Scott was standing in a hallway full of doors.  They each had a single small window about the size of a quarter.  The hallway stretched on as far as the eye could see.  They were infinite.  He turned around, only to see the hallway stretch on for an equal distance.  He was in the middle of a hallway of doors, infinite possibilities.

He walked for a while, not peering into any windows quite yet.  He wanted to get a feel for this strange place first.  His footsteps clacked on the tile, and he realized he was wearing clothes that were somewhat formal.  He had a button-up shirt on, slacks, and nice black shoes.  They tapped like tap shoes – clack, clack, clack.

He couldn’t remember how he got here.  He couldn’t remember much of anything.  He tried the old medical questions to see if his memory was intact.  The first president was George Washington.  The year is 2011.  I have three kids, girls.  My birthday is August tenth.  I live in Southern California. 

He stopped walking.  Wait a minute. If I live in Southern California, and have a family, what am I doing here? 

There were a few things that he always had, imprinted in his mind like a thorn.  He checked his watch, which was no longer there.  He fingered with this thumb for his wedding ring, which was not there.  He looked, and there wasn’t even a pale version of it imprinted in his skin.  He checked his pockets, and found a phone.  Not his cell phone, but some plain red one, the kind you find in a cell phone store that comes free with a 2 year commitment. 

He opened it.  There were no contacts, save one.  It was a number he didn’t recognize, but the contact had a name to it.  It said, “Call me”.  He selected it, and put the phone to his ear.  It rang twice, and someone answered.

“Good morning!”  The voice was cheerful, polite to a fault.  Scott was apprehensive about this.  He looked around, in both directions of the infinite hallway, and at the infinite doorways. 

“Good morning.”  Scott said. 

“How are you?”

“Um…   Confused.  You?”

“I’m good.  Thanks for asking!”

There was a silence.  Scott was annoyed.  Either this voice wasn’t going to offer any information about his current situation, or he was dreaming.

“So…”  Scott started.

“Yes?”  The voice answered.

“What is your name?”

“That question doesn’t pertain to your current situation.”

Scott was taken aback.  He pulled the phone from his ear, looked at the screen to make sure it was on.  It sounded like the kind of answer you’d hear in a bad video game where the player had to type what to do next, only to be greeted with response after response of try again. 

                Scott put the phone back to his ear, considered his options, and decided against sarcasm.  That wouldn’t help him in this situation.

“Where am I?”  He settled on asking.

“Ahh!  Now we’re getting to the good questions!  You are faster than most, yes you are!”  The voice said.

There was silence on the phone for a bit.  Unconsciously, he started drumming his fingers against his pants.  Scott sighed in frustration. 

“I guess you are ready for the answer now.”

“What the hell were you waiting for?”  Scott asked.

“You are smarter than that, Scott.”  Scott raised his eyebrows at that, but didn’t say a word.  How did this guy know anything about him?  “Let me tell you what you already know.  You are in a hallway, and you cannot see the end of it in either direction.  You see doors on each side, about ten feet apart each, and there are peepholes in each one.”

Scott looked around, and yes they were about ten feet apart, he guessed.  Not that it was terribly important.  He thought about looking through one of the peepholes to see what he might find, but decided against it.

“No, go ahead.”  The voice on the phone said.   What???  Did this guy know what he was thinking?

“You could say that.”  The voice said.  Infuriating!

Scott walked up to one of the doors, and cautiously peered inside.   Inside he saw a green meadow.  There were flowers blowing in a slight breeze.  The short grass swayed with them, creating a wave.  There were a couple of trees further back.  It was a beautiful setting.   He pulled away.

“Did you like what you saw?”  The voice asked over the phone.

“It was…  peaceful.”  Scott replied.

“You should look at more of them.”

Scott looked around, deciding to check the door to the left of the one he was facing.  He looked through the peephole again.  He saw a bedroom with a large sized bed.  It had satin sheets, pillows in the shape of a heart, and the décor was in shades of red.  On the bed, there were two women in shiny red lingerie.  They were laughing playfully, and touching each other lightly, flirtingly. 

