STairway to Heaven and hell

As I stood at the crossroads of eternity, I beheld a vision of two stairways that pierced the fabric of the universe. The first, a shimmering golden staircase, ascended into the radiant light of Heaven. The air around it vibrated with an otherworldly music, as if the very essence of joy and peace had been distilled into its being. With each step, the golden stairs seemed to hum a gentle melody, inviting the weary souls to climb towards the promise of eternal bliss.

Light angels, resplendent in their luminous robes, descended the stairs to guide the souls of the departed. Their faces shone with compassion and kindness, their eyes burning with a deep understanding of the journey that lay ahead. As they led the souls upward, the angels sang in harmony, their voices like the gentle lapping of celestial waves against the shores of the soul. The music swelled, and the stairs began to glow with an intense, pulsing light, as if the very essence of Heaven was pouring itself into the hearts of the ascending souls.

In stark contrast, the second stairway plunged downward into the depths of darkness, its twisted, broken steps seeming to writhe and twist like a living thing. The air around it reeked of malevolence, heavy with the stench of decay and corruption. Demonic figures, their twisted forms like dark, macabre parodies of the angels, lurked in the shadows, their eyes glowing with an unholy hunger. With cruel glee, they herded the dark souls down the stairs, lashing them with chains of fire and brimstone.

As the souls descended, the demons laughed and jeered, their voices like the crackling of flames and the shattering of glass. The stairs themselves seemed to shudder and convulse, as if they were alive and feeding on the fear and despair of the damned. The darkness deepened, until it seemed to have a palpable, crushing weight, like a physical presence that pressed upon the soul. And at the bottom of the stairs, a yawning abyss waited, a fire hole that belched and roared like a living furnace, eager to consume the souls that were cast into its depths.

As I watched, a soul climbed the golden stairs, its heart filled with hope and longing. The angels welcomed it with open arms, their faces alight with joy, and the gates of Heaven swung open to receive it. The soul’s eyes shone with wonder as it beheld the beauty of the heavenly realm, and the angels cheered, their voices like a chorus of trumpets, as the soul entered the presence of the Divine.

In contrast, a dark soul stumbled down the broken stairs, its heart heavy with guilt and shame. The demons closed in, their whips cracking with malevolent glee, and the soul screamed as it was dragged, helpless and terrified, into the fire hole of hell. The demons laughed and capered, their forms dissolving into the darkness, as the soul was consumed by the very flames that had driven it downward.

As I stood at the crossroads, I felt the weight of choice, the burden of decision that lay before every soul. The golden stairs and the dark stairs stood before me, each one a symbol of the path that lay ahead. And I knew that the choice was not just a simple one of good or evil, but a choice between light and darkness, between hope and despair, between the music of the angels and the screams of the damned. The vision faded, leaving me with a sense of awe and wonder, and the haunting question: which stairway would I choose?