Chapter 1: A Good Day to Die

My time as a pit fighter started when I turned 65. It was a bit late for a career change, I know, but I didn't have a choice. Well, I didn't have much of a choice.

When the stranger ripped the knife out of my neck, the last bit of strength left my legs, and I collapsed to the floor. It was all I could do to keep my fingers curled around the broken beer bottle I had in my hand. With satisfaction, I watched my assailant fall to the ground next to me, a shard of glass in his jugular.

When he had touched my daughter that way, I had snapped a little bit. I hadn't drunk in nearly a decade, ever since my wife, Helen, had died. Now, my tolerances were shot, and things had gotten a little away from me. Honestly, I hadn't been to a bar for even longer. I wouldn't have even been here if I hadn't wanted to make a brief appearance for my daughter's birthday.

Now I could hear her screaming faintly, as if down a long hallway. The sirens outside stopped as the ambulance arrived. Even as my beautiful daughter knelt at my side, face contorted in grief, it all faded away.

As I lay there, I found myself excited to move on and join my wife. No matter where we went next. I hoped it was heaven.

My last thoughts were interrupted by an angel appearing before me. She was this heartbreakingly beautiful woman with long blond hair tied back in a braid. Ethereal light glinted off her armor and the sword at her side. The only thing missing was her halo.

She reached down, and I reached up and took her hand, and she pulled my soul away from my body and took me in her arms. Looking down at me, she spoke. The perfection of her voice registered before her words did. "Hello, my warrior. Hello, Miles. You have been chosen to feast in Valhalla among your fellow warriors. Will you accept?"

When I was able to process what she said, I blinked in shock. "Uh, do I have to? Can't I go to heaven instead?"

"I'm sorry that path is closed to you. But you do have a choice." She said this with a comforting tone that soothed all my worries away. I might not get to go to heaven, but at least I had a choice.

"Let's see… You can go to Valhalla or Hell." The Valkyrie said.

That was not much of a choice.

"I'll go to Valhalla," I told the Valkyrie. "Better than Hell, right?"

"Good choice, Miles." She said as she flapped her wings and carried me up into the sky.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"What's your name? I asked.

"You can call me Mary," she said in her perfect melodic voice. Earth was receding before my eyes, but we were not heading into space. A glowing light enveloped us, and I closed my eyes.

When the light went away we were flying over a mountain with a bonfire on its summit. The height of the peak was unbelievable. It must have been several times taller than Mount Everest. The whole way down was covered in buildings, halls, towers, and ships half buried in the mountain. The ones at the top were made of beautiful black glass; the further down, the lower the material quality. After the glass, it was a stunning marble, then granite.

People milled about all over, doing various things. But they were far enough away that I couldn't make out any details. They all looked like ants as we soared down the slopes of the mountain. At the base, I saw a feasting hall made of rough-cut timber. It was so long that I couldn't see the end as it curved around the mountain and out of sight.

At first, I thought she would set me down there and put me out in front of that building. It made sense. I was new, and I needed to start at the bottom. It was just like any office job; the intern fetches the coffee. That made sense to me.

But no, we soared over that building and kept going. Briefly, we flashed over a courtyard with feasting tables set up in a foot of snow, and I thought we would land there.

Still, we kept going, but she was slowing down. We flew over a wall with spear points on the top, interspersed with wrought iron gates.

Once we were over the wall, Mary set me down in a snowbank outside of a gate. Looking through the gate into the courtyard, I saw people feasting at a table, drinking while shivering. Beyond them was the hall. I could hear laughter and light spilling out from the rough cut timber.

"Good luck," Mary said as she waved to me before disappearing.

"Good luck?" I echoed. What did she mean?

Suddenly, the scene changed. A spear was in my hands, and I was standing in a pit of sand with nothing but blackness all around me.

I looked down at my spear and saw my unwrinkled hands. Surprised, I blinked and moved my body, expecting to feel my stiff back, arthritic knees, and aching feet. But no. It was as if I had returned to the body I had when I was 25. I even regained the inches of height stolen from me by age. Running one hand over my scalp, I realized I had a full head of hair again. I bet it was even brown.

At the sound of yelling, I looked up. Only to find a running, burly man only a few feet away from me, also holding a spear.

I only had time for a questioning look before I was run through the chest. My breath exploded, and I struggled to draw in a breath. Fluid filled my lungs. And I weakly thrashed as I drowned.

For the second time that day, I found myself bleeding out on the floor.

As the burning agony from the hole in my chest flooded my mind, it washed away all my thoughts. After all my worries about my past life were cleared out, it was strangely easy to think. It dawned on me what Valhalla was. A paradise for warriors to fight and train endlessly. I was no warrior. I wheezed, trying to say one last thing, to get up and do one more thing before I died again.

Mary's hand pulled me out of my body again a few moments later. "Not a bad first attempt. I'm sure you will do better next time."

Next time? The realization I would have to die yet again settled on me like manacles fastened around my spirit. I was going to die a lot, wasn't I?

We soared off into the distance toward the light of the mountain just now visible in the distance. After a few moments of processing, I couldn't help but mutter to her. "I should have chosen hell."