Scott withdrew his face from the door.  He noticed he was now wearing a deep red robe, tied at the waist.  He also noticed he was sweating.  He wiped his forehead, then sighed.  He put his hand to the doorknob, and started to turn it.

“Not yet!!!”  The voice on the phone screamed into his ear.  It made Scott jump.  He let go of the doorknob.  He took another look, then stepped away. 

“Why can’t I go in?”  Scott asked.  “Is there something wrong?”

“You don’t know the rules yet.”  It answered.  This gave Scott pause.  He cautiously looked around, taking in the environment, the hallway, the doors.  Everything looked the same.  Every door was white, with a wooden texture.  Every quarter sized window had a small red frame around it.  Every doorknob was plain, just a sphere attached to a post.  The walls were textured, white, plain.  There was absolutely no smell in this place.  No fresh paint, or spoil.  Nothing.  Not even an air freshener. 

“Okay.  Care to explain these rules to me?”  Scott was irritated.  Seeing two beautiful places, each offering equally exciting pleasures, and he was told not to go in.  How was he supposed to be patient when given these kinds of opportunities?  Well, if these rooms held these types of adventures, he figured it was worth being patient for, and polite.

He was beginning to get excited to see what these other doors might hold behind them.

“You may pick any door you wish.  All doors lead to the same place.  But not all of them are a good path.  Some look more appealing than they really are.  Others look horrible, but are really much better than that.  Understand, once you pick a door, you may not return.  Understand also, a paradise that doesn’t change can be a hell of its own.”

Scott was surprised to find he had been pacing, but he wasn’t any longer.  He pulled the phone from his ear, and looked at the display in disbelief.  He put it back to his face.

“What do you mean?  How can two women in lingerie be less appealing than they seem?  How can an unchanging beautiful meadow be hell?”  There was no answer on the phone.  Did I pick the wrong questions again?  “What is the final destination?  What place do all the doors lead to?”

“Ahhh!  That is indeed a good question!”  Scott waited.  Silence continued for what seemed to be an eternity. 

Annoyed, he said, “Well?  What is the answer?”  Still there was no answer.  He pulled the phone back again, and saw that the display was lifeless.  He pressed the on button, but nothing happened.  He turned the phone over and pulled the case off.  There was no battery in the phone.

Fuck!

He stood there, trying to grasp everything around him.  How much time did he have to choose?  What if he got hungry or thirsty?  How can all doors lead to the same place if he spoke of being inside one of these rooms that don’t change?  Why would it matter?  The big question, how long would he have to be in the room before being allowed to continue on?

Scott decided he must have a look at more doors.  It was the only way to make an educated guess.  He looked across the hall, and walked over to the doors over there.  It was a good three paces away.  He looked into the small window.

There was a fire in the room.  A small child was in the center of it, and he was crying unstoppably.  The child looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.  He looked up at him, tears down his face, his skin red.  He held his arms out as if to be picked up. 

By instinct he put his hand on the door knob.  It wasn’t even warm to the touch.  This wasn’t real.  It couldn’t be.  He felt the door, still not feeling any warmth.  He peered into the window again, and saw the same scene.  Watching closely, he saw that the fire was not consuming anything.  Even papers on the floor weren’t blackening. 

This was not real. 

He knew he had to be careful.  He didn’t know at what point his choosing a room was his final choice.  Was it the minute he pulled the door open a little bit?  Was it when he entered the room?  Or was it when the door shut behind him?  What would happen if he opened the door, pulled the child out, and then ran out before the door shut again?  What would happen if he was stuck in a burning building for who knows how long?  No, he needed to explore other doors before making a decision.  Honestly, he knew that the more doors he looked through, the wiser his choice would be.

He pulled away, and looked down at himself.  Again, he was wearing different clothes.  This time, he was wearing jeans, and a sweater jacket with a hood.  It was beginning to not surprise him anymore.

He went a few steps over to the next door on the left, and cautiously peered through.  Inside was an ocean.  The window on the door seemed to be about five feet about the water.  Scott saw shark fins in the water.  He pulled away, confused.  Who in his right mind would choose that door?  It made no sense. 

His clothes were now swimwear.

