If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?

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Childhood Home

A fairly normal-looking living room plucked straight out of the 1970's. The TV's on and the floor littered with Star Trek coloring books, Legos, matchbox cars, and a jumbled Rubix Cube crammed into the seam of the couch. It's half-hidden by a hideous obviously handmade pillow.

(Where He grew up, so normal and small. His 700th childhood, He now recognizes.
But oh, it was beautiful.)

Chuck's House

What a messy kitchen would look like if it was invaded by a messy office. Dishes, papers, empty glasses and beer bottles everywhere, a desktop computer living on the dining room table and a printer on the butcher's block. The computer is on and there's an open word document on the screen; anyone with sharp enough eyes could see that it's just finished writing about something called the Elysian.

(A messy place for a messy mind, cluttered and overflowing with centuries and phone bills.
That day, Gabriel died. Note the near-empty handle of vodka,
just bought yesterday.)

Carthage, Missouri

An apparently nondescript cemetery. All that's notable is that every single grave, every tombstone and memorial and statue, appears to be incredibly, ridiculously old, with the names are worn off of every tombstone. If you look closely, the large hill in the middle of the cemetery seems loose somehow, almost... like a massive, massive mound over which the graveyard dirt has yet to properly settle.

(The door to Death's cage and a place to speak through. That first day out of Heaven, even
the Almighty needed someone to talk to. He's gone a dozen times since.
He misses His other half sometimes.)

The Garden/Grandma's House

A glimpse of the serene little backyard of an unexciting little house, an oasis of green and pink roses with a pond and a swing. A glimpse long enough to take in some good detail, to see the air of serenity and safety the place has. Until you move the snowglobe even a little, even a tiny bit, and-

This is the part that hurts. The snowglobe will change and everything will glow too brightly, the light searing your eyes in a way that's almost sweet and more than a little maddening. It feels like going insane or finding religion, and the snowglobe will be too hot to be comfortable and the light so,
so painful to look at. If you can tough it out you'll be able to see the little garden for longer. Just maybe.

Good luck holding on, though, and good luck staring into it without damaging your eyes.

(The warm, Holy center of Heaven. Where Joshua, the only angel He still speaks to, tends.
Every human sees it as somewhere from their life. This is his grandma's garden.
Once, He saw it as the angels do. As it really is. As home.
This is what going native looks like.)

Throne Room of Heaven

If you can get past the blinding, agonizing light and sound of before, and you're still holding onto the snowglobe, then you'll see the light die down abruptly, the flare go out jarringly fast onto something else.

A hall, vast and lonely, like it once held something much greater. High and colorless, impossible scaffolding and walls arcing up to the top of the snowglobe. It's cold. So cold, so beautiful, but empty and strangely tragic. Forbidding and awesome. You can practically smell the dust collecting.

(No. No. Never again.)

A throne- the most beautiful golden throne at the end of the hall, on the tallest dais with the most steps you've ever seen, a vast golden chair that seems impossible, flanked with columns and topped with a canopy that all speaks to unparalleled beauty. All the shadows in the room fall to the left side of that throne, on the golden horn abandoned on the floor and next to it, a disfiguring, ugly burn mark in the floor.

The vast chair is empty. The whole scene is depressing. Like a mausoleum.

(Like a cage.)

(Power, glory, worship and might. It still calls to Him sometimes.

He lets it go to voicemail.)


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