He woke up. His eyelids felt heavy and his eyes sore from the light. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember what happened. But he can't so he just waited until he can see where he was.
He was lying on a dry brown soil, in a sparse field with little vegetation, as wide as the horizons. A cool wind blew past, lightly from his side. The sky was grey but cloudless and it was cold, as if it was late autumn. Strange. How on earth did he get here? It took some time to stand up, for he was a little dizzy. He saw patches of soil dust on his side and back and pat them vigorously. He searched for an orientation on where to head next, but there seem to be no clue on where he was and where should he head. So he just walked ahead, hoping to find something. He walked for some long time, and all he saw was a little azalea bush, dried and puckered, but its colour still vibrant on some parts.
Just when he almost gave up, he saw