He went one more door to the left, and looked in.  Behind this door, there was a bedroom.  There was a thin plasma TV on the wall at the foot of the bed.  There was also a dresser underneath it, with various large empty glass vials on it.  There was a young couple arguing as well.  She was at the side of the bed, while the man was by the dresser.  They were both sweating from heat or anger, he couldn’t tell.  His hand was gripping one of the vials. 

He’s going to throw it at her.

His muscles were clenched, and Scott kept waiting for the glass to break.  The man was screaming at her, but Scott couldn’t hear any sound.  He had no idea what the words were.  She was also yelling back at him.  He kept lifting the vial, then putting it down, over and over again.  His veins on his forehead were showing. 

Scott pulled away.  He didn’t want to watch anymore.  It’s not real, he told himself once again.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  Walking slowly, he went to the next door to his right, and peered inside.

Darkness.  Total darkness.  He could see nothing.  He pulled away, confused.  Scott rubbed his eyes, and looked through again.  The darkness remained. 

There’s no way in hell I’m going through that door! 

He found himself wondering once again who would pick that door, and why. He took a step back, thinking.  He forced himself not to look at his clothes this time.  He didn’t want to know what he might be wearing in that darkness.

Morbid curiosity got the better of him, and he went back to the door with the arguing couple.  Were they still there?  Had the man thrown the vial yet?  Looking in, he saw that nothing had changed.  The argument persisted.  The man’s hand did too. 

That was important information.  Scott had been worried that in this insane place, the doors might change.  He felt it was important to know he could come back and make a decision later, that it didn’t have to be immediate.

Scott felt around inside his pockets.  Originally, his pockets had been empty, except for the plain red phone.  Now they were not.  In his left jeans pocket, his cigarettes and lighter were still in there.  In his right one, his keys remained.  Checking his back pocket, even his wallet was still there.  He pulled it out, opened it, and flipped through the pictures.  They were all the same.  That was a relief.

He looked down.  He was now wearing blue jeans, a plain, black t-shirt, and tennis shoes.  What the fuck?

His clothes were changing with the rooms he looked into.  Huh.

He took his keys out and scratched a line into the door.  After doing so, he realized he had made the number one.  Perfect.  He walked over to the door with the screaming child in the fire, and scratched a two.  That was more difficult, so he settled for two straight lines. 

He pulled back, looking at his handiwork.  He was very satisfied with it.  He was about to place his keys back into his pocket when he remembered the first two doors he looked into.  He turned around, and went to one of the doors.  Which one was it?

He looked into a peephole of the closest door.  He saw a beach in the middle of the day.  There were a few people there, not many.  The waves looked like perfect surfing waves.  He saw one couple walking by, hand in hand, along the surf.  He even saw some seagulls flying about.  There was a surfboard stuck in the sand very close to the door, an empty, dry wetsuit hanging off of it.  Scott figured that would be for him. 

He pulled back.  Surfing was not really his thing, but he had always wanted to try it.  He went over to the next door on the left, and found the two women.  He marked three straight lines on that door.  He left the first door alone, the one with the meadow. 

Scott stepped back, looking at his work.  All three doors marked were easy to see.  They hadn’t disappeared or changed as his clothes had.  The other doors were perfect in the sense that there was no chipped or scratched paint anywhere.  But the marks he made were consistent. 

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter.  Putting a cigarette in his mouth, he tried lighting his cigarette, but the lighter only sparked.  He shook it.  There was plenty of fluid left in there, but try as he might, he could not produce a flame.

Okay, one less tool that I have.  What’s the point of giving me this stuff if it doesn’t even work?  At least the keys were useful.

Sighing, he put the pack of cigarettes and the lighter back in his left pocket.  They might prove useful later on, he supposed.  He looked back at the doors he had marked.

Door one was the couple arguing, it was on the right.  Door two was the child in the fire, it was also on the right.  Door number three was the one with the two women in lingerie, which was on the left.  Wait a minute…

Beside the door with the couple fighting was the shark infested ocean.  Beside that was a door with complete darkness.  He looked to his left, pointing to each door as he thought of what was behind it.        

Meadow…  women…  beach…

The doors on one side (his left side) were all pleasant, while the doors on the other side were all fearful.  Thinking he saw a pattern, he began frantically searching the doors on his left side.

