This is just a piece of Christian comfort fiction I am writing and wanted to share with people. A piece of fantasy to meditate on for relaxation. This is the prologue. --- Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way. These opening words from Dante's Inferno summed up what had happened to me during my walk through the forest. I could feel the presence of the entities who allegedly haunted this region, but I could not see them visibly. Then, after rummaging through foliage, I found a stone path that led to a door, enshrouded by shrubbery and the overgrowth of trees. The plaque on the front read, "Psalm 23". There was below it a keyhole shaped like a heart which I tried to look through, but to no avail. Then suddenly, my chest was overtaken by a warmth, and I saw a ray of light eminate from my chest and pierce the hole. The door swung open. A bit startled, I quickly ran into the doorway, feeling pulled by a mysterious but assuring power. The door shut behind me, and I could hear something banging on it, but could not get in. Then, passing through the dark hallway, another door closed and I was in the lobby of a giant hotel. The receptionist seemed to be a boldly statured man who was busy thumbing through documents. I noticed he had wings, and they were folded in a casual manner. "Good evening," he said with a curteous smile. "We've been expecting you." I was then greeted by a young lady with an apron, who apparently had been a maid of some sort. She smiled and waved to me, "If I can help you, let me know." I sighed with relief. The place was well lit, and there was the sound of some very lively music coming from a nearby hall, into which I looked and saw a cafeteria with many people. They were neither loud or raucous, but talking casually. Some played card games. The band creating the music stood on a little pulpit. It was a young woman with a harp accompanying an older woman with a golden voice. I went to the receptionist and asked where I could get a room. He asked for my certification. "What?" I said, puzzled, but instinctively I grasped at a little bag at my side that I knew somehow was there all along, and pulled out a book. It was an old and tattered, pocket-sized King James bible. I opened to the front page and on it was a signature of confirmation, bearing my own name. "That's good enough." the man said. "Let me fetch the maid and she'll guide you to an appropriate room." "Thank you," I said, bowing politely. The maid waved and gestured me to follow her, and gladly, she took me down a corridor where some doors were open for rooms already occupied. People peered at me curiously as the newcomer made his way to his own private space.