The Book and Abyss

Motionless, I wearily opened my eyes to be greeted by expansive nothingness, devoid of all light that I had been accustomed to in a life bygone, my memories fading into the dark recesses of time. The pain, suffering, and agony that I had grown accustomed to throughout my life had vanished, remarkably, along with any ounce of happiness or joy that had remained. Surveying the landscape, I determined that the nothingness panned farther than any man dare venture. Resigning myself to an eternity of nothingness, I continued to motionlessly drift further into the void.

“Walker, Dwight,” Lulled the voice. I was snapped away from the void’s unyielding claws and blinded by a purifying light. Frantically, I outstretched my arm in hopes of discovering solid matter in my newfound surroundings, only to grasp the air in futility. The light consumed this plane much like darkness had consumed the void, masking my fingertips. Gasping, I hastily retracted my hand to find that, thankfully, my fingertips were still firmly attached to my hands. Surveying the vast landscape with great futility, I attempted to find the voice’s owner, eager to meet another being in what would otherwise be nothingness.

“Walker, Dwight,” The voice sternly repeated. I snapped my head in the direction it came from and began my trek, eager to have companionship in this light-filled void. Every step sent my body rebounding off the, what appeared to be, fibrous cotton balls, white as the light that encompassed much of the landscape.

“Walker, Dwight!” The voice boomed, its abysmal tone and growing impatience radiating throughout the plane. I rebounded off the rolling, fluffy fields, maniacally scanning my receding surroundings, desperate to locate the source of thunderous calls that penetrated my awaiting eardrums.

An eternity of running had passed, resulting only in the realization of my futility; still yet, I had not found the voice.

“For heaven’s sake, Walker, please turn around!” The voice proclaimed; its anger now apparent, driving a newfound fear into my being as I cautiously pivoted to face it. My mouth stood agape as I gazed above to find a towering podium of ancient oak, supporting a balding man, clothed in white, who stood fuming furiously. Atop the podium lie a book, bound in aged, black leather and etched with words of eons. Behind him lay gates of golden with the light dancing across the pristine surface, telling little of its age.

“W-What is this place?” I stammered in utter fear.

With a sigh, the man closed the book before droning, “I am Saint Peter, Guardian of the Afterlife and Father of Fates. From here, I judge who is fit to enter these gilded gates and rebuke those who are not. From this book, I may judge your life’s doings and determine which path is for you, Mister Walker…” he puzzledly drifted off, his crusted fingers having opened the ledger and trailing through its entries.

“Mister Walker, what exactly have you done?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Well, Mister Walker,” Saint Peter explained, “Within this ledger lies the complete history of every person that ever has and ever will exist, complete with their life’s doings. Every deed accounted for, both good and bad, yet when I arrive at your entry, Mister Walker, it’s blank.”

“B-Blank s-sir?” I croaked, shaking in complete dismay. How could my entry be blank? Surely, I had lived a life, done something noteworthy. “How can this be?”

“Well, Mister Walker, this clearly must be a mistake. Not only is it improbable that you have done nothing with your life, but it is also nigh impossible. Could you elaborate upon your life, Mister Walker?”

Realization had hit me with a truck, launching me off my knees and onto the awaiting ground. The reason I failed to recollect any event from my life was due to the fact that I had, in fact, done nothing. With eyes of tears, I looked upon Saint Peter and rambled incomprehensible nonsense.

“So…You have truly done nothing with your life? This must be an oversight on my part,” proclaimed Saint Peter as he rummaged around through his billowing robes, producing a device alien to me, “Stand back, Mister Walker.”

The golden gates flew open, beaming fourth unimaginable light and revealing a windy path that seemed wrought with promise. Its purity overwhelmed me, sending me back several paces before I could close my gaping mouth and wipe the flowing tears from my crusted eyes. Suddenly, the fibrous ground beneath me began to rumble and a crimson light began to seep out, consuming light once thought holy and pure. Impish laughter and crackling fire could be heard from its depths, sending my body reeling backwards and narrowly avoiding falling within its depths.

“This,” motioned Saint Peter, “Is ultimately your decision. Before you lie two paths, each with fates I am sure you are knowledgeable of. As I have no concrete record, save for a name, Mister Walker, of your existence, I have decided to let you choose your own path.”

Rising, I began to ponder the possibilities. Surely, the path beyond the pearly gates was ideal? But then, I continued, why resign myself to condemnation to an eternity unearned?

There could only be one solution, I concluded.

“Saint Peter, sir?” I inquired, peaking the undivided attention of the ancient figure, “Is there any way I could repeat my life anew? To live a life that I neglected to live?”

Grinning, he replied, “Indeed there is, Mister Walker. Though, you are the first to have asked.” Upon further examination of his person, Saint Peter withdrew an ivory infested chest, sealed with a lock of rusted iron. Then, reaching down his robe, the ancient figure unhinged a key, plunged it into the chest and thrust it towards me. In doing so, the opening widened, enough so that it could accommodate my entire body.

“If you choose to do so, Mister Walker, I can personally see to it that you can begin a life anew. Of course, I am obligated to inform you that choosing so will erase any recollection of our encounter. You will be born barren of knowledge like the millions that came before you and the millions that will come long after your passing. Your deeds will be judged in this new life objectively, and you will be placed subject before the very same trial that lay before you, except you will have no options.” Saint Peter solemnly concluded, before finally asking, “What is your decision, Mister Walker?”

Without hesitation, I proudly stated, “I choose life, Mister Saint Peter.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” he grinned sheepishly before stating, “Until we unknowingly meet again, Dwight Walker.”

“Until we meet again.”

And with that, everything I had ever known began to fade into the dark recesses of time.

It was time to live.