//------------------------------// // Will the Circle be Unbroken? // Story: Flatline // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// Scootaloo suddenly found herself standing on a platform at a railway station. The platform was white in colour, and extended far into the distance, as it was covered in fog and therefore was hard to judge the exact length from end to end. The station building was a huge, red brick building that closely resembled the architecture of the Midland Railway company in the UK. The entire platform was covered with a large covered roof, but not an overall roof. For some reason that wasn’t possible, as there was a running line just in the distance. The girl was also aware of a large throng of people standing on the platform. There were people of all nationalities and fashions. Some were dressed similarly to herself, but there were people from Asia, Africa, and many other nations. There were tall people, short people, fat people, thin people; every variety of person that could be thought of was there. But she had been in a hospital a moment ago, not at a railway station. Something wasn’t right here, at all. She wandered over to try and speak to somebody. “Excuse me?” she asked a man, a tall fellow with grey hair and glasses. “Yes, young lady?” he asked, with a British accent that conveyed friendliness and warmth. “Where am I?” Scootaloo asked. “I wasn’t here a moment ago.” The man laughed. “Why, my child, you’ve made it. We’re waiting for the train to Heaven.” Scootaloo stepped back, struggling to process what she had just heard. “Waiting for the train to Heaven?” she asked in response. “This is a joke, right?” This was impossible, it had to be! Another fellow stepped forward, dressed in a station master’s attire. “I’m afraid it isn’t, young lady.” His voice was sincere, but firm. “You are indeed waiting for the train to Heaven.” Scootaloo went into a state of shock almost immediately. “I-I’m dead?” she stammered. “In body, yes,” the first man said. “But raised in spirit by the Lord himself, as he promises all his children.” Scootaloo immediately thought of her friends and family, all stuck back there on the other side and presumably weeping over her body. “I have to get back to my friends!” she cried. “You can’t,” said the station master. “You can’t go back when you’re dead.” Scootaloo started to tear up as she walked over to one of the support columns for the station canopy. “They’re all alone down there,” she whimpered. “Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle are alone down there. It’s not fair.” She then punched the column as hard as she could. “IT’S NOT FAIR!” She slid down the column, hot tears leaving her eyes as she thought of all the things she could never do. She would never graduate alongside her friends, or get to hear their laughter again, or sample one of Apple Bloom’s treats. Never again would she hear the sound of steam engines thundering up and down the California coast, or get to hear a streetcar clattering past her window. And she would never get the chance to get married to Rumble. She would never know how far their relationship would go, or what would come of it. Her grief was interrupted by the sound of a loud whistle. “The train is here! HALLELUJAH!” shouted another passenger on the platform. The train rolled in tender first, pulled by a BR Standard Class 5 4-6-0 numbered 73116. It was coupled to a train of 10 coaches, which appeared to be MK1s on closer inspection of the stock, and each had a logo which bore the text ‘GREAT HEAVEN RAILWAY’. Steam wreathed the platform as a man hopped off the last carriage, dressed in white robes. He was an old man, with a grey beard and moustache, and carried a checklist in his hands-the passenger list, Scootaloo assumed. “Could you all please form an orderly line?” the man asked, glancing down at his list. “I will be checking you off on the passenger list before we board, so we can complete this process with the greatest efficiency. After all, Border Control will need to know exactly how many people to expect at the top end.” Scootaloo, accepting defeat, joined the back of the queue with her head held low. There was no denying it now. She was dead. And she would be never going back to Canterlot. “Mom,” she whispered. “If you can hear me, I'm sorry for failing you.” The process went on for a very long time, as people were checked through and took their seats on the train. At long last, the queue reached Scootaloo, or rather she reached the front of the queue. “Name?” the man in the white robes asked. “Scootaloo Collins,” she replied. The man in the white robes flicked through the list to C, and looked in surprise. “This must be a mistake,” he said. “Your name is not on the passenger list!” “What?” Scootaloo was shocked to hear this. “I’m not meant to be here?” The man in the white robes sighed. “Well, I’ll need to check this with the man upstairs. Paul isn’t going to like this.” Wait, Paul? Then Scootaloo realised who she was talking to. “You’re Peter! The Keeper of the Keys to Heaven!” The man in the white robes nodded. “Yes, my child, that is me.” He then indicated to the front carriage. “Come, we have a journey to take, up to the Pearly Gates themselves.” By this point, the engine had finished running around, and coupled onto the front. With a loud blast of the whistle, and steam shooting from the draincocks, the Standard 5 pulled away from the platform and thundered down the line. The railway climbed so high it seemed to reach above the mountains. The tracks snaked around hills and valleys, over lakes and rivers which appeared to be made of milk and honey. As they continued their ascent, the train cleared the cloud level, and danced through the skies and up to the mountaintops themselves, and onwards still into the skies. Then it came into view at last. The Heavenly City. “And I saw a New Heaven and a New Earth,” Scootaloo said, absent-mindedly. “Book of Revelation, Verse 21, 1st line.” Peter’s addition startled her somewhat, as she looked around. “Quite a good one that, if a little apocalyptic at the end.” The train pulled to a stop just outside the Pearly Gates themselves, and the passengers got off to enter the queues. Peter took Scootaloo off to one side and headed to a side gate. “Priority clearance,” he said to the pair of Seraphim at the gate. “Trying to sneak them through the side again?” asked a voice, belonging to a man with a long, black beard. “Proper passport control must be observed.” “This girl wasn’t on the passenger list,” Peter said. “There was clearly some sort of error, Paul.” Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Very well,” he said. “But I don’t think the Lord will be happy about this.” The two guards stood aside, and let the pair through. The city was truly incredible, shining like a golden gem in the sun, and the thoroughfares were crowded with people. On one side, Robert Riddles and Richard Trevithick were exchanging design ideas for steam locomotives, whilst Winston Churchill and William Gladstone were in a heated debate over the virtues of tariffs compared to free trade. Finally, before they reached the massive temple that dominated the skyline, they walked past H.G. Wells and Jules Verne working on a novel. Scootaloo took the opportunity to ask Peter a question. “There’s something I don’t get,” she said. “And that is?” “Jules Verne spoke French. I don’t speak particularly good French, so how come I can understand him?” Peter laughed. “I spoke Aramaic during my Earthly life, and yet can speak with you easily, in a tongue that didn’t even exist when I lived. The answer is that all in Heaven can understand one another, through the universal language of faith.” “Oh, so sorta like a Babel Fish?” Peter looked confused. “What’s a Babel Fish?” They entered the Temple, and Peter opened the doors to the great atrium. Almost immediately, Scootaloo covered her eyes, as they were assailed by a great light and glorious music from choirs of angels flowed into her ears. “Come, my child,” said a loud, booming voice. “Do not be afraid to look.” Scootaloo took her hand away from her eyes, and sure enough, found herself looking upon the face of God. She almost immediately dropped to her knees and began to pray. Meanwhile, Peter spoke to the Lord. “This child was not on the passenger list for the train to Heaven,” he explained. “I fear there has been a mistake.” God nodded. “Yes.” He called out. “Rise, my child! There is no need for fear in the presence of the Lord.” Scootaloo shakily got up, and walked toward the throne, though she was very uneasy. The voice rang out again. “We will indeed meet again, and one day you will make the Journey to Paradise. But today is not that day.” Scootaloo nodded, then suddenly stiffened as her vision went white.