A Disturbing Question (Flash Fiction)

My Post (7)


            Daniel blinked, and he was standing in line. For what he did not know. He could not even recall how he had got there. The line was long but not long enough that he could not see the first person standing in front of a red door. There was a small man beside it, and he opened the entrance or exit he could not tell just yet. The man ushered the next woman through and slowly closed the redness that appeared to lead nowhere.

            The line moved forward. Everyone stepped in unison.

            “Where are we?” He asked the man in front of him.

            Nothing. No answer.

            He turned to ask the woman behind him and found it to be a struggle to get his body to rotate. After some time he finally got turned around and saw that her eyes were solid black disks that never quite seemed to come into focus. Attempting to jump out of line he realized he could not. He was unable to move at all except to turn in place against an air that was thick as gel.

            The line moved again. Daniel stepped closer to the door, not of his own will, however. He kept striding forward until he was standing in front of the small man who was dressed unusually lacking in any semblance of style. The door opened, and he walked through.

Lit by a single light placed in the corner, the room was considerably darker than the other side of the door. A bald man sat behind a rusted desk looking over some papers.

            “Sit down.”

            “Where am I?”

            “You don’t remember? Curious. How did it happen?” The man questioned.

            “How did what happen?” Daniel became concerned.

            “Well, your third and final death of course. This is the weigh station, and you’re here to be judged on your merits accumulated,” the bald man stood and pulled a chain that hung from the ceiling.

            “What do you mean final death? I was just in my home and found myself standing in this line. You must be mistaken,” Daniel stood as well and tried for the door only to find himself drug back down to the chair by an invisible force.

            “Sorry Daniel, but this is your final go-round, and it looks like your credit count doesn’t allow you to be informed of your fate till you get there. You are what we deem an unworthy.” With that, he let go of the hanging chain, and the chair tilted backward and a trap door opened to allow Daniel to slide down into the flames.

            “Next!” The bald man took his seat and straightened his papers once again.


Write Fearlessly

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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