The Last Door

“One should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly.” Friedrich Nietzsche

 

The Last Door

The moon shone in a pitch-black sky, its brightness lighting up an otherwise dark, urban vista. Headlights swept across a driveway, casting beams onto the front of a large house on the edge of suburbia. The journey back from his office in Manhattan was invariably a chance to decompress. With the yellow, Porsche Cabrera tucked away in a double-garage, Steve Johnson made his way through a side door, into a hallway and onwards to his lounge. It had been a long day and he needed a Scotch; the time was already getting on for 3am. He fell backwards onto a leather sofa, shadows cast by a tall lamp in the corner of the room. A glass, coffee table sat on top of a white rug surrounded by a polished, wooden floor. A large fire place with an alabaster, stone hearth sat with kindling stacked in a scuttle ready to be lit.

Steve raised his cut-glass tumbler to his lips, drinking in the quiet of early morning. He played the day back in his head. He was the CEO of a social media company and a successful one at that. Now in his 50s he still treasured the drive he had to be the best; the best of the best. With eyes closed, his arms were spread wide with the glass of whisky still clutched in one hand, gently resting. He needed sleep. Under normal circumstances, bedtime would end up around midnight but there had been so much to do.

Sipping his scotch, Steve eased himself upright again with thoughts of heading for the back door. Every night he would check to ensure everything was locked up before programming the alarm. Before that, he would get Alexa to close off all curtains and drapes in the house. Steve noticed something in the corner of his eye. He stopped, mid-turn, and stared at the patio doors. To the left was the outline of a figure. He peered closer. Something was taking shape before his eyes. It was black which made it harder to make out in the low light.

“Alexa – turn lights on.”

Nothing happened. The thing that was taking form looked complete. It stepped forward from the darkness. Steve took a step back, ready to confront what appeared to be an intruder. The interloper had a narrow face with two, small horns protruding from its forehead. Its mouth was full of sharp teeth which formed a leering grin. Its legs were covered in fur with cloven hooves at the end. Whilst its torso was naked, the lower half appeared to be woollen, its entire body inky black.

“What the fuck are you?” exclaimed Steve in a hiss. He was torn between reaching for his mobile and dialling 911 and running as fast as he could right out of the house. He had a gun stashed away under the island in the kitchen. Either way, he was shocked by the sudden appearance.

The infiltrator looked like a devil. It continued to smile in a demonic way; wordlessly watching. It may have noted Steve’s handsome features, his rugged chin and cobalt, blue eyes. It may have been thinking how sartorial the man looked dressed in a casual, grey suit, white shirt and tie. If it did, it gave no indication; its expression was sinister.

“Right, you either tell me who you are RIGHT NOW or I call the cops.” Steve’s heart was beating furiously, cortisone pumping through his body.

As if things couldn’t get any stranger, next to the creature, the outline of a door had appeared within the glass of the patio. It was like a television screen had flickered into picture. It glowed with a white hue around its border, inside flickering amber, then red and then amber again.

Steve looked quizzically at the scene in front of him. For a split-second he considered the possibility that he was hallucinating. It was late and he was very tired. Maybe keeping long hours at the office did eventually catch up with you.

“There is no need to be alarmed. I mean you no harm. There are so many things to think about. What is a man’s life worth?” The words were coming from the devil-figure. Its voice was low, rasping and lyrical. Its tone was playful and, yet, ominous.

“Should we reconsider your value? There are options this night.” None of what the creature was saying made sense.

“So do you mind telling me who….or what you are?” Steve remained tense, quite non-plussed by the whole thing. Despite the bizarre nature of what had started, there was a sense of ease emanating from the creature. When he should have been shuffling backwards to retrieve his weapon from its concealed location, the fifty-something felt oddly compelled to listen. It was as though his body was frozen and yet he still had some control over his actions.

“Who I am is of no consequence. Here is the last door.” The devil waved a cloven hoof nonchalantly.

“You have until sunrise to walk through it. On the other side is contentment; at one with the Universe once more.”

The flummoxed businessman flopped back on the settee. Rubbing his eyes with fists scrunched into balls, he still hoped that this was all some kind of mirage. He would wake any minute; sitting straight up in bed confused as to the time. He looked up again; the ebony-skinned creature was still there, hovering a few inches from the ground.

“And why would I want to do anything like that?” The question was pointed and almost rhetorical.

“Consider your life and the choices taken. You thought about ending things once. Have you lived as you would have wished?”

Steve hadn’t thought about that time he had reached rock bottom in a long while; staring into the depths of a river contemplating throwing himself into the abyss. He had been close to jumping in. He had been a mere youth. Since then, his life had turned out for the better.

“I still don’t get this. I am the CEO of a major corporation, I own a beautiful home, I have a great car. I could go on…” The interloper just smiled, cocking its head to one side as it listened.

“Ah yes, indeed, But how did you acquire such wealth? Was it all done……shall we say…….ethically? Have you confessions to make?”

Steve pondered. He had been something of a low-life once. Mixed up in drugs. Since then he had been on the up and up. He had put the “E” in entrepreneur. It was true that a few eggs had been broken to make this omelette. He had bought fledgling companies before they had become too big a threat then rendered them insolvent. Others had done the same in years gone by. This was an accepted business strategy.

“Should I remind you of the past? Do you recall Bill Jones? He worked for you once.” The creature smiled serenely.

Once again, Steve’s mind whirred. Bill Jones, Bill Jones. Ah yes, he had been in charge of the business strategy unit some ten years ago. A decent, loyal employee who followed the company coda. He had been dismissed for underperforming in key areas when the truth of it was that Steve had found a younger man to replace him. Someone with more drive and ambition.

“I do remember Bill. A good man. He had come to the end of his useful tenure. I am sure he went on to be successful elsewhere.”