Forest and camping…  Xbox 360 with headset…  Donut shop with sign that says free, custom donuts… 

He went to the other side.

Sick looking beach with dying animals drenched in oil…  Pool with baby about to fall in trying to reach a floating ball…  A medieval torture chamber with a few prisoners, one being tortured…

What was the point of this?  Why organize the doors the way they were?  Why would he choose a bad door versus a good door?  Why place them the way they were.  If each door led to the same place, why would you choose a bad one over a good one?

 The answer to that question was obvious.  It was a test of character.  Would you put yourself in danger to help a child burning in a building?  Would you run into a bedroom with a violent person twice your size, with a weapon in hand, about to hurt a woman?  Not only was this a test of character, but also tells whoever is watching who you are.  

 If I choose a door with a burning child over the woman about to get hurt, what might that say about myself as a person.  If I chose the two women in lingerie over helping that woman? 

 It was obvious.  This was a test, not only of character, but of core values.  If you are the selfish type, what kind of vices would you indulge yourself in?  If you were the valiant type, do you value a woman over a child?  He wasn’t sure how the sharks and the darkness went into the equation, but he was sure there was something.

 Helping sick animals means you care about the helpless, possibly the environment as well.  Saving the baby from the pool means you value the life of an innocent child.  Saving the child from a burning building means you value the life of a child over your own.  Saving the woman means you are more concerned about the woman than you are about the child being hurt, or yourself.

 Ahh.  So it also showed what you valued most.  A child, a woman, or a baby?  And with the number of doors in this place, who knew how many scenarios there was to choose from???

 Right then and there, Scott made the decision that whatever happened, he would choose from the negative side of the room.  He only had to decide what and who he wanted to save the most.

 Of course, looking through various rooms wouldn’t necessarily help him with that decision.  On the other hand, he had to decide what bugged him the most, didn’t he?  Eventually, something would hit him and he’d have to intervene, right?  So it might even be better to look through as many rooms as he could.  That would allow this test of character be true. 

 It was hard to convince himself that he was going to go through a negative door when the people inside didn’t even really exist.  He worked on convincing himself it wasn’t so.  It wouldn’t be a true test of character if he knew they weren’t, because he would never care enough to sacrifice himself.

 How do I know that what I choose doesn’t affect someone in real life?  For all I know, those stories of guardian angels might very well be people in this hallway choosing the negative side.  That might even be why there isn’t a lot of stories about guardian angels.  Very few people would figure this out and choose to help someone at the cost of themselves.

 For a moment, Scott wondered if choosing the negative was a bad idea.  How long would he be consumed in fire or torture while waiting to leave to the place all doors lead to?  Scary thought.

 Shaking his head to remove the doubts and fears, he walked over to the negative side once again, and began looking through each door.  The atrocities were horrible.  They were barbaric.  While looking through one door of starving kids being cut up by soldiers, he vomited on the floor in front of it.  Who deserves his help the most?  If it is based on real life, he had to make the right choice.  Who needed and deserved his help the most?  He couldn’t fight off a soldier, could he?  Who was he to choose that a starving kid who couldn’t get food deserved his help more than a battered woman? 

 Again, he reminded himself he was looking for the one. 

 Scott spent a long time looking through doors.  He had no concept of how long it was, but at one point, he had been counting the doors he looked through, and lost his count somewhere after 1,000. 

He would not let himself look on the positive side.  He did not want to tempt himself with choices over there.  He was certain that he had to help someone.  He would be someone’s guardian angel.  He would find the one person he couldn’t stand to watch get hurt.

It was exhausting work.  It seemed like he had been searching all his life for the one door that would mark his character.  He just might have been searching all his life, for all he knew.  He never got hungry or tired, and he had no reference for the amount of time he spent here.  His clothes had changed a number of times while he was here, too.  Black jeans.  Polo shirt.  New things in his pockets kept appearing.  At one point, he did have a working lighter, but no cigarettes.  It was the reverse later on as well. 

After what seemed an eternity, he peered through a door, and his heart leapt into his chest.  He had found it.  And true enough, there was no thinking involved.  He did not think or care of the consequences of his actions.  He didn’t care if he survived this.  He could not allow this to happen. 

