUEST AUTHOR, DAWN COLCLASURE, WHO IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 8 OF HER NOVEL, 'I'LL BE GHOSTING YOU' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
- Eva Bielby
- 6 days ago
- 7 min read
I'LL BE GHOSTING YOU
Excerpt from Chapter Eight
Warren remained silent as he followed behind Floyd. They walked across the main room where there were people and, presumably, angels walking about, talking or likewise remaining silent. Soon they came to a closed door, and Floyd placed his thumb on a scanner next to it. The door opened and they walked into another room that contained a line of shelves on either side. They reached the end, where a giant wall of gold met their eyes, and Warren followed Floyd as he turned right. They walked past one of the shelves, and Warren looked to see that there were books stacked neatly on them. Each book appeared to be the same. The books had names on the spines and were very thick.
“What kind of books are these?” he asked.
“The Book of Life.”
Warren looked at Floyd. “I thought that was just one book?”
“There are many books of life, but they all contain information relevant to someone’s life.”
“Someone like who?”
“Everyone. Every living thing.”
Warren nodded. “What do they say?”
“Relevant information.”
Warren frowned. “Gotcha.” He looked at the books again. “Who is allowed to read them?”
“Usually God.”
“God reads these books?”
Floyd shrugged. “Only when the time calls for it.”
“But what about angels? Do they need to read any of these books?”
“We don’t need to. We have technology.”
“But God doesn’t?”
“God prefers books.”
They came to a stop in front of a large elevator. Floyd pressed the button to go up.
“What’s downstairs?” Warren asked.
“Downstairs.”
Warren grimaced as he looked at Floyd. He was not yet used to the evasive way this “guide” of his was answering his questions. “Thanks.”
The door opened and they stepped into the elevator. They stood at each other’s sides as they patiently waited for the doors to close. Warren noticed that Floyd didn’t press a number to indicate what floor to go to. In fact, when he studied the wall where a number panel should be, he noted that there wasn’t one.
After the metallic door slid shut, mood music played as they slowly ascended. Warren tried to look for a digital reading of what floor they were going to, but there wasn’t one.
“How do you know we’re going to the right floor?” he asked.
Floyd smiled. “Faith.”
The elevator stopped and the door slid open. They stepped out and Warren noted they were in a busy room filled with people wearing business suits, muttering as they shuffled through papers as they busily walked past them, as well as other people of various ages and wearing various style of clothing. He could only guess that the people in the suits were what were “lawyers” on Earth and that the other people were angels recently deceased who, like him, were on trial.
That thought coming to mind, Warren turned to look at Floyd. “I don’t understand. Why am I on trial? What did I do?”
Floyd remained silent as he scanned the many large oak doors along the golden wall in front of them. Each door had a number on it, starting from “1” and ending at “5.” Spread in between the doors were short areas of wall, each with an oak bench which various people sat on.
A man wearing a business suit alighted from one of the benches and walked over to them. “Floyd! There you are,” he greeted.
Warren studied this man. Like him, he wore a suit, though his was black. He also had black hair like Warren, but instead of curly hair, he had a clean crew cut. He wore a gold watch on his left wrist, and Warren noted the pin that had an American flag on it on the left breast pocket.
The man shook Floyd’s hand when he came to a stop in front of them. Then he smiled at Warren. “You must be Warren.”
Warren looked between Floyd and this stranger. “Let me guess. You’re my lawyer.”
The man nodded as he extended his hand to shake. “Correct. I’ll make sure you get a fair trial and answer any questions you may have.”
Warren’s eyes widened. “I have tons of questions! Like, why am I on trial?”
“This is the part where I take my leave,” Floyd interrupted. He turned to walk off.
Warren watched Floyd go, observing him enter the elevator, then he looked at this stranger again. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Cornelius,” he answered. Warren realized he still had his hand out to shake. Sighing, he shook the man’s hand. “And as for your question, it appears that you committed a crime during your visit to Earth.”
“A crime?” Warren asked, his eyes widening in alarm again.
Well, technically, according to the laws of Earth, he had committed several crimes. Trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of property, theft.
But was he going to be punished for all that?
“Look, I’m sorry about the china,” he began. “And the wall. And the TV. And—”
Cornelius held up his hands, shaking his head. “Let’s sit down.”
They walked over to the bench which Cornelius had been sitting on. His black briefcase was still there. After they sat down, Cornelius looked at him.
“It’s not the little things,” he began to explain. “Your crime is about something much larger in the grand scheme of things. You sort of interfered with God’s plan.”
Warren studied him. “I don’t understand.”
“God had a plan for two people on Earth,” he said. “Things were supposed to happen a certain way. But when you tore up the picture you found, it brought a third party into play sooner than she was supposed to come in.”
“A third party?” Warren asked. He searched his memory then sighed. “Oh, you mean Chelsea.”
