He soon woke up in a land of paradise. He spent the next few days exploring. Heaven was exactly as he imagined—pristine rolling hills, golden castles upon cloud tops, reunions with lost loved ones, and endless opportunities to explore one’s hobbies. He had access to the finest selection of inks and paper, so he continued to hone his craft even in death.

The calligrapher would rotate his time between practicing his calligraphy and exploring what more Heaven had to offer. At some point, however, he noticed something: no matter where he went, no matter what activity he engaged in, he saw no angels fluttering about. It was strange, he thought, that everything else he was told about Heaven ended up being true, but angels were such a strong point of emphasis in the scripture! He asked around, and no other resident had seen any angels either.

He continued about his days as normal, but he couldn’t help but be bothered by this small detail. How could every other aspect of Heaven be real, but not the entities that were supposed to chaperone it? As he pondered, he suddenly heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he asked, somewhat annoyed.

“It is I, God!” said He on the other side.

The calligrapher hurriedly opened the door. “Oh my… You! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know.”

“It is all right, my son,” God said. “I am only here to check on you. I like to meet with all of our new residents after they’ve settled in!”

“It’s an honor, truly!” said the calligrapher. “I’m a huge fan of Your work.”

God gave a hearty laugh. “And I, yours! I’m always impressed by the craftsmanship of all My children. You know, they say that when an artist gets entrenched in their craft, it is as though they are experiencing a slice of Heaven in that moment.”

The man thought for a second. “You know, I’d be inclined to agree!”

“So, I suppose the inverse is true, is it not?” said God. “Doesn’t Heaven remind you of the most beautiful scripts you can imagine?”

He hesitated to respond. “I’m not sure about that…”

God looked surprised. “What is wrong, my child?” He asked.

The calligrapher sighed. “Well, Heaven is great and all, but it’s sans seraph.”