By the time he graduated university, he was recognized worldwide as a great author. He had seven books under his belt.
When Zolan was forty, entire bookstores were dedicated merely to the sale of his books.
Zolan died at the ripe age of eighty five. He was surprised to find himself being pulled slowly from his body and up, up, up into the sky. He began to be pulled faster and faster until all the sparks of light in the universe melted into a dazzling mosaic. The colours of this mosaic melted and merged further until everything was white. He looked around and found he was not alone in the white plan.
"How do you do?" asked the man standing beside him. He offered a hand and helped Zolan rise to his feet.
"So this is it, huh?" asked Zolan.
"Yup, I suppose so," the man replied. "This is where souls come for damnation."
"I lead my life to a strict moral standard! I read every piece of moral literature I could find!"
The Judge laughed. "Don't get so upset, Zolan. I'm just joking. You are certainly a very good person. This decision should be easy."
"Well...how does it work?"
"It's working right now, actually."
"You do this with each and every soul that comes here?"
"How do you find the time?"
The Judge smiled. "All of your questions will be answered, Zolan."
"When? What happens after you judge me? That is what we're doing here, right?"
"Alright, how about we just get to it then? Looking back on your life, what sticks out the most? What is the first thing that comes to mind about your life?"
Zolan thought for a moment. "I never finished my last book. It was the best one yet, readers would have loved it."
"They certainly would have. But Zolan, you passed by the greatest period of your conscious existence without noticing the beauty of it! It is as a true friend that I send you back. This time, make sure to smell the roses."
Before Zolan could offer a defense his world burst into colors once more.