Genres: Death, Fantasy, Modern.
Word Count: ~2000
Big thank you to my friend Audrey for helping me edit this one!
It's true what they say. Tomorrow isn’t a promise.
As my car drove into the river, each moment felt like an eternity. My brain searched in vain for any possible means of survival. My body and mind panicked up until my last conscious moment. But there was nothing I could do.
My head slammed against the top of the steering wheel. At first, there was nothing but darkness. I felt weightless. Formless. Like the car seat had disappeared. Then, without ever opening my eyes, the world around me became a blinding white.
I wasn’t in the car anymore. I wasn’t anywhere anymore. In each direction, I could only see an endless white void. It was clear what had happened to me.
I had died.
I sighed and looked around. Everywhere looked the exact same. A monochromatic nothingness stretching for miles and miles in all directions. That was except for right behind me. A brown wooden door stood tall and eerie. Its handle reflected the bright white back at me, as if it were calling out to be turned. I refused its call and turned away.
I came face-to-face with a towering figure. It looked like a mannequin. a featureless face only containing impressions of what should be distinctive features. It was eggshell white, distinguishing its form from the blinding brightness of the void. It wore a cloak that obstructed the rest of its body from view. The cloak was also white, matching the backdrop. It appeared as if the void itself draped over the figure. It stood before me, casting no shadow.
“Where are you going, child?” The figure asked in a serene, calming voice.
“I don’t know. Where do you think I should go?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.
It pointed at the door behind me, “Your destination is still here for you.”
“I’m not going in there.” I said sternly.
The figure tilted its head, “Oh? You are still apprehensive?”
I did not answer.
The figure raised an arm out from under its cloak and scratched its chin. “How long do you plan to stay out here, child?”
I shrugged, “As long as I want, I suppose.”
“You have not enjoyed your experiences thus far.”
“Well, I know for certain that I won’t enjoy whats behind that door.”
The figure’s featureless face remained fixated on mine. “May you find peace, child.”
I did not acknowledge the figure’s words. I walked past it into the blinding white void.
For a long while, my surroundings remained empty and simplistic. But as I walked, a tan color faintly replaced the blinding white. It was subtle and slow, but the change was undeniable. I was no longer walking down an infinite void, but the long, narrow hallway of my childhood home. The scene was hazy at first, lit by a soft, warm light. Slowly, with each step, the wall’s details became clearer. I ran my hand against the familiar popcorn texture of the drywall. I reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner.
I froze and stared into my old kitchen. The scene before me adjusted from a blurry image into a clear memory. I saw a younger version of myself, sitting at a small circular table. She stared at the pink cake in front of her, the small flame atop the candle reflected in her wide eyes. She was smiling. My parents sat at the other end of the table, looking at the younger me, their backs to the current me. They were singing a song, but I could not hear them.
My eyes welled up with tears at the living sight of my distant memory. I smiled and closed my eyes, trying my best not to let the tears escape. I glanced to my right, and I saw the door. The door I had refused to open. My smile dropped, and I walked back down the hallway.
At the end of the hall was the dark red front door. I went to open it, to leave this place. I stopped before turning the handle. To my left was my old living room. I could see my younger self sitting on the floor. She was older compared to the scene in the kitchen. My father sat behind the younger me, talking. I couldn’t hear him, but I remembered exactly what he was saying. Tears ran down my younger self’s face. My father bent down and held her in his arms. From my new angle, I noticed that he was no longer wearing a ring. I cursed under my breath, pushed the memory of his words down, turned away, and opened the front door.
I stepped out into the familiar sight of my old neighborhood. Houses lined the street below a busy overpass. I stepped onto the front porch and looked to my right. There, I once again saw myself. She was even older now, only a year younger than my current self, sitting on a bench. My dad worked in the front yard. There was a silent tension between the two. It reminded me of unspoken words and a tinge of regret. I continued down the steps, onto the sidewalk, and past the garage.
At the street corner, I saw myself six months younger, carrying a heavy suitcase. She was standing next to a blue car, driven by her boyfriend. My father stood with her, arguing. They were loud, loud enough that I could hear them. Their voices reached me dampened and muffled, but the anger was evident. The younger me stormed off and got into the passenger seat of the car. My father chased her and stood by the door. He begged the younger me to stay, spilling a decade's worth of repressed regrets in words I could not hear but remembered clearly. She shut the door on him, and the car drove away. I looked as my father stood in the street, his head in his hands. I turned away and walked around the street corner.
