I’ll Be Back Monday  
By Wendell Teal

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Once upon a time, before the land of dreams became the launching pad for departing souls, I found myself captivated by an angel standing at the edge of the day. 

She held golden keys that ignited my imagination and unlocked the mysteries of the night. 

These breathtaking moments whisked me away to the four corners of the heavens, where precious stars, adorned with jewels unseen by human eyes, moved under the watchful gaze of God.

In this celestial realm, I was inducted into the Halls of Fame, saturated with indescribable colors and sensations, surrounded by a garden where mysteries danced like shadows. 

The sounds of water flowed backward into an abyss of whiteness, mesmerizing my attention, expanding my consciousness with an explosion of passion that lifted me into the Birthstone of Life. 

Reality breathed life into the seeds of 144,000, framed in the number of many men.

“Come here, oh beautiful eyes,” I heard a voice beckoning. 

“Travel with me into the colors of reality. Open your ears and hear the gentle breeze of a world beyond light.” 

Before my birth, I was there—where I could touch the rays of music, peaceful like rushing water climbing backwards up colorful mountain peaks, disappearing into the eyes of creation. 

It was a place devoid of air, taste, or trees—a realm where I could soar high into the mist, cradled in the bosom of God. The Temple bathed in pink and blue light was my school, where I learned my first lesson.

When my lesson concluded, I was sent on a mission to Earth. 

“Why me?” I asked, my heart pounding with uncertainty. 

The answer came: it would be my second lesson of trial and error, a learning experience steeped in intellect, emotion, movement, instinct, and desire. 

As I prepared for my journey, I gazed upon the Tree of Life and the Tree of Good and Evil. Knowledge of discernment was bestowed upon me, and my focus became clear: revealing the Mark of the Beast, a number waiting to be unveiled. 

I felt unprepared, yet I understood that black light was the most powerful in the universe. I had to cross twelve golden bridges to slip between light and darkness to enter this plane.

I remember my birth vividly. Groups of three traveled through my mother’s birth canal, and I could see light at the end of the tunnel—the light of this world. I fell into the doctor’s hands, and he exclaimed, “It’s a boy!” 

My mother, a fair-skinned Black woman, wore a bland expression. She knew she had to leave the hospital immediately because of the color of her skin. My father used the back door to take us home, filled with questions of “Why me?” and “Aren’t we all created equal?” 

I was fortunate to be born in a hospital instead of a cornfield, unlike many who came before me. But I sensed trials and tribulations awaited me, and I knew one of the four runners would assist me at some point.

In this strange place, I felt lost, my memories fading until I fell asleep, awakening in the arms of my Heavenly Father. 

Then, I heard screams from below, penetrating my heart like thunder. My mother, growling like a wolf, urged me to wake up. I realized it was just a dream, but it felt so real. Soaked from head to toe, my eyes stuck together as if glued.

Today was frozen still, faces filled with madness as snow fell endlessly. We huddled next to the vent, wishing for warmth to penetrate our bones.

It was Christmas Eve. Santa Claus briefly stopped but left in a huff, having seen no cakes or pies on the table. He even left a note saying, “Merry Christmas! I’ll be back on Monday.”

I knew he was lying; he’d said the same thing last year.


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Wendell Teal served in the United States Army during the Vietnam Era. He attended Cuyahoga Community College and worked for the Cleveland Press Newspaper and United States Postal Service before retiring. He has since ventured into 3D modeling and animation and started his own film company. Currently, he is working on a 720-page novel.