On a cold November night, a tall muscular body was lying on the pavement of the London’s Spitalfields neighborhood. The scent of iron was mixing with the body’s natural cinnamon scent, and while the broad shoulders and well-toned legs of the victim managed to keep the body mostly intact, the precious cargo of freshly made baby mozzarella was tragically destroyed in the crash. For the onlookers, it looked as if the victim was sleeping, unwilling to move due to the loss they had sustained, or just shock.
For those around him, Tav’s life looked like a dream. He was the son of a Mongolian mining tycoon, a member of London’s social elite, inhabiting a luxury townhouse in Kingsbridge and spending his days attending the most exclusive parties. His tall stature, golden skin, and perfectly styled hair were the envy of many, and a lustful desire of even more.
But for Tav, his life was a prison. He was the fifth son of his father with an unknown concubine that he was never allowed to meet. Within his family, his lack of importance started with his name, being called simply “Number Five”. And, while his remarkable looks have allowed him to survive in spite of familial neglect, he abhorred the notoriety and surface-level relationships that the same face had thrust upon him. He was never interested in either modeling, socializing, or aiming for any position in his estranged father’s empire. Rather, his first and only true love was cheese – ironically the thing that was instrumental in his demise.
Barely inching towards his thirties, Tav finally had some recognition, stability, and free time to dwell deeper into his passion. An entire floor of his house was dedicated solely to producing cheese of any variety he could think of, and for the first time in his life, a girl was not interested in groping his muscular body or similarly sized other parts, but rather in what was his passion. He was on the way to bring this new acquaintance some baby mozzarella and maybe they would discuss the process of making it even more.
In retrospect, he realized it was all a ploy once he died. His eldest sister, Neg, was the heir apparent and did not want any of the other spawns to endanger her inheritance. He knew that for a while but believed that moving across the globe and clearly rejecting everything his family had to offer was a clear enough show that he wanted nothing to do with it. The girl, the time, and even the truck that ended Tav’s life were all part of the ploy to remove any chance that he might change his mind at some point, while everything still looked like an accident.
He wasn’t sad about his passing, but he was deeply troubled about the ability to observe his expired body from a third-person perspective. He was never religious, or spiritual, or had any interest in the occult. Additionally, he didn’t feel like a ghost, but rather as if he is in virtual reality, observing a separate world.
Slowly, a glowing portal opened in the sky above him and started pulling him in. He hoped that his good deeds would end his cycle of reincarnation and bring him Nirvana. He could reason that the lack of any good deeds would reincarnate him into a pigeon or something. What he could never imagine was Christian heaven!?
He presumed that there would be cheese in heaven. Is there yeast in heaven? Does Jesus prefer cheddar like a proper English lad, or would he be historically accurate and prefer tzfatit? Do girls who go to heaven like cheese?
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
He guessed he would find out.
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“I have been expecting you, my dear!”
A chiseled face with skin as if of pure alabaster appeared mysteriously in front of Tav’s face. This man was tall, almost a head taller than Tav himself, and while Tav considered himself to be clearly heterosexual, the ethereal beauty of the man in front of him gave him pause. The smoldering look on the other man started to fade and twist into a grimace. As he stepped away he couldn’t but notice a perfectly sculpted body with a rose tattoo that twisted around the entire form.
“What the shite!? You ain’t a teenage girl! You… you are… some guy!”
Tav started collecting himself. There was a metallic wall on one side of what seemed to be a throne room of some sort. He noticed that his hair was loose but that he looked like himself. He also noticed that he was completely naked, surpassing the immodesty of his host who was bare-chested, only wearing a pair of tight trousers. After spending his few former moments looking at his murdered body his ability to be in shock has subsided a bit. This may be heaven and this may be an angel by the looks of it, but it is also a very rude half-naked man.
“Yes” answered Tav, “I am just a guy. And if you don’t mind I would prefer something to obfuscate my manhood if at all possible”.
The angel-like man was just staring at him, after which he grunted and started walking towards a luxurious throne.
“This shouldn’t happen. The spell was specifically to summon a mortal teenage girl from a non-magical plane! Damn witch, I know she has something to do with this, she made it so that I wouldn’t have an easy time!” Tav noticed slightly pointed ears on the sides of the angel, who had not picked up a large tome and started listing it over.
“Hey, not to bother you pondering on your spellcasting, but might you be an elf?” Tav decided to be straightforward. Even if this apparently powerful creature decided to kill him, he already had one mortal scare today and that was plenty enough.
“An elf? AN ELF!?!?”
“I am Aaranduil, the first of the Archfey, Dominator of the Seven Courts, Protector of the Shadow! I have powers akin to a god and all of the flesh to enjoy it with!” he started to snicker, slightly running his otherwise perfect face “Elves work for Santa!”
Tav reiterated the obvious: “Well, if you are not St. Peter, and obviously not a Buddha, then why am I here?”
“You! You should not be here! You should have been a teenage moral girl that I need to make her fall in love with me and give me the gift of a true love’s kiss.” His voice started becoming more melodramatic. “A true love’s kiss is the only thing that can return my innate magic and bring peace back to the realm!”
He turned in a much more casual tone: “You know, regular curse shit. It’s that demonic bitch, she stole my power! I couldn’t believe it would be this hard to find a mortal girl to fall in love with me!”
Tav was still sitting completely naked on the stone floor, being entertained for the first time since he could remember. His situation was anything but simple, but at least this self-admitting failed child molester was honest. Maybe he shouldn’t be this honest in case authorities find out, but are there even authorities here?
He continued questioning: “Aaranduil, Sir, and this demon, does she have god-like powers similar to yours?”
“Please call me Aaran.” The Archfay casually demanded. “Samantha? No. Well now she does, but she is an English teacher from your dimension. Somehow she found my true name and now gets a kick from forcing me to do all kinds of weird tasks.”
He crouched above Tav and leaned forward: “Between you and me bro, I’m pretty sure she gets some kind of twisted sexual pleasure from this…”