Once he had opened the door, the hallway completely disappeared, and he was alone in the room with the woman on the bed, and the attacker over her.

                “Get the fuck off my wife!”  Scott screamed at the attacker. 

                The man didn’t even notice him.  He was engrossed in his activities, trying to get himself into her.  Scott’s wife looked at him , pleading with her eyes.  She had begun to give up the fight, but seeing Scott seemed to rejuvenate her. 

                She began pushing the man away, moving her legs in such a way that he couldn’t control her very well.  He renewed his efforts, and she started to scream and cry all at once. 

                Scott saw red.  Again, his actions felt no consequence.  He thrust himself at the man, falling right through him.  What the hell?  The woman breathed deep, feeling hopeless once more.  Scott looked at her, made eye contact.  The man did not see her, but his wife obviously did.  He nodded his head, and said, “I will not give up.  You will be safe.”  Her eyebrows bunched up.  She couldn’t hear him. 

                Crying again, and shaking her head, she renewed her efforts.  Scott became enraged.  He walked over to the attacker, and tried to grab him again, but his hand passed through.  Damn it!  Was this the punishment?  He would have to watch this happen, helpless to do anything?

                She was beginning to lose the fight again.  Scott concentrated, and reached his hand toward the man.  His hand went through, but his understanding of the man was beginning to form.  He could feel the man’s pulse running through his veins.  He felt the man’s anger.  He could even fell his heart beating, physically in his chest. 

                At first, Scott tried to push thoughts into the man.  Thoughts of calmness, and regret.  The man was responding, but not very well.  Or did Scott not want the man to just stop?  Maybe Scott was unable to properly stop the man because he had revenge on his mind.  This is my wife!

                No.  Scott wanted the man to suffer and die.  Getting him to stop was not nearly enough. 

                Scott focused his anger more intensely.  The man responded with more anger than before, and his strength increased.  Scott’s wife was very close to losing this fight.  

                Scott put his hand around the man’s heart.  He could feel it beating in his hand.  It was warm, pulsing.  He gripped it, and actually felt the heart in all its physical glory.  Yes.  This is it.  Redemption at last.  This man would not get away with this now, nor ever again.

                “This is for everything you’ve done to her, and anyone else!”  Scott screamed.

                He squeezed his hand, and the man suddenly got weaker.  His wife gave him one final push, and the man toppled back, falling to the foot of the bed on his back.  Scott had lost his grip on the man, him falling back through him. 

                Scott got on top of the man, straddling him.  His legs and knees stayed on the bed just fine, but the man’s legs went right through him.  That was fine for what Scott had in mind.  Looking down, seeing the man naked, Scott smiled at his lost erection.  He reached down, got a firm grip on the testicles, and squeezed with all his might. 

                The man doubled over instantly, making Scott lose his grip.  Tears showed in his eyes.  He was choking, coughing.  He was in unbearable pain, but Scott had no intention of quitting.  Even his wife, now getting her clothes together, watched with fascinated horror. 

                Scott reached into the man’s chest, and pinched his air hole.  The man squirmed, but this time Scott’s hand remained stable. He was able to keep his grip, and the man’s eyes were beginning to bulge.  He could almost feel the air trying to go through the airway.  One thing he definitely felt was the man’s terror at his soon to be demise. 

                Belatedly, he realized his wife might get blamed for the man’s death, since she wasn’t exactly raped in this attack.  He left off as the man’s lips were turning purple. 

                He gasped.  One hand holding his crotch, the other holding his throat, he looked wild eyed at Scott, with pleading in his eyes. 

                Ahh.  So now you can see me.

                “No.  No.  No.  Please…”  The man was pleading for his life, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper.  Scott smiled, and gave him the finger.  The man began to panic.  He toppled off the bed, pushing himself against the far wall, trying to go through it even to get away from this specter that was upon him. 

                Even if he could have gone through the wall, it would’ve done him no good.  Scott reached his fist out, grabbed the man’s heart, and squeezed with all his might.  The heart stopped pumping, and his eyes went wild again.  He took the hand holding his throat and clutched his chest.  His breathing was quick and shallow.  He knew what was coming.

