The Empty Corridor

When his eyes opened he found himself standing in the empty corridor once again. The walls on either side were colored a modern gray. It was the sort of color you'd expect in some corporate building. The floor was covered in white tile. It was an interesting juxtaposition as far as he was concerned. The tiles made no sense in conjunction with the gray walls. About every three feet on either side the walls were interrupted by mahogany doors. Each door was flanked by an unlit sconce.
This pattern continued seeming indefinitely, but far off was the faintest sign of the light. He had traversed this empty corridor many times in his life, but he had never made it to the very end.
"I wonder..." He wondered aloud. His voice echoed hauntingly throughout the empty corridor and that never failed to send a cold shiver down his spine. "Shall I make it to the very end this time?"
The empty corridor mocked him by repeating his question back to him several times. He shook his head and began to walk. His shoes echoed loudly on the white tile as he walked. To someone listening from afar it might sound like an army was approaching. But, it was just one 20 year old man named Frankie. He was dressed in Converse sneakers, faded blue jeans, and a Caravan Palace t-shirt. His hair was was a tidy mess of chocolate brown. His eyes were like twin emeralds. His face was neatly shaven.
The first time Frankie had come to the empty corridor he'd tested every door he passed, but they never opened. "What good is a door that leads nowhere?" He had questioned previously. His questions were only ever answered by the sarcastic echo of the empty corridor.
It was enough to drive him mad sometimes. He would spend hours in the corridor some days. Other days he would spend a scant few minutes. The days where he spent hours in the corridor were the worst because towards the end he always felt he was on the cusp of finally reaching the end. Sometimes he tried to run, but whenever he did so he would find himself back in his bed.
There had to be a reason his mind kept taking him to this empty corridor, and he was determined to figure out what it was. A long corridor with doors that led nowhere. The doors never changed. They were always mahogany with two sconces resting on either side.
Frankie had already been in the empty corridor for thirty minutes when he suddenly stopped walking. Looking at that faint light at the end of the empty corridor he realized he was seemingly no closer than he had been when he first appeared. It was like that sometimes. Other times the light seemingly grew larger and he could even see it splash across the gray walls and white tile.
"Damn it," he cursed. "I'm tired of wandering through this empty corridor with doors that lead nowhere. Every time I think I'm getting close to an answer it's ripped away from me. This. Isn't. Fair!" He kicked the wall and was surprised by the sharp pain that surged through his foot. The pain caused him to fall upon his backside.
Suddenly the sconces on the walls lit up fiercely. The mostly darkened corridor was suddenly lit up like a house that regained power following a particularly volatile storm. As he listened he heard clicks as if locks were being turned. Following these clicks every door opened up on either side of the walls.
Frankie couldn't believe what was happening. He simply stared with awe. What else was going to happen? He waited. And waited. And waited. But nothing happened. Frankie pouted briefly as he slowly got back to his feet.
Just ahead of him were two of the doors that had opened. He decided to visit the door on the left and finally find out what had been hidden from him every time previously. Frankie was nervous, and his heart hammered. His footsteps no longer echoed. Everything suddenly seemed too quiet. The back of his throat was dry. He placed his hand on the doorknob. It was surprisingly warm.
He pulled the door all the way open and his eyes widened at the sight in front of him. There was a man standing there. He looked a lot like Frankie but he was wearing some clothes that would have been befitting of a Medieval fair or something.
"You always wondered what was behind each door," the man told Frankie. "These doors were always closed when you tried to open them. Now you know they were never truly closed to you."
Frankie's eyebrows knitted together as he frowned.
"What are you on about? Who are you? Why do you look like me, and what is this place?"
The man laughed quietly. When he finished laughing a serene smile remained on his lips.
"I do believe the answer is simple to each of those questions. I am you, but a version of you that died a long time ago. This place is the home of your soul. Behind each door is a fragment of your soul. Each fragment experienced so many things. Every time you die a fragment is laid here to rest. When you die that cycle shall be repeated."
Frankie didn't understand a word the man was telling him. None of it made any sense. This man seemed to imply that reincarnation was real.
"I didn't know humans were reincarnated," Frankie said at last.
"Humans aren't," the man said, his smile fading. He suddenly looked so very tired. It was as if this conversation had begun to drain him. "You are reincarnated. You alone. You are special, Frankie. You always wondered why you could never reach the end of the empty corridor, correct?"
Frankie nodded.
"That's because when you reach the end of the corridor your soul will be complete. Every experience in every life will make you whole again. The universe needs you to become whole again."
Frankie's forehead was beaded with sweat. He didn't quite understand what the man was telling him. But he had a feeling it was something very, very important. He had only one last question.
"Why do I need to be whole again...for the universe?"
The man stretched his arms out wide as if to embrace all of creation.
"Because you are God. You sought to fragment your soul so that you could be reborn with a greater sense of appreciation for human struggle. At times when the light is brightest at the end of the tunnel your heart is finding some of the divinity you've lost. But you have a long way to go before you're ready to be God again."
Frankie had so many things he wanted to say.
"That-"
He blinked and when his eyes opened he was sitting up in bed. Moonlight spilled across his blanket and the red numbers on his alarm clock told him it was 11:58 PM.
"That can't be right..." He finally muttered. It had to have been a dream. He climbed out of bed and walked over to his bedroom door. He started to pull it open but it opened seemingly on its own. Standing in front of his open doorway was someone who looked a lot like he did. Beyond the male who looked a lot like him were the gray walls and white tiled floor of the empty corridor.

Comments