Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anaïs Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

The Debate

It had been almost a year since her unscheduled demise and she still hadn’t discovered who was responsible. So Alice remained trapped in limbo land which happened to be the hospital in which she used to work.

Time had passed quickly, she was just as busy now as before her exodus from the beating heart demographic, unlike her fellow angels Catherine and Margaret, also here under similar circumstances.

Alice had been spending most of her time over the past week caring for the gastro patients that still lined the corridors. She had little choice really as some of those suffering from high fevers could actually see her. That wasn’t a problem, because it was temporary and nobody would believe them if they said there was an apparition holding their hand. However, she felt obliged to help out by staying with them until they settled.

Thinking about her friends, she wondered what they’d been doing; they rarely spent time in the wards, but she hadn’t even caught sight of them in the corridors. Now she thought of it, she’d never actually asked what they did with their time. It wasn’t as if they had anything resembling social outlets at their disposal, although, having no apparent purpose for existing didn’t appear to bother them.

Perhaps that’s what eventually happened in limbo; an existence where there was no concept of time, and just like fish in a bowl, no consciousness or desire for anything outside the loop. If that were the case, she’d rather be flushed down the loo than spend an eternity doing nothing.

She floated gently through the manhole to their sanctuary in the hospital ceiling space, amazed at the scene before her.

Sitting at the table amongst a collection of posters, paints and pens were Catherine and Margaret, both busily inserting printed name cards into plastic holders and obviously preparing for some sort of gathering.

“Are you two planning a takeover bid for Heaven?”

“Alice, we’re so glad you’re back,” said Catherine, not missing a beat in her production line. “Everybody will be arriving soon and we still have so much to do. Could you please start setting up the chairs?”

Somewhat underwhelmed by the welcome, Alice felt entitled to a little sarcasm at this point.

“Certainly, just what sort of seating format did you have in mind, circle or theatre and will I be serving canapes as the guests arrive?”

“Well,” Margaret responded, “I’d make sure the chairs are as far from each other as possible and maybe separated by an electric fence.”

Alice realised it wasn’t a joke as she took a closer at the posters which seemed to be advertising a debate of some sort. Judging by the Dante' style imagery, the forthcoming event would not be for the faint-hearted.

Dumbfounded, Alice looked at the drawings of scary horned devil characters and intense angels. With no explanation from the complicit pair before her, she left for a head clearing walk.

Where had the aliens hidden the real Catherine and Margaret? Where had the advertising material come from? Did her friends have access to a world outside their angel abode? Did they have the area code for Heaven? She had no answers but their little sweatshop certainly explained why they didn’t need a television.

Her contemplative roaming hadn’t helped, so she returned to the loft, glad to see they hadn’t flown the coup but still having no idea where to start the conversation.

Alice cleared a spot on the table and placed her security teapot in front of her, more for something to focus on rather than the scary caricatures before her. “Well, I love what you’ve done with the place, kind of Devil made me do it look, very chic,” Alice joked, she could see they were under pressure and hoped a little levity would lighten the mood.

It didn’t.

Margaret had obviously been considering her choice of words before trying to explain what was happening.

“Alice, you’re probably wondering what we’re doing.”

Deciding to remain calm in response to the feeble statement, Alice nodded in agreement but struggled to refrain from verbalising any response like “You think?!”

Encouraged by no external signs of a meltdown, Margaret tried again.

“Alice, you already know there’s a Heaven but your orientation so far hasn’t included an introduction to Hell. We were kind of hoping that you would have found your release before we had to try and explain the ABC’s of demonics.”

Still eliciting no response, she continued.

“Well, anyway, unfortunately for some, Hell is real and while the three of us won’t be going there, we still have to join the fight in keeping the doomed troublemakers where they belong. What you see here is our contribution to the cause.”

This was definitely a two person explanation so Catherine picked up where Margaret had left off.

“We have been asked to host a debate between Heaven and Hell. It will have all the impact of a physical battle but with words instead of weapons, well mostly.”

Alice shook her head in a futile effort to clear the crazy. “So let me make sure I understand this,” she said trying to recall the principles of active listening. "Firstly, there is a Hell and by the look of these posters, it’s as scary as well, Hell. Secondly, there’s an ongoing territorial war, for which there is some sort of participation roster and last but not least, we have to be within flambé distance of the actual devil?!”

That pretty well summed it up so they simply smiled, nodded and handed her some posters.

So there was to be a debate between Heaven and Hell, angels and demons, the proverbial good and bad, and the displaced trio were the event organisers.

As confused and amazed as Alice was, she asked no more questions like, what happens if the fire breathers win. She decided to check on the fire extinguishers.

Two days later their guests began arriving under their own steam, having followed the poster trail to the ceiling space. Alice was curious about the inconsistencies in the presence of supernatural powers; the pedestrian arrival of the visitors being a case in point. She figured it may have something to do with the fact their location was basically transient; not Heaven or Hell and maybe therefore lacked some of the magic she had taken for granted would exist.

Even for the uninitiated, it was easy to pick who belonged to which team; stereotypical or not, the team colours were white for the angels and red and black for the baddies. Alice thought the name cards were probably unnecessary.

She was grateful she wasn’t expected to shake hands with either side; the demons were hot, angry and scary but she wasn’t sure she wanted to actually meet God just yet. What would you say to someone who already knew more about your past, present and future, including your thoughts, than you did? Alice actually felt sorry for God. He must be starving for stimulation, she imagined the frustration of being surrounded by great minds yet still desperate for a conversation or a chess game with a soul who’s every word or movement you were not able to predict.

Positioning each team as far apart as possible turned out to be more of an essential safety requirement than a suggestion. On opposite sides of the room, hopefully out of firing range, were long tables made from what could have been recycled planks from the Ark.