The scene around me changed. I was miles away, in a downtown apartment complex. Myself from three weeks ago walks past me on the sidewalk. She was carrying groceries. She paused and pulled out her ringing phone. “Dad” appeared at the top of the screen. She sighed and turned off her phone. She walked a few doors down before entering the fourth apartment from the corner.
I followed her. With each step I took, time seemed to move faster. The sun flew through the sky until the stars took its place. Clouds rolled in at dizzying speeds. Rain drenched my clothes. I stood on the front porch. I looked down at my watch. The time read 8:24 PM. It was thirty minutes ago.
I considered turning around. I knew what was going to happen. I didn’t want to see it again. But I felt myself opening the door against my will. Like a nightmare, I was reliving the memory through my own eyes. The door opened, and I saw my boyfriend kissing a woman I did not know. I heard myself asking what was going on. Heard him give a terrible reply, the kind of reply that one only gives as an excuse. I saw anger and confusion on the woman’s face. I heard myself start to yell, the betrayal rising up in me all over again. I stormed out of the apartment, got into the car, and drove away.
I was going nowhere fast. I got onto the highway and swerved into the fast lane without even looking at the side mirrors. Heading toward the bridge, the speedometer needle continued to climb. Tears welled up in my eyes, obscuring the already rain-splattered windshield. Internally, I begged and pleaded that something would change. I tried to force myself to stop, to slow down. I tried everything I could to do things differently, to have the situation play out in any other way, but every move was made without any input from me.
The memory played out exactly as it had so many times before.
I hit the same bump in the road. Which caused my car to spin out in the exact same way. I flipped over the same concrete railing, landing halfway over the edge of the bridge.
It teetered only for a moment.
As my car dived into the river, each moment felt like an eternity.
But the fall felt faster this time.
The shining white void blinded me. I fell to my knees and wept. Loud sobs permeated the void, as tears dropped into the endless abyss.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and the faceless figure was standing behind me.
“I’m sorry, child,” It said.
“Why does it keep happening? Why do I keep reliving those memories?” I asked between sobs.
The figure wiped a tear from my face, “Because you refuse to let go.”
I put my head against the figure’s chest as I cried. It wrapped its arms around me.
“How many times have I been back here.” I asked.
“This is your one thousand first time, child.”
I sniffed. I peered up at the brown wooden door behind me.
“Why do you believe that the door will lead to pain?” The figure asked.
“It’s my parent’s room.” I responded quietly.
“And that is bad?”
I nodded, “Most of my memories of that house are terrible.”
The figure scratched its chin. “Perhaps you have forgotten some of your good memories.”
I looked at the figure. “What do you mean?”
It caressed my cheek, “Let go.”
I looked back and forth from the figure to the door. It stood but a few feet away from us. I let out a shaky breath.
“Okay.”
The creature stood up and offered me a hand. I took it.
I took a single step toward the door. Then another. And another.
With each step, the door seemed to grow bigger. Or… I grew smaller.
When I finally stood in front of the door, it was much taller than I was. I looked back at the figure. It stood tall and noble. It nodded.
I reached out my hand, a child’s hand, and opened the door.
Inside was a dark, cramped room. A queen-sized bed was pushed against the corner, a nightstand on its right. Two people lie in the bed. The moonlight shone through the open window. I saw a glimpse of myself in the standing mirror. A child’s eyes looked back at me, younger than any of my other selves had been.
One of the people in the bed sat up slightly. It was my father. Tired, yet loving eyes met with mine.
“What’s wrong Alex?” he asked gently.
“I’m scared.” I said quietly. “I can’t sleep.”
“That’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He motioned for me to climb up into the bed.
I pulled myself up with a bit of a struggle and climbed between my parents. My dad whispered goodnight and closed his eyes.
I laid on my back, looking at the ceiling. I glanced at the face of my father, sound asleep, breathing gently. I glanced at the face of my mother, eyes closed, full of peace. The blankets were so warm, and the night so quiet.
I turned over, and I felt my mom cradle me in her arms.
I let out a sigh, and all my fears slipped away.
What was there to worry about?
I closed my eyes and fell into a very long, peaceful sleep.