Post God-Fall

I crossed down-winding bridges, contorted in the shape of sad faces.  I squinted at distant signs and banners, all written in languages long dead.  The letters and shapes were impossibly complex.  Each was its own bold attempt to keep secrets from my King.  But my King learned the languages and naturally, he taught me. 

That’s how I found Tom.

He was hanging from a hook with his hands joined together in tortured meditation when my musical footsteps aroused him.

“Who--?” he tried to ask. 

“Boriel of the Highest House.  You are Tom, and you no longer belong here.”

That sent him headlong into a series of head-scratching, eye-blinking gyrations.  He dragged a fistful of brittle fingertips across his bare scalp and jumped down to worship me.

...

I jumped down to greet him and collapsed on my knees.  It had been many years since I last stood upright.

“You have been forgiven.  My King has attained fantastic new levels of mercy, unmatched by any existing entity.

“I fixed the broken elevator,” Boriel continued.  “Let’s take a trip home.”

We reached divine altitudes in just hours.  I expected a winged congregation to receive us.  I expected them to cheer for the first risen demon. 

Instead, the doors remained shut.  Boriel only stared at me, smiling for seven years while I tried to pry them open with my horns.

Then finally, he asked how I thought he got to Hell.  “You fell,” I answered.  “I get that.  But somebody should have rescued me by now.  I can feel Heaven beyond these walls.”

“Those doors will never open, because there’s nobody left up here to open them.”

“Then effectively, we’re still in Hell,” I said.

He nodded, smiled, and made a fist.  “I’m your new roommate.”
___

294 words.  Must include hook, trip, and cheer.