The Room

[Man_with_a_killer's_mind]

Jonathan could hear the muffled voices of his doctor and grief-stricken mother, but he could not utter a word of comfort to her. No matter how hard he tried, his mouth would not open. He couldn’t even hum. Over the past few hours, he’d lost control of just about every part of his body. His eyelids became too heavy to open and it became harder and harder to breathe.

“Mom…Mom, I love you so much.” He could hear the words form in his head, but no one would ever hear them come from his young mouth.

He knew he was dying, in fact, he knew he would be gone soon. How he knew this, he couldn’t fathom. Was it some kind of divine message from God, or simply a hard-wired precursor to death? Jonathan wasn’t nervous or scared about dying. The pain could never match that of what he had experienced in the last year of his life. What did scare him was what came after death. Would he simply cease to exist, as so many of his close friends had said, or would his spirit be mystically transported to some paradise in the sky? He would know soon enough.

His mother’s voice grew more concerned until she began screaming. Something was flowing up from his stomach. When it reached his mouth, he tasted blood. He knew it was time. Suddenly, the backs of his eyelids lit up with a blinding bright light. It was the first light he had seen in almost five hours. The light seemed to have a voice. It called out to him, its thundering volume overpowering the screams of his mother and the hurried voices of a group of doctors.

“Jonathan, I believe it is your time.”

“I am ready, Lord.” He answered.

“I am not the Lord. Hmmm…You’ll understand soon.”

With that, he was sucked into the white light, while behind him the voices of the doctors spoke.

“He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Jonathan was sucked through the bright light until it turned into a tunnel similar to the sewers he had seen during his life. This tunnel, unlike the sewers, was clean. Not a spot of dirt anywhere. He slid through the concrete tunnel all the way down until he dropped out and freefell to the floor of a room. Though he knew he hit the ground hard, he did not feel any pain. It was like he was being constantly drugged.

The four walls seemed to be made of solid concrete, though it looked very polished. He confirmed his theory when he stood up by running his hands over the smooth surface. He looked down at the floor and noticed that it was made of glass. It must be pretty thick, he thought, in order to hold my weight and the fall I just had. Beyond the glass were hundreds of thousands of other rooms just like his. Some contained people who sat watching a giant screen which had what seemed to be a movie projected onto it. Other rooms did not contain people. One thing was true of all the rooms. Their floors and ceilings were made of glass, and they all had the giant screen.

Where is the screen in this room, he thought? He looked up at the glass ceiling of his room and noticed that he could see into the room directly above him. The man inside looked strangely familiar. Then, as if a newspaper was thrown to his doorstep, the information came to him. It was his father. Oh how happy he was to see the man who had died almost ten years before. Jonathan tried to use his voice, but nothing came out. In fact, he finally realized that he didn’t have a body. He reminded himself of the ghosts he’d seen in Hollywood movies. His features were all there and he was wearing his favorite shirt and dirty pair of jeans, but he was nearly transparent.

“You won’t be able to talk with you mouth.”

Jonathan watched as his father broke his stare from the giant screen and looked down into his room. His father waved, and then pointed to his head.

“We have no need for voice boxes. The creator has given us the power of telepathy. Some people on earth have it, but it’s an extremely rare gift.”

“Father,” Jonathan asked with his mind, not even knowing he could. “I know I am dead, but what is this place? Is this heaven, ‘cause it sure isn’t what I expected?”

“Yeah Jonathan,” His father said with a wide smile. “This is heaven. But you’re not on some far away planet or anything like that. You’re only in another dimension of Earth’s reality. But let me tell you this, your stay here is short.”

“Am I going to Hell?” He asked. He was beginning to worry. “Is that why I don’t have a screen like everyone else?”

“Jonathan, look at all the empty rooms below you. Do you see screens in those rooms?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Jonathan, the screens are only for those that have truly passed on. Look at me. I’m not transparent because I am truly deceased. You however…you’re split between this reality, what Earth calls ‘heaven’, and Earth’s reality. You are not truly dead.”

Jonathan was amazed. He had so many questions, so many which needed answers. Then it hit him again. His father had just said he wasn’t dead.

“Wait. I’m not dead?” He asked.

“No you’re not. I cannot say anymore about that particular topic. I have a limit, actually, as to what I can answer. The creator is allowing me to answer three of your most pressing questions, either about this life or your Earth life. Please pick your questions wisely, as I know you can.”

Jonathan thought a moment, and then blurted his question out.

“What are those screens for?”

His father chuckled, and then answered his question.

“You’re gonna like those when you finally do come here permanently. They are our own personal movie theaters. But not specifically for Hollywood movies…no, they are made for dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“Yeah, cool eh? You see, whatever you dream with your mind is projected onto the screen telepathically. It could be any dream you wish, even the horrific ones, but you get to choose. Oh, but they do have a great library of movies here. Every one ever made, and the list continues to grow as Spielberg spits ‘em out.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh. What an amazing place this was.

“Oh yeah, you can also read here. But you don’t stay in your room for that. You can travel via tele-transport to the Universe Library where they have every book ever published or unpublished. Again, the list continues to grow.”

“Can I ask my next question?” Jonathan asked, not wanting to interrupt his father.

“Sure Johnny.”

Oh how he missed being called Johnny.

“Okay. Why are the rooms stacked on top of one another in columns?”

“Oh that’s an easy one.” His father said. “Each room is for one specific person. Each column corresponds to a specific family. Simple, yes?”

“Okay, can I add to that question, or will this have to be a separate question?” Jonathan had so much he wanted to know, yet he had very little time.

“As long as it relates to this question, it should be fine.”

“M’kay. Is this place pre-built? I mean, does God know what people will be in what family? Uggh...I’m confusing myself. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Each room is pre-built, yes, but they arrange themselves according to your actions in life. If you get married, then the wife’s family column becomes combined with the husband’s family column. You get the idea.”

He did get the idea. All of this was so much to take in. It was almost too much. He wanted to ask his last question, but he wanted it to be a good one, something he really wanted to know.

“Alright, third and final question. Who is the creator? Is it God as the Bible describes, or Allah, or Buddha? Who is God?” Jonathan absolutely needed to know the answer to this question. He just hoped his father knew the answer.

“Jonathan. I love you so much. The truth is, God is all of those people. There has always been and always will be one true God. What people call him is up to their culture and religion. But in the end, everyone is following the same God.”

That was it, his last question. Just as he was about to tell his father how much he loved him, the voices of the doctors and his emotional mother filled his head. He began to feel a force sucking him into thin air. He saw his father one last time, and watched as he sat down and stared at the giant screen again as it began moving with dreams. He saw himself on the screen swinging at the playground of his childhood, and then he woke up.

He was in extreme pain and he let the doctors know it. It took all six of them to hold him down to the bed as another doctor injected him with some drug. His eyes began feeling heavy again, but this time, he knew he would wake up in the same bed. He allowed himself to drift into the sleep of the drugged.

Two weeks later and he had made a full recovery. The leukemia miraculously disappeared. Even the most hardened doctors had to call it a sure miracle. As he laid in his bed, his mother sitting in a small chair next to him, he began to think about heaven…about his father.

“Mom, have I got a story to tell you.” He said with a grin on his face.

One of my best short stories. I hope you like it!!!