As the crimson liquid scorched his lips, searing the soft, sensitive tissue down along his throat, he smiled. This was it. He was finally taking the trip.
Someone behind him coughed. Whispers tittered around him. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on the burn. Feel the burn. Live the burn. Let the fire consume the body and the soul. Only then will the door open and the real trip begin.
For a brief moment, Bill allowed his mind to drift backward in time.
Yesterday he'd been sitting in his cubicle at the marketing office, a pile of papers two feet high blocking his view of the clock. The incessant laughter of the smelly fat lady in the cubicle next door infested his tiny space. Heehee Heehee, she chittered. She spent six out of the eight-hour workday on the phone to her girlfriend talking about the erotica festivals they attend. Heehee Heehee. All damn day, every day.
Home offered no escape. His wife, the Queen of Mean, jumped on him the second he came through the door. The yard wasn't mowed properly. The kids had gotten in trouble again in school and of course it was his fault. Everything was his fault. He had heard the same mantra every day: He was worthless, useless, and no good. Why in the world did she ever marry him? She could have done better, should have done better. She was Martha Bella Peters of the Heath Antonio Peters family, for Crissakes! She didn't deserve this!
Then he received the anonymous flier about the Door. For those daring enough to venture into the inner sanctum, brave the pain, and free the mind, the rewards were limitless. And it didn't cost a thing.
Yesterday he had nothing. Today, as he lay flat on his back, eyes closed, mouth still tingling from the strangely sweet, fiery drink, he felt his body relax for the first time in over ten years.
The official members of the sanctum reminded him of Gregorian monks, dressed in dark velvet robes, cue ball smooth heads and faces perfectly smooth. Perhaps thirty men lay around him, each of them flat upon straw mats, arms by the sides, no shoes.
Bill had to strip off all of his "earthly" clothes. The monks said it would interfere.
"Transformation begins with letting go. Free yourself, my friend," one monk said.
Naked, he lay down on his straw mat. The room was warm, body becoming one almost immediately with the air.
To describe what he was feeling evoked the power of every sense, unfolding every poetic phrase beyond comprehension. Nerves shivered, blood warmed, rushing through now wide-open veins. He felt an ultimate rush in a matter of seconds. Yet, as quick as it began, it was over.
Not even numbness can accurately describe it. He could hear, feel the straw beneath him. Every now and then someone would move and a finger would brush against his arm or leg. He felt it, yes. But he didn't care. That was the beauty of it. And the more he let his mind go, the more beautiful, the more serene he began to feel.
Bill exhaled, his breath floating above his head. Tranquility thickened itself. Like a blanket, it covered him, molding itself around his body. He felt his mind drift.
Bill opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked.
Mountains stretched in every direction. Their jagged peaks stabbing into a flaming sky.
"It's best not to know," someone answered.
Bill looked over his shoulder.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Consider me your guide, the man answered, his toothless mouth yawning wide.
"I don't like this place," Bill said.
"No one does, Guide said. But that's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"One of two things, the stranger answered. One - you get out of here. Two - you die."
"And you're going to help me how?" Bill asked, a sudden uneasiness churning his stomach.
"I never said anything about help, Guide said. I just said I was your guide. Everyone who comes through the Door gets a guide."
"I want to go back," Bill said, looking over his shoulder.
Behind him an enormous door shimmered like a heat mirage. As his hand reached for the knob, the door broke into a million pearl-white particles and rained down to the ground.
A thunderous roar shook the ground. Losing his balance, Bill stumbled. Guide laughed, throwing his head back and rocking on his heels.
"Here comes the beast, Guide said. We better run."
"Beast?" he asked.
"I wouldn't waste time asking questions. Just run," Guide said.
Guide turned and sprinted off towards the mountain. The ground vibrated, the rust colored earth rolling in tiny ripples beneath their feet. Bill looked back hoping to see the door. There was no door. In its place charged a hideous monster.
Grotesquely proportioned, it resembled a cross between a gorilla and a bull, distorted but agile. It ran on all fours, hurtling its massive body towards him, kicking up dust. It snarled, drool dripping from its leathery lips.
"Dear God!" Bill cried out.
"God ain't familiar with these parts, Guide answered. You better run!"
Spinning on his heel, Bill tore off towards the mountain.
The beast barreled forward, faster and more determined. And the mountains were very, very far away.
"Come on, Come on!" Guide yelled.
Bill realized that he was now running among a bunch of men. All of them as naked as he, all of them chasing the same toothless, scrawny guide. These men were those who lay on thin straw mats in some strange room where men in dark robes walked around.
What was the meaning to all of this? The trip was supposed to be a release from stress, not a nightmarish run for your life.
The beast was gaining on them. Catching an older man by the ankle, he hit the ground with a thud. Without losing stride, the monster sucked the man up into its horrendous mouth, chomping and chewing. Blood squirted out from between his teeth, bones crunched.
Bill's stomach twisted, threatening to empty itself. Gathering new speed, he ran harder.
Screams filled his head. Eyes blurred with tears. The mountains were nearing and so was the beast. One by one the beast devoured the men, blood turning the soil a deeper red.
Bill longed for Martha and his tiny cubicle, infested with Heehee Heehee. At least the fat smelly lady wouldn't spill his guts across some alien land. For all of Martha's meanness, at least she was beautiful.
"God help me," Bill whispered.
Guide showed up at his side, smiling his toothless smile. "You don't hear too well, do you? God don't come around here. It's just you and that beast now. Take a look
Bill took a look.
Bones littered the strange red earth. The beast gnashed his teeth, now only a few feet away. With one gruesomely long arm, it swiped at Bill, its long fingers just barely missing his back.
"I'm sorry Martha, he began, for all the cruel things I have said and thought about you. I am sorry for all the times I have complained about my life. Nothing is as bad as this. Nothing."
"Ain't that the truth?" Guide said, smiling.
He was losing strength, unable to run. Slower, slower, until finally, he stopped.
"What are you doing?" Guide asked.
"I can't run any more, he said. I may as well let the beast eat me. I asked for this. I wanted an escape from a life I thought was horrible. I thought the Door would take me to a better place."
Guide grinned. "Some doors are better left unopened," he said then disappeared.
Bill fell to his knees, exhausted. He waited for the beast to devour him. But the beast never came.
He awoke with a start. The room around him was silent and empty. A monk sat in the corner with a single candle burning. The monk pointed to Bill's clothes neatly folded beside him then walked away.
Excellent story Poe. I love the message in this one very much! Very imaginative, very creative, and very well done! :)
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"Our mothers and fathers held us close to their hearts and they promised 'One bright and shining day my children, we will triumph in battle. One bright and shining day my children, we will give you back your wings.' " - PL: S&W