Within the glowing door an image appeared. It was of a balding man with a plump, friendly face. His expression was anguished. Sound kicked in. He was talking to someone. A woman was turning away from him. Walking into the distance. The sound of crying could be heard.

“This is the aftermath of your decision. Your loyal manager’s wife left him after he struggled to get employment elsewhere. He lost everything. His life eventually forfeit in a soulless motel room. His body danced its last jig from the end of a rope.”

Steve felt sick. He never gave it a second thought as to what might happen after he let employees go. They were part and parcel of the world of business decision making. However, Bill Jones was not his personal responsibility - was he?  

“I see you are evaluating your past actions. Business matters; all is fair in love and war. And especially when it comes to the corporate world. Bill Jones is merely one tragedy amongst others. But what of the corporeal world?” The challenge was subtle. The inference that the fate of his former employee had been replicated with others was chilling.

Again, the seated man wondered. Still frames flashed through his mind. He remembered a row with his wife. How he was accused of only being in love with his business. Giselle and the kids could go and do their own thing. And they would. Starting now. He had loved her, though. He still loved her. There was no question of fealty when it came to his children. He should have made more time for them. Why was he only realising this now?

“So many things to confess. So many wrongs to be righted.” The dark creature looked pleased with itself.

“Maybe you have a point but how does stepping through a doorway help any of this?” Steve felt anguish and disappointment. If this creature was trying to make him feel bad about himself, it was definitely winning.

“The door will lead to resolution. You will, once again, be at one with the Universe. There is peace waiting - a return to stardust.” The words sounded credible, soothing.

“This is all true but there should be balance.” This latest statement came from someone else.

To the right of the doorway, a further entity was appearing. It also was in the shape of a person. Its essence was of light, a gently glowing aura emanating from a body. It was hard to make out distinctive features other than the rudiments of a face. It was androgynous and ethereal; like a ghost.

“You have loved and given love, Steve. Remember those times. Think about why you lived when you could have died.” The voice was gentle, a quiet warmth at its heart.

He did recall that time again leaning over the bridge; watching the torrents cascade downstream. He had wanted to end it but had been saved by an angel. At least, that’s how he remembered it now. The voice of his deceased father had intervened at the crucial moment. He couldn’t be sure but the jump never happened and here we was still.

The reels playing in his head had changed. Now he could see his wedding day; kissing his new wife after being given permission by the preacher. He was standing in a hospital room just after his first born had emerged.  That drive home in the early hours of the morning, jubilant at having a son.

“I have done good things, haven’t I?” Steve stared at this second apparition. He felt unsure, conflicted.

“You have done those things that are part of being human. Remember..”

In a new memory, the scene was of a sidewalk covered in snow and ice. Piles had been formed from efforts to shovel pathways in front of shops. Steve was walking passed a doorway, huddled in an overcoat. A man was sitting, hunched and leaning forward, rocking to keep warm. He had looked across and stopped to talk to the homeless person, slipping him a twenty dollar bill as he left. Those random acts of kindness were more frequent than he recalled. 

The exchanges continued through the rest of the night. For every dark deed, there was a lighter moment to point out. The dark creature called up the incident with Eileen Spencer, an intern he had let go because she turned up late every Monday. She had cried for hours with her mother. There was John Moody whose business had been a successful start-up until Steve’s lawyers and chequebook interfered.  A dark, foreboding Christmas evening had seen him miss his son William’s school show because he was working late again.

On the credit side of the ledger was the time Steve had watched his daughter play Mary in a nativity play. He had taken the family out for dinner afterwards to celebrate. Then there was Ron Green, a young employee who he had coached through difficult times who, otherwise, wouldn’t have made it. And then there was the 10K run he had completed in 2015 and raised $10,000 for charity. Where there was yin, there seemed to be yang. Where there was darkness, there was light.

With morning approaching, the door was no longer any particular colour. Instead, it was becoming see-through. The green of the back-lawn, trees and bushes were appearing as silhouettes in the darkness. The first rays of sunlight were emerging on the horizon. It seemed that if Steve was to take up the offer of eternal peace by walking through the door, it was now or never. Both of the entities that had spent the night replaying his past had been slowly fading away over the last few minutes. It was possible to see right through both of them as their substance dissolved into the ether.

Steve stared at the door and started walking towards it. Maybe he didn’t deserve to go on after all. He had done bad things in his life. Maybe this was all about atonement. As he stood at liminal doorway, dawn was about to break. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and took a step forward, a step that would carry him over a threshold and into the unknown.

For a few seconds, he simply stood there wondering if his very being had become consumed. As he opened his eyes once more, he found himself standing on his back lawn. A few feet away was a low, brick wall. Below it were landscaped layers. Everywhere was covered in a layer of snow. On the wall, a robin sat singing its distinctive song. Steve looked at the bird and then back at the house. He was alive and well. It appeared that he had simply walked into his garden after all. He wondered whether any of the night’s events had, in fact, happened.

In reality, that step over the threshold had been a split second too late. The sun’s rays had lit up the sky at that exact moment. There could be no way of knowing whether that was subconsciously intentional or not. Maybe he had delayed just long enough…

Like every aspect of his life, an absolute value attributable to good and bad deeds could not be easily assigned. Every action led to a consequence that made any kind of polarisation less clear. Steve had simply tried to do the right thing based on circumstances and his feelings at the time, sometimes getting it right; other times getting it wrong. He thought about that as the chill from cold air made him shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself.

He thought about the events of the last few hours. Whether it had been real or not was open to debate. Perhaps, what wasn’t were the memories. He would try and live his life better than he had so far. That was within his gift. Maybe that is within everyone’s gift. Maybe that’s all we have.

 

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