Let Me In Chapter 6: The Eternal Now
Why choose Hell when Heaven is within reach? Were you aware there's a choice?
Let Me In
Chapter 4: Confronting The Dragon
Chapter 5: The Perks and Pains of Twelve
Chapter 6: The Eternal Now
John wanted to keep his eyes closed as Peter read back that long forgotten memory. Reliving his life was undesirable. It was no wonder time travelers have never visited, he thought, going back in time was misery.
Try as he might the visuals came. Each word Peter read, each sound used to narrate the event, every pause, every inflection, everything brought movement.
Even the turning of the page influenced what he saw. Eyes closed, eyes open, it didn’t matter. Until finally it was over. Again, nothing but a distant memory. It was more tangible than before, to be sure, but a memory all the same.
He couldn’t remember if he had his eyes closed when Peter stopped reading or if he was hallucinating, but he was certain he hadn’t gone anywhere during the recantation. Yet he was inside all the same and it was not the inside he wanted. It was not his home.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting elongated shadows on the walls. John sat in a plush chair, its velvet fabric worn from years of use. Across from him, Peter leaned forward, his eyes piercing the semi-darkness, reflecting a wisdom that transcended time.
"Do you ever feel, John," Peter began, his voice a gentle whisper, "as though we've had conversations like this before? As if our souls have danced around these very questions in some distant memory?"
John shifted uncomfortably, a fleeting sensation of déjà vu unsettling him. “That’s a little odd, considering we just met,” he said, attempting to keep his composure. The last thing he wanted right now was for Peter to read him anymore. Maybe this time he wouldn’t catch on to his discomfort.
Peter smiled faintly, a knowing expression flashed in his eyes. Or did he imagine that? "Time has a peculiar way of folding in on itself, especially in places like this,” Peter answered in that same gentle whisper as before. “But let's focus on the present, shall we?"
John nodded, eager to move past the unsettling feeling. "Alright, let's. What do you want to discuss?"
Peter leaned back in his chair. "Choices, John. The ones we make, the ones we avoid, and the profound impact they have on our souls. Especially the choices that lead us down paths we never expected."
John swallowed hard, sensing the gravity of the conversation ahead. He had a feeling that this wasn't just about the afterlife, but about the very essence of his being and the choices that had brought him to this moment.
“Heaven and Hell, John. We who have lived, all of us have experienced both. We have been to both and those of us still living will go back to both again.”
Peter paused, allowing John to take in his words. There was an obvious weight to them, an importance implied but not yet understood. He could tell John was exhausted.
After some moments had passed, John replied, “Now I’m confused again. Do you mean literally? Is this figurative? Is heaven, as you describe it, simply good times and hell the bad? What’s past my front door then, if not eternity?”
“It’s not so simple, John. And forgive me if I have been cryptic, it is not my intent. There are things I tip-toe around but that’s to avoid putting too much on you at once. Even here it’s not good to overload someone. That is one part of the transcendent beauty of humanity that isn’t dependent on realm or being. Your mind remains, your consciousness remains regardless of locale.”
John thought for a moment then leaned towards Peter. “Is that why I’m tired here? Is that why my head is spinning despite being, as you put it, ‘not alive at present’?”
Peter nodded but said nothing. The affirmation did nothing but distress John further.
“Well, go on then. Explain this ‘not so simple’ I asked about.” John felt himself losing control of himself as he spoke, hearing himself grow louder with each word. “Why do you keep pausing? You may not be attempting to be so cryptic but you’re damn good at it. If eternity is not past that door, if my family is not past that door, what’s there? Why should I care about continuing with this bullshit?”
John brought his fist down hard against the dark wooden table that sat between them. Peter’s unchanging expression as the impact of fist on wood sounded through the room only infuriated him further. He was at risk of losing it altogether.
But he didn’t care. What good was all this talking and all this listening doing? Was it getting him to where he needed to be? Was it getting him back to his family? If not, what was the point of all of it?
Peter remained where he was, expression unchanged, eyes still focused on John.
Then everything went black. He felt air rushing by. Did he feel it, or just hear it? No, he didn’t feel it. He felt nothing but anger, but he was confident he was hearing the familiar sound of air as it rushed past the ears.
As suddenly as the sound arrived it was gone. In place of it was a voice, though it wasn’t Peters. It was a new one.
No, a familiar one.
A terrifying one.
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