Peril

Lungs aching, throat dry, and gasping for air, Drake found a place to rest a while in the dark. Days upon nights stacked in his memory of running. No one was ever around to save him and he always had to hide, an endless nightmare that he would not be able to forget.

The twisted tunnel Drake was cautiously maneuvering around in smelled of musty mold and decay. Parts of the tunnel were so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Crawling on his hands and knees left bruises and cuts that hurt so bad he felt like giving up. He knew he had to push on to make it. What lay ahead of him had to be better and being better, was all he ever wanted.

Drake had a hard life growing up. Part from the way he was raised and part because he was being rebellious. He recalled when he started doing drugs. He felt so alone and that no one wanted him, the drugs made him feel so alive that he could do anything. Darkness crept in and blackouts took over his life. He was in and out of jail for breaking and entering and for beating people up over stupid stuff. He fled to the streets to live. One too many times of shooting up he had died. What he saw when he died was an afterlife of doing the Devils deeds and the torture that he would have to endure.

Drake was Brought back to life from a First Responder. He knew then it was time to straighten out his life.

Months of rehabilitation and counseling took hold. He seemed to have turned his life around. He was faced from time to time with going back to his old ways, but he would think of the torture he saw when he died. This scared him enough that he would not take the temptation of shooting up. He feared what would happen to him if he didn’t right what he had wronged. Drake found as many people as he could that he had offended or hurt and apologized. Some forgave him and sent blessings his way, while others didn’t give him the time of day.

Drake got a job at a car wash during the day and cooked at night. He spent any extra time he had doing charitable work. The thoughts that plagued him were would he really be forgiven for doing good? Would he be able to do enough to undo the pain and suffering he caused in his earlier life to have a peaceful death? Would it even matter if he was doing it for selfish reason just so that he wouldn’t have to face the suffering?

The tunnel began to lighten up enough for Drake to make out the crumbly walls and stalactites. He stood up slowly allowing his joints and muscle to recover from being crouched for so long. The tunnel widened out and curved to the right where he was able to see what was creating the light.

Two doors stood side by side glowing. One door was white, dry, and felt warm to the touch. The other was dark, clammy, smelled of sulfur, and was cold. He had three options, one was to go back the way he came from, and the other two options were the doors. He did not want to go back to the life of constantly looking over his shoulder. That is why he was running in the tunnel. One of his old drug dealers was chasing him down for an unpaid debt.

The obvious choice would be the white door. It was his first choice and the only one that made sense. Drake grabbed the warm metal doorknob and hesitated. Could it be this simple? Why wouldn’t anyone not go through the better door? Is this playing tricks on the mind and it is actually the wrong decision? He let go of the doorknob and put his ear up to the door to listen. Nothing, not a single noise to let him know if anything was on the other side. Hesitantly he put his ear on the cold clammy door, nothing there either.

“Hello.” Drake knocked on the white door. Hearing nothing once more he tried knocking on the clammy door. No response. Alone to make his own decision.

Drake sat there remembering the one and only person who was there to save him was that First Responder. It was his job to save people it wasn’t like they were friends or anything. How sad was that?

If this was a path least traveled thing than the clammy door would be the better pick after all who would want to go through that creepy cold thing? If this was a make better choice thing, then the white door would be better because the feeling was warm and happy.

Drake watched as a glow bug crawled out of the white door keyhole, flew into the clammy door keyhole, and disappeared. I wonder if both these doors lead to the same place?

He opened the white door. Warm light and a comforting breeze filled the room. Trees and flowers went on forever. The mountain range had a little snow on top and a nice dirt road leading away from the door. Should I even bother opening the other door? As Drake opened the clammy door the white one slammed shut. It appeared to be the same scenery but it was night and the moon lit the dirt road that lead away from the door.

The white door would no longer open it apparently jammed shut when it slammed. Drake only had the one option, the cold clammy door that smelled. He stood close and felt a cold breeze tug on him. A feeling of dread came over as he was sucked through the door. He grabbed the handle only for it to tear off in his hands as he flew through it. His scream filled the air and slowly dissipated into the wind as his body disappeared into the sky.