When I woke up, there was a shining white bridge at my feet. I got up, and looked around. I was on a hill, and my back had been against a tree. The tree had blood on it. Suddenly the memories came back. The blood was mine. I was dead.
I looked back at the spectacular bridge. Then I realized that this must be the bridge to heaven. Sighing, I started up the bridge, towards the sky. Towards heaven.
The more I walked, the more other people started showing up on the bridge. Other people who had died. Some were dressed in present day clothing, while others went so far back as to the colonial days.
“How long is the bridge?” I asked the man next to me. He was dressed in an Union army uniform.
“You get to the end once you’ve earned it. Once you’ve walked far enough. For some it’s a very long time. For others, it’s very short,” he replied. I nodded. I’ve always helped others, and donated to those in need. My walk might not be to long.
Then, I see a brilliant bright light. The end. My walk was short. I reached heaven.