Just One Step

 

He stood at the edge of his garden, his hand placed above his eyes, sheltering them from the noonday sun. The time had finally arrived for the harvest. Roger had nursed this batch of garlic and was thrilled at enjoying the fruit of his labor. Dropping to his knees with a three-pronged garden fork, his work began, and he could smell the combination of freshly turned earth and brand new garlic, freshly drawn from the ground.

              It was a sandy loam soil that he dug in, a beautiful mixture of dirt and sand, perfectly for garlic, carrots, and potatoes. Occasionally wiping the sweat that had begun dripping from his forehead, he leaned back on his heels and felt his vision begin to blur. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus, sipping water and he steadied himself. Vigorously rubbing his face, he leaned forward once again and pulled the last few bulbs from the ground.

              Standing up and looping his sack, now full of garlic, over his head and shoulder, he started walking back toward his house. He wasn’t exactly sure why but suddenly the ground seemed to reach up and strike him on the face. He lay in the freshly mown grass and wondered why everything felt so heavy. “Maybe I’ll just take a little nap,” he thought to himself. As he slept, he dreamed. He was walking through an enormous garden of gently rolling hills, the number and variety of crops flowed in every direction he looked. He stopped and looked in wonder, slowly turning in a circle and marveling at the glory of it all. Sitting down on the top of the nearest high hill, he laid back and looked into the vast blue sky above him. Eventually closing his eyes, he suddenly felt very cold.

              He tried to reach for his face, but his arms felt like lead. His eyelids fought against him and gravity seemed to have increased by one hundred-fold.

              “Margaret, come quick,” a woman’s voice called out. “I think he’s starting to wake up.”

              “Squeeze his hand, Beth,” another woman said. “See if he responds at all.”

              After what seemed an eternity, Roger managed to open one eye and he looked up into the face of his two sisters, faces drawn and pale.

              “Oh, Roger, Roger, you’re okay,” one of them said. He would have spoken but the tongue in his mouth felt five sizes too big. As he slightly pulled open his mouth, Margaret slipped a straw between his lips. “He must be thirsty,” she said. “He’s been asleep for days. And this heat…”

              The small splash of water soaked into his tongue before he could even relish it’s touch. An array of static crept upon his vision from all sides and he again faded into darkness. It was the sudden blast of cold air that nearly took his breath away. In a sudden shudder, he popped open his eyes and stared into an indistinct gray sky. No longer imprisoned by pain and fever, he sat up and tried to gain his bearings. Looking around himself, he could see nothing recognizable. Sitting among unhewn rock, he could see nothing but jagged, black lifeless mountains and starless sky.

              Standing up Roger realized he was completely naked and cold. Slowly turning in a circle, his searching brought up nothing new. In every direction, the view was the same, cold, faceless, darkness and cold. “Um, where am I?” he said to no one. Each time he would begin to shake off the cold, a new blast of wind, very short but sharp, would chill him again. Gingerly walking across the rocky surface, he struggled to find a smooth surface to place his feet. He walked for what seemed hours, but he had nothing by which to judge time.

              Walking a path parallel to the mountains, he realized that nothing changed. Turning to his right, he started towards the mountains and turned again to walk along the edge between flat and incline. Eventually finding a small overcropping of stones, he curled up beneath them and tried to fall asleep. More time passed but nothing changed. Reopening his eyes, he stared out across the barren plain in front of him, more rocky mountains far off in the distance.

              As he stared into the emptiness, he watched a body fall from the sky and strike the ground, momentarily remaining motionless. After a few moments, this nameless person stood up, completely naked as well and began looking around and eventually wandering, just as he had. As he began to crawl out from the outcropping, he stopped himself. “I don’t even know where I am, how I got here or even who that person is. This isn’t safe.”

              As he remained hidden, he saw more and more bodies drop from the sky. Slipping out of his hiding place, he moved away in the opposite direction. Far in the distance, he could see more figures but these were very dark and hunched over. The area around them had a fog-like look to it. Looking down upon his own flesh, he could see the darkness covering his own skin. Carefully touching the dark spots, he began vigorously rubbing it but it accomplished nothing.

              He began running and he ran until he was exhausted, collapsing upon the jagged rocks. Though his feet hurt terribly, they did not bleed. He could see no damage whatsoever. Eventually sitting up, he was at a complete loss. He stood up and slowly walked in circles until he heard it. “Roger,” a voice called out. His heart racing, he frantically looked around but saw no one.

              Moving in bigger circles, he continued to hear the voice. It repeated his name many times. Stopping his frantic search, he leaned on his knees, completely winded, when a small circle of light appeared in front of him. The contrast with the surrounding darkness nearly overwhelmed him. The circle grew bigger, drawing closer to his feet. Backing up as it came closer, the voice became louder. The light stopped growing but began to rise up from the ground.

              The voice was clearly coming from the light and it occurred to him to step into it. Closing his eyes, he put his feet together and hopped forward, followed by an incredible sense of ascension, like riding an elevator that suddenly drops. With a violent jerk, he could feel himself laying on a soft, cushiony surface. Opening his eyes, he could feel the silky touch of clothes upon his skin and shoes on his feet. He was looking up at the ceiling of a large room, dimly lit but warm and comfortable.

              Sitting up, he realized he sat in a church, empty but warm. The darkness outside the windows told him that it was night, and he was sure he was alone. Gripping the sides of the coffin in which he lay, the reality of his situation struck him. He had died but had somehow come back. Carefully swinging one leg out, he stood, standing in his finest Sunday clothes.

              “Welcome back, Roger,” a voice called out. Looking to his right, he saw an ibis standing on the front pew. “I couldn’t leave you there, my friend. It just wasn’t right,” it said.