Janvian Yetrovski walked the Corridor of Fates thirty-two rounds every night.
Back and forth, one round. Back and forth, two rounds. And so on and so forth, until he reached - back and forth - the thirty-second round, marking the end of his shift.
Tonight had run smoothly, so far. He was on his sixth round - back and forth - when the delusions began to hit him. Hallucinations were common for the Guards of the Fates, as even the specially-charmed doors could not fully keep out the realms behind them. Visions leaked through like dew. It took years to get used to them, and even now, after fifteen years, Janvian shuddered at some. He had his favorites, of course, and one door had always intrigued him, with its ornate, gargoylesque framework. But no vision had ever come out of it, which unnerved him perhaps more than anything else.
The thing was, each of those visions were the fates people figured they would endure after death. Most were pleasant; many believed they would end up in Heaven, although each version of Heaven was a little different. A few were blank, and those unnerved Janvian. Those were the people who believed there was no life after death, and thus were forced to endure an eternity of suspended nothingness.
Janvian was never fond of self-created Hells, and he walked briskly past those doors, glancing quickly to make sure no poor souls were trying to escape. That was his job, after all. He had been specially trained to show no mercy, even with those who had been tortured for thousands of years. They have created their own fate, the authorities had told him. Now they must fulfill their self-made prophecies.
As the night passed on - back and forth, twenty rounds - the hallucinations became entire scenes filling the hallway directly in front of the door. Janvian began to take pleasure in looking at some of the Heavens as he passed through. A few people believed Heaven consisted of spring-green meadows, surrounded by sparse forests in which gentle creatures roamed. A gathering of children played near a river, and the sun shone lightly over all. Janvian passed through this scene as he would through a spiderweb, and then continued on to the next Heaven. In this one, streets paved in gold lead to an enormous castle, and people were crowded around its walls, singing in worship. The guard stopped to listen for a moment, then continued on his route.
The nice scenes were not the only ones to take up the hallway, however. Hell, too, wanted its chance to expand its borders, and the few Hells in the hall made their presence known. Screams emanated from their scenes, even before Janvian could reach the doors. He quickly passed through, figuring that anyone who escaped would be visible in the empty spaces between scenes.
On and on the night went, until finally - back and forth, thirty-one rounds - Janvian reached his very last round. By this point, he was tempted to sprint through the hall to avoid the chaos around him. Scenes began leaking into one another, and there was no safe place to rest. Save one.
Halfway to the end of the hall, Janvian stopped in front of the silent gargoyle door. Visions flooded his peripheral vision as he studied it, but his fascination held his focus. Ever silent, it had been an almost faithful respite for him on every shift.
Fifteen years is a long time... He thought, then reprimanded himself immediately. Fifteen years was nothing compared to some of the veterans of the hall. Still, he could feel something pulling him. Perhaps this Corridor is not where I’m meant to spend my eternity...
He walked cautiously up to the door, feeling the rough surface of the carving around it. To his surprise, it was not cold, nor hot, but luke-warm. The stone itself was very smooth, almost gliding underneath his fingertips. He began to see the beauty in the design and wondered who had carved it.
Janvian looked both ways. My replacement will be here soon to take his shift. Nothing would happen in that time if I were to... He let his thoughts drift, examining the iron handle on the door. It was true, no guard had ever entered one of the fates, and he didn’t know if it would be pleasant or painful, or simply nothing. He stepped back; lack of knowledge was never a good thing to go by when making a decision. He may never come back, and what good would that do anyone?
Still... Janvian closed his eyes, took a deep breath, grasped the handle tightly, and opened the door.
A single thought entered his mind in the split second before he entered his fate; his favorite quote from Sir Winston Churchill: “If you are going through hell, keep going.”
He smiled, submitting to his new self-made eternity.