Cornelius nodded. “Yes. She was not supposed to find out about the affair yet. She would be able to handle it better when she was supposed to find out about it, but at this time, she is too fragile and insecure. And, well . . .” Cornelius’ voice trailed off as he looked away.
Warren looked closely at him, waiting. When Cornelius didn’t say anything else, he motioned for him to continue. “Well, what?”
Cornelius looked at him again. “She commits suicide.”
Warren’s eyes widened in shock. “No!”
Cornelius nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
Warren. “Oh, my God! Oh, excuse me,” he muttered, holding his hand out to Cornelius. “I didn’t know! I didn’t think! No! Poor Chelsea!”
Cornelius jumped to his feet, as though he had expected this kind of emotional outburst. “Warren, calm down. It’s okay.”
“I can’t calm down!” Warren cried, shaking his head at Cornelius. “It’s my fault Chelsea’s going to die! I’ll have her blood on my hands! And it’s all my fault.”
He put his head into his hands and cried. He felt an arm on his back and looked up to see Cornelius awkwardly trying to comfort him.
“Warren,” he whispered, standing right next to him. “Remember where you are. Remember what they can do.”
Warren looked at him with confusion at first, but then his face lit up as he realized what his lawyer meant. “You’re right. I’m in Heaven! Or, Headquarters. But, still! God can send me back! I can fix this!”
Cornelius nodded. “Yes. That is your case. You must ask for permission to go back to Earth so you can repair the damage and save your friend. In fact—” he looked at his watch. “It’s time to go in now. So, wipe away those tears, and let’s go.”
Warren did as he was told, using his arm and hands to wipe the tears from his eyes and cheeks. He sniffled to clear his nose and shook his head, trying to erase any sign that he had been crying.
Then, standing next to his lawyer after he had retrieved his briefcase from the bench, he walked through the large oak doors with the number “3” on them.
The room they stepped into appeared to be a typical courtroom. They walked along the aisle that had oak benches on either side of them. They walked through a swinging lower wooden gate then into the area where they would plead their case. There were two overstuffed chairs for them to sit in that faced a large podium where two figures sat in judgment.
Warren sat in one of the chairs, noting the table in front of them. Cornelius placed his briefcase onto the table and got busy opening it and sorting through papers he kept inside.
Warren used this time to examine the “judges” seated at the large podium. There were two of them: one man and one woman. They each glowed with light, as if they were angelic.
Warren looked at each one and nearly did a double take. The judges both looked similar to Supreme Court justices he knew of on Earth. In fact, the red-haired female judge looked a lot like Joan Gilbert and the blonde-haired male judge looked a lot like Gregory Sorenson.
“No way,” he whispered in surprise, staring at them.
“Problem?” Cornelius asked.
Warren looked at him. “Those judges. They were judges when they were on Earth. They were Supreme Court justices. And now they’re judges here at Headquarters?”
Cornelius smiled at him. “All part of God’s plan.”
“But aren’t they supposed to get some rest? Because they worked for so long on Earth. Isn’t that how it is?”
Cornelius rested his hand on Warren’s shoulder. “They were passionate about their work. They brought that passion with them into the afterlife. They asked for permission to continue presiding over court cases and it was granted to them.”
“For eternity?”
“For as long as they’d like.”
“Order! Court comes to order!” Judge Gilbert announced, banging her gavel.
Warren and Cornelius turned to give the judges their attention.
“We will now hear the case of Warren Beauchamp,” Judge Sorenson announced, reading from a paper in front of him. “Found guilty of interfering with God’s plan and thereby resulting in the untimely death of one Chelsea Donovan.”
“Warren Beauchamp,” Judge Gilbert said, looking at him. “Do you confirm or deny that you willingly tore up a picture of your wife in the Donovans’ bedroom?”
Warren nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. I did.”
“And do you confirm or deny it was your intention to hurt the Donovans by committing this act?” Judge Sorenson asked.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt them,” he answered. “I was angry. I mean, that was my wife.”
“She was your wife,” Cornelius whispered in his ear. “Remember, you’d been dead for three years.”
“But I didn’t know that!” Warren cried, looking at Cornelius.
“Please answer the question,” Judge Sorenson reminded, bringing Warren to look at him again. “Do you confirm or deny you were trying to hurt them?”
“I deny it, Your Honor,” Warren answered.
“Warren Beauchamp, you were granted permission to return to Earth to say goodbye to your wife,” Judge Gilbert said. “Your placement in Heaven was in error. How did you get in?”
Warren struggled for the right words. “I don’t—you mean, it was an accident? I wasn’t supposed to be in Heaven?”
“You failed to accomplish your mission on Earth,” Judge Sorenson explained. “Therefore, the protocol states that you must be sent to another destination with a new mission.”
**********
COMING SOON: On Friday, 19th September, our team member, author Eva Bielby will be sharing Chapter 17 from 'The Healing' - second book in 'The Hurt' trilogy.
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