                “Please.  Please.”  The man wheezed.  Scott barely heard him.  He could hear his wife behind him, sobbing.  But she gave no signs of disapproval.  It didn’t matter.  He wasn’t looking at her anyway.  He was too furious to do so.

                The hand that held his chest kept gripping at the air just above it.  He was trying to get his fist around Scott’s arm.  But there was nothing for him to hold onto.  Slowly, the man’s wheezing stopped.  He slumped down, and his body relaxed.  It took a huge force of will, but Scott released the man’s heart.  It did not start beating again.

                He turned around, looked at his wife.  She was dressed again, tears rolling down her face.  He walked over to her slowly, his feet feeling heavy.  His legs didn’t want to move.  As he got closer to her, her tears came stronger.  He reached out his hand, touched the side of her face to remove the tears, but his hand went through.  He pushed his calmness into her, and visibly saw his success.

                “You are watching me?”  She asked.

                Scott nodded.  He wondered if this was real, and if it was, how long he had been gone.  He reached his arms out as if to hold her, and gave her his best invisible hug he could.  He then smiled at her, mouthed “I love you”, and took two steps back.  His legs were even heavier than before.  It felt like he was walking in water.  Nothing in his body wanted to move.  The room was dimming in a grey mist. 

                She became distressed, crying harder now.  “No!  No!  Don’t leave me!”  She was crying, begging.  She went to her knees, sobbing, not taking her eyes off of him.  “Not again!!!”  She screamed with all her force.  He blew a kiss toward her, crying himself.  Then the room was gone. 

                He couldn’t count the amount of time he was in the grey mist.  It felt like an eternity.  He had no body that he could see.  He didn’t feel cold or heat.  The air was still.  He realized after a time that he wasn’t even breathing.  He was lost, alone, in an endless field of gray.  No sights, no smells, no sounds. 

                He seemed to be floating there, in nothingness.  There was absolutely nothing to see, nothing to think.  He was alone with his last memory of his wife, now his widow, mourning his death.  Scott tried to remember.  How had he died?  What had happened to him?  Why was that man in his bedroom?  Except it wasn’t his bedroom.  How long had he been gone?  Was it the man’s bedroom?  Why was his widow with him?

                Jealousy raged through him, but was soon calmed by the memory of her eyes.  She had pleaded for him to stay.  Regardless of why she was there, or why the man was there, or even where they were, she wanted him back.  Wanted him with her entire soul.  He felt a calmness, an ease at that thought. 

                He thought harder.  How had he died?  He remembered reading a long time ago that it takes the brain about 30 seconds to move short-term memory into long-term memory.  Was it possible he had no recollection because his brain did not have time to retain it?  No.  That made no sense.  If he was dead, and living in some afterlife, then his brain shouldn’t matter.  His soul or spirit would have retained whatever there was.  Maybe it was God or whoever was so merciful that they didn’t allow the person to remember their death.  In that sense, it was probably a relief.  No Trauma at the memory once he was gone.

                Scott tried to recall his last memory before the hallway, but he found he couldn’t.  He remembered his life, the people he loved, but nothing as far as recent events.  Everything felt so far away, so long ago. 

                He noticed the grayness all around him was taking a shape.  It moved, like he was in a mist.  He blinked his eyes, astonished to find he had eyes again.  He looked down, and his body was slowly forming again.  How long had he been without it?  He wasn’t sure.

                The mist was thick.  He couldn’t see very far in it, but slowly it parted.  He tried peering through it, waving his hands and arms to try to speed up its movement.  Nothing would speed it up.  He tried to take a step, but found that he was not standing on anything.  His feet dangled in the mist.  He sighed.  Well, he’d waited this long.  Might as well enjoy this ride.

                An image came before him.  He saw his wife with their daughter.  She didn’t look very much like their daughter.  She was all grown up now.  But somehow he knew it was his oldest.  She was holding flowers, and placing them on the ground.  Then his two other girls came up and did the same.  They all held hands, said a prayer together that he couldn’t hear, and then pulled each other close for a large family embrace.  Scott felt hot tears on his cheeks.  He wiped them away, not wanting to lose this image of them.  He didn’t want his tears to blur the image one bit, and he was afraid that it might blur right out of existence.