The space in between was no man’s land and where the dais had been positioned.

They made sure none of the props were sharp or heavy enough to be used as weapons. There was no need for jugs of water or bowls of mints.

So with guests seated, they closed the doors choosing to stay on the outside. But within minutes the noise emanating from the room suggested hand to hand combat had overpowered diplomacy. Just in case they had to flee the scene, they peeked inside.

It was chaos.

The room was filled with smoke. Feathers covered the floor having been torn off by the angels’ frantic antics to remove the cockroaches thrown by their demon opponents in the debate.

But order was quickly restored thanks to a few cracks of cosmic thunder and a shortage of ammunition.

The hostesses took a seat close to the door ready for an emergency exit just in case, although they’d have a problem getting Catherine to let go of the door handle should that be required.

Alice thought they could have chosen a less war evoking topic than 'Is God a Liar'; controversial to say the least.

The Devil won the toss and wasted no time taking centre stage. He immediately turned his back on the audience and pointed at the huge framed picture hanging on the wall behind him. Looking at anything would have been better than the view of his back with its resident crawling hitchhikers.

“This picture epitomises His dishonesty,” he announced, with volume and venom punctuated by acid dripping from his mouth. The steaming holes in the floor indicated it was actual acid and added a whole new meaning to vitriolic speech.

The scene he referred to was quite a pleasant picture really. It showed the view of a lake as seen from inside what appeared to be a cave. Without so much as a ripple on the water, the tranquillity was mesmerising. But the Devil apparently wasn’t feeling the love and brought the audience back.

“Hell’s reputation of endless pain, misery and heat with no air conditioning may be deserved, but it is at least honest compared to the euphemistic propaganda about Heaven.” He floated from one side of the stage to the other, alternating his countenance from human to demonic but there was no need for horns to convey the terror he commanded. Everyone was mesmerised by the devilish theatrics.

“Beautiful.” He sneered sarcastically. “But like its creator, this picture is a lie!" He moved dramatically to loom over God pointing his smoking finger at him and shouting, "He’s no more than a salesman, or worse a politician. The dishonesty of this contrived view is in itself enough evidence to prove my argument. No danger here you might think, but be not fooled. You know not what’s under the water, or what awaits on shore. These are the unknowns He dismisses as an undeniable part of life, regardless of the pain. I say better the devil you know and that you can see.”

Team angel fluffed their wings to disguise their deflated confidence at the Devil’s convincing barbs, and point scoring invasion of the deity’s personal space.

God stepped up to the dais which had been elevated and now resembled a pulpit, complete with spotlight.

“Again with the symbolism,” spat the Devil.

God ignored him and bowed his head. But he wasn’t about to pray, he was fiddling with the dimmer control, apparently the light was making things a bit hot up there what with the heavy cloth of his robes and all.

A little more comfortable now, he addressed the audience with the expected tone of a sermon and certainly without battery acid dripping from his lips.

Turning down the light was a good trick thought Alice, it was a symbolic tone down after the revving of the audience by his arch enemy. And just for a second she thought maybe the Devil had a point about the redirection.

“My opponent correctly notes the unseen but he is the liar - a thief of the conscious mind by blatant misrepresentation.”

Fire extinguishers were grabbed as the temperature on the demons’ side of the room skyrocketed.

“My evil adversary would have you believe that I have deliberately mislead you and that dishonesty has been achieved through omission. How sad it would be if the beauty of this scene and beyond was denied by showing every potential danger. Would an environment devoid of beauty, real or imagined, not be Hell itself? Deceitful? On the contrary.”

Just as the Devil had done, God turned to look at the picture behind him and the audience followed his gaze.

There must have been more cinematic professionals residing in Heaven than in Hell because suddenly we weren’t just looking at a photo. There was now a movie playing in the frame, complete with angelic music and soft lighting transporting us to the cave. But just as we were about to step out into the sunshine to, wait for it, walk across the water, the cave disappeared. Alice had almost forgotten how good the sunshine felt.

Having literally left us high and dry God finished his delivery on a metaphorical note.

“Choose to stay in the cave and you stay with the Devil.” He was definitely ahead on points.

Time was up, hopefully just for the debate and not as in the end of everything meaning.

With the presentations complete, eyes both innocent and malevolent turned to the moderator.

Catherine renewed her grip on the doorknob.

The room was as quiet as a, well, as a graveyard. Not the ruffle of a feather or the tap of a cloven hoof on the floor disturbed the peace.

There was a lot at stake here, and although Alice had no idea how the battle scoring system worked, she figured at best, the losers would be making a few statements; physically and verbally.

Having waddled to the dais, Alice could now see that the moderator appeared to be neither angel nor devil. He was a rotund fellow of around fifty years of age and actually looked very human. So human in fact that Alice thought he might have been more at home leaning on a bar with his similarly rotund companions.

After a couple of minutes of babble and regurgitating what had just been said Alice realised how this circus worked. It was just like any parliament, token political speak, smoke and screens, albeit in this case the smoke was real.

And just as in any arena of power, the hypocrisy was confirmed when the result of the debate was announced. The moderator declared the debate to be a draw. He’d done his job and told the audience what they needed to hear.

Obviously the production had served a purpose, sham or not. And while she was glad there were no injuries on either side, if that were actually possible, it was an anticlimax.

After some ineffectual posturing from both sides, probably scripted, they disappeared all at the same time as if someone had pressed the delete button.

The room was empty except for the feathers, cockroaches and a scorched dais. Catherine and Margaret set to sweeping and reclaiming their home with no comment. But Alice needed to reconcile, so she chose to blame the influence of the devil clan for the disappointingly human behaviour she had witnessed.

She quietly hoped that the real Heaven wasn’t just Earth with a better address.