I Will Have You Eventually
You are standing in a large auditorium, but there’s nobody in the audience. Above a pair of closed doors at the back of the stage, an obnoxious neon sign tells you that you are on a GAME SHOW! Your host is a middle-aged man in a tan suit, with heavily waxed hair and too much cologne. He stands up to greet you.
“Congratulations!” he says. “You died!”
You look down at your body, at your shriveled hands and frail frame. You don’t feel like there’s any cause for celebration.
“What’s the game?” you ask.
“My, my, aren’t you impatient?” The host shakes his head. “You see those two doors over there? You’re going to go through one of them. And I’m afraid there’s no game. I lied about that. You don’t get to choose which door to go through; you’ve already decided that a long time ago.”
He waves his hand in a grandiose gesture. “And now, for Exhibit A.” The door on the left opens, and you are suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of urine, sweat, and feces. There’s no fire or brimstone, but you know that this is Hell. A blue, sterilized light flickers on and off from the inside, and you can hear the sound of people moaning, the sound of people who have grown too tired for screaming.
“No, no, no, you’re not going in there,” he says, sounding mildly disappointed. “But can I tell you just how close you were? When you were twelve you tried to cheat on a math test but you were too scared to go through with it. When you were sixteen you took one of your mother’s silver bracelets to sell for cigarette money, you thought she had so many she would never notice, but when you were in the driveway you had a sudden flash of conscience and put it back. When you were fifty-three you almost cheated with your wife’s sister. You were alone in the house and she had her hand on your thigh. Your thigh!” He laughs, and the sound is like that of a hyena torturing its prey. “If the doorbell hadn’t rung, if your son hadn’t come home early, you’d be in there with the rest of them!”
He follows your eyes. “Of course, you want to see what’s behind the other door. They all do.” The prospect of showing you seems to delight him even more than opening the first door. “Behold, Exhibit B!”
You see white light. You hear the voices of people talking, you see the outline of a friendly face. A word forms on your lips. The host laughs again, and it sounds even less human than before. “Oh no, whatever gave you that idea? Heaven? Heaven? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”
Your eyes adjust to the light. You step forward, unable to stop yourself, and as you move closer you can see every detail: the sharp light on the doctor’s forehead, the surgical mask covering her face, the nurse standing by to take the baby. To take you.
The man’s voice changes from ostentatious game show host to something else entirely, something dark and delicious. “You may have gotten away this time,” he whispers, “but I will have you eventually.”
And he pushes you, screaming, into the world.
