Three Doors (Part 2 of 2)

Apologies, story was too long so it was split in two. Part 1 here. 

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The television stopped. This time, Neil was older. He was walking his dog for a loop around a familiar lake in the middle of the city. Amber sunlight gave the scene an appropriate ethereal glow. Morning heat caused the lake to let off tendrils of steam. A light and pleasant breeze blew along the asphalt trail. Despite all that, Neil felt a sharp pain as if someone had stabbed him in the gut. He knew what the morning was. That was the last walk he would take with his dog. The pain of that moment would radiate for years until he finally decided it was better to remove himself from the world until he could no longer feel it.

            Neil could make out his tears and red eyes even on the small screen. He had been crying for the better part of a week, knowing the day was coming, and knowing that he would soon lose his best friend. The numbing pain of that moment wasn’t all that dissimilar to how he felt in death. Then, the white light lit up above the right door, radiant, beautiful, and strong. Neil felt relief from a question he never truly acknowledged: Did I make the right decision? At that moment, the answer was a clear yes, and while the pain was still sharp, a warm blanket wrapped around his soul and squeezed.

            Then, unbidden, the TV skipped forward again. It ran through memories in single frames of film, jumping backward, forward, and in between. At a certain point, the constant chiming of the doors became nothing but white noise, a needle scratch on the backdrop of his rapidly fading existence. A cloud of numbness enveloped Neil as he lost all sense of time and being. He felt vague emotional hits whenever the left door illuminated, but they passed by so briefly that it was hard to attach to any of them. He floated through his life as a barely conscious passenger on a long night drive. The memories remained familiar but grew more distant with each passing second.

            Then, all at once, the television popped out of existence, as did the sofa and Turbo. Ordinarily, the sudden shift would have been unsettling, but Neil didn’t feel it. A sense of finality grew within him. His life, flawed as it was, had been beautiful and now there was no more time to spend with it.

            “Well, that’s my bit done then,” said the voice. “Let me pass you over to someone adept at making final judgments.”

            “Wait, pass me over?”

            “I can’t do it all, can I? After this, there’s going to be a brief survey—”

            “You can’t be serious.”

            “No, of course there’s not a survey. Been a pleasure, Neil.” The intercom on the wall shuddered and then blipped out of existence. There was no sound, only the silent emptiness from where Neil was fairly sure there had been an intercom moments earlier. The gravity of the room shifted, suddenly pulling Neil forward toward the three doors. He took a hesitant step and stopped himself. Standing still was growing more difficult by the second. He waited, watching for the appearance of a second intercom.

            A voice appeared from the ether. “Hello, Neil, this is Final Judgment speaking.”

            “Final Judgment?”

            “Well, actually, it’s Terry, but Final Judgment sounds more official.”

            “What happened to the other person?”

            “Not a person, and they’re on break. Can’t do everything, can they?”

            “I guess not.”

            “Yes, well no sense wasting time, The Doors are ready. Looks like your judgment is…”

            In the absence of a racing heart, Neil felt a sort of anxious static tingle across the edges of his body. The doors were the sum judgment of his life and he knew where the left and right led. Not left, not left, not left.

            “Oh, tricky one this.”

            “Can you please get on with it?”

            “Yes of course.”

            The light above the middle door lit up.

            “It looks like you’re going to give it all another go.”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Yes, well, you didn’t quite land on Right Door, but I’ll be honest, much closer than last time.”

            “Last time?”

            “Yup, last time. Maybe this is the one. Good luck!”

            The middle door slowly creaked open. Grey mist flowed out from the crack.

            “How many times have I been here?”

            “Oh, you don’t want to know that.”

            “I do.”

            “Seven.”

            “Seven?!”

            “Yes, dead in the middle for the first three, a bit of a turn toward the left for the next two, and then slowly trending toward the right. This time will be better, I bet. Again, good luck!”

            “So, what? I just start over? What happens to what I just experienced?”

            “Yes, memory wipe, parallel universes, really boring. You won’t remember any of this in a minute, so maybe it’s best to just find peace with it and move on.”

            “I don’t feel very peaceful.” Truth be told, Neil felt quite agitated. The numbness that had wrapped itself around him was rapidly dissipating.

            “Well, that’s why some babies come out kicking and screaming. Find your peace now and your mother might get some sleep. Could make for a better childhood.”

            Neil’s head spun with the implication that his childhood trauma was the result of non-acceptance in a past life. The gravity of the doors grew stronger. Despite his stubborn refusal to move, he felt himself leaning closer. “So, I just walk through?”

            “That’s why they’re made as doors. If you wait too long they’ll just suck you in.”

            Neil took a tentative step.

            “That’s it.”

            “Do you have somewhere better to be?”

            “I’d like to go on break, passing judgment isn’t easy.”

            Neil walked toward the door, steadily gaining pace. Up close, it radiated power. Through the mist, he heard voices, some frantic, others calm. “See you in ninety years,” he said, hopefully.

            “Oh, it won’t be that long.”

            “Wait a—” But Neil was through the door. Cool mist enveloped him. Tiny pinpricks ran up and down his arm. He could no longer see himself and he felt his matter dissolving into tiny parts, one micron at a time. For a minute he floated. Nothing surrounded him. It was far more of a presence than physics should have allowed. It wasn’t unpleasant, it just was.

Semi-conscious, Neil tried to hold on to his memories, but even as he tried, they mattered less and less. There was a growing warmth that seemed more important than everything. He felt safe and secure. He curled into a ball, wanting never to leave the feeling. A blinding white light exploded into existence. With it came cold, stinging air, strange smells, and a cacophony of noise. Neil tried to move away, but strong hands pulled him closer. Everything went white and the Neil he had been moments earlier disappeared. In the same instant, he was born.