                After wiping his eyes clear, the image was gone.  He almost panicked, until he recognized the new scene before him.  There was a baby being cradled in a woman’s arms.  She was older, perhaps in her 50s or 60s.  He recognized her again.  It was his wife.  His youngest girl came up, picked the baby up, and put it on the table.  She started to change its diaper.  To his fascination, he saw it was a boy.  More recognition.  He was a grandfather.  He saw a picture of himself on the table where the baby was being changed.  It was old, ripped slightly on the corner in the frame.  But it was unmistakable.  It was him.

                Another vision, his middle child getting married.  She was beautiful, and her husband was very handsome.  Looking into their eyes, they were both completely in love.  Scott’s brother was giving the bride away.  Scott nodded his head, approving.  His brother was also much older. 

                The gray mist condensed again, and the visions were gone.  Scott was crying helplessly, and verbally thanked whoever or whatever was responsible for the gift that was received.  He knew, at that moment, he would never see them again.  He was so happy to see them one more time.

                His eyes were closed.  He didn’t remember closing them, but they were closed now.  He opened them.  He was in a bed.  It was warm inside.  He wasn’t in any blankets, but was perfectly comfortable.  He looked over at a bedside table, and saw a picture of his entire family.  His old wife, three daughters with their husbands, and lots of toddlers and small children, all gathered next to each other for this picture.  He smiled.  Another gift. 

                He looked around.  Nothing was recognized.  The curtains on the window were perfectly matched, however.  He couldn’t have picked a better one.  There was a glass of ice water on the table next to his picture.  He sat up and sipped it.  It was the best water he had ever tasted.  He checked his pockets.  They were empty now.  He sighed.

                He opened the drawer of the nightstand, and found all of his possessions there. 

                “Who put these here?”  He wondered aloud, then realized how stupid the question really was.  That was his first thought?  Not where was he?  But who put his stuff there?  Incredible, he thought to himself.

                The door opened.  A man walked in, not any older than Scott himself was.  He sat down silently in the chair next to his bed.  He looked at Scott, a blank expression on his face.  Scott stared back.  The silence became deafening, uncomfortable.

                “Well?”  Scott asked.

                “That’s the wrong question.  I thought you were smarter than that.”  The man said.  It was the same voice from his phone.  Scott’s eye brows rose up in surprise.  He didn’t look like anything that he imagined when he first heard his voice. 

                “Are you going to open up more to me?  Now that I’ve picked a door, fought my way here?  Are you going to tell me who you are and where I am?  What is going on?”

                The man smiled broadly.  He even gave a light chuckle. 

                “You’ve earned that.”  The man said.  “No matter how many times, no matter how many people I’ve seen, I’m always amazed at the first response.”

                “Was mine that original?”  Scott asked.

                “They always are.”  The man said.

                Scott didn’t press the issue.  Honestly, he didn’t really care.  He wanted the answers more than a chit-chat with this person.

                “Okay.  I’ll answer your questions now…”  The man said.

                “Great.  So, the first one.  Where am I?”

                “You are in the final destination.  The one place that everyone goes to when they’re finished.”

                “Finished with what?”  Scott asked.

                “Finished with what they have to do.”  The man replied.  Scott bunched his eyebrows together.  “Confusion.  Okay.  Let me explain.

                “You were right about a lot of things.  Yes, the memory of your death is removed for obvious reasons.  The last thing you want is to ruminate on how you died, whether painful or not.  Can you imagine a torture victim’s afterlife?  No, it must be removed for these reasons, from everyone.

                “The second thing you were right about is that the hallway is a test.  A test of character.  Are you a selfish man, or are you the type who will knowingly sacrifice bliss for others?  You passed that test.  Although, truthfully, all doors lead here.”

                “About that,” Scott said, “what does that mean?  Why the test of character if you are just going to end up here?”

                “Do you remember my warning to you on the phone?”  The man’s eyebrows raised in question.  He waved his hand, “C’mon.  What was it?  You remember it.”

                “You told me that even paradise gets old if you’re there long enough.” Scott answered.

                “Yes.  That’s right.  I’ve seen it enough times to know it is true.  If you had chosen to stay in the meadow, you would’ve been there a very long time.  Long enough for you to not just be bored, but wish that you could die.  Even then, release is not given.  Release for the selfish souls is given when they are almost insane with their boredom.  This usually takes a few years.”

                “Wow.”  Scott said.  He couldn’t imagine being in that wonderful meadow for years at a time, with nothing but the breeze to keep you company.  How long at the beach surfing before he gets tired of it?  How long with two beautiful women before he began to hate them?

                “The ones who choose to help, well, are given their reward immediately.  Well, almost.”

                “Almost?  What was the point of the gray mist?”

                “It is necessary.  Call it a transition.  Despite other reasons, one main goal is to allow time for your feelings to calm.” 

                “Okay.”  Scott said, sighing.  That made sense.  “So, were the visions true?”

                The man waited, eyes to the ceiling in a gesture of pondering his next answer.

                “Scott, how long would you say you’ve been dead?  How long did you spend in that hallway?  How long were you in the gray mist?”

                Scott scratched his head, a nervous twitch he had a habit of since he was small.  Biting the inside of his cheek, he had a hard time placing any timeframe on what he’d been through.

                “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

                “That is a good answer.  Hypothetically, do the dead experience time in any different way than the living do?”

                Scott pondered this for a time.  If they did, then he was in the gray mist for over a generation.  He had a hard time believing that.  But without any reference to the number of days, who could tell?  It certainly didn’t feel like he was there for a long time.  Can the dead travel in time?  Are they given glimpses of the future?  He supposed anything was possible.  Wasn’t living after death proof of that?  When he said as much, the man nodded thoughtfully.

“Indeed.  Anything is possible with God.  Did you see the future?  Was it given to you? Or did you actually wait in that mist for over a generation?  Was it even real?”

Scott stopped breathing at that thought.  Cautiously, his next question came out, nice and slow.

“So…  Was my wife being raped?  Did I really help her?  Or was that just a test of character?”

“Ahh!  That is indeed the central question, isn’t it?  The answer is yes.  Your wife was being raped by a man she had started dating after your death.  Although you thought it had been immediate, it was actually almost two years after your death.  She was still not over you.  When he pressed for intimacy, and she refused, he got violent.  You saved her.  After that incident, she never dated again.”

“Wait, what?”  Scott said.  “So, I was in that hallway for two years?”

“No.  But the door was a doorway to the future.  Really, the hallway is timeless.  While you are not allowed to change the past, you are allowed to influence the future.  At least, the future from the moment of your death.  What future could there possibly be in a timeless place?

“She actually did see you.  For that moment, you were her guardian angel, and you protected her from a horrible future.  Because of your intervention right then, it changed the rest of her life.  It became a much more enjoyable life, versus the painful and horrid one that was confronting her originally.”

Scott was panting now.  He was astonished, if that was powerful enough of a word.  Everyone who ever existed always dreams of making a difference in the world.  He had made a difference to the one person that meant the most to him.  The one who gave him his 3 beautiful children.  Who knows what kind of pain he had saved the 4 of them from as well.

“Exactly.”

Scott looked up, forgetting for a moment that his mind was readable by this person.

“I saved my children too?”

“Yes.  You did.  You were their guardian angel for the most critical moment in their lives after you passed away.  Their mother’s rape.  Most are selfish, and their loved ones suffer for it.  But here you are, and you have been given your reward.”

Scott looked around him again, at the bedroom he was in.

“What exactly is this reward?” 

“Anything you want it to be.”

The room transformed into the beautiful meadow he had seen in the first door.  It was exactly as he remembered it, down to the last blade of grass.  Then it changed again to the beach scene.  He was lying in the hot sand, the surfboard with the wetsuit was nearby.  He thought about his wife and kids, how they were missing this.  Suddenly, the room was a perfect representation of a memory of his.  So clear, that he was sure it was more accurate than he remembered.

Scott looked over at the man, who was no longer there.  It didn’t matter.  He had all the answers he needed.  And he knew that he could call the man back whenever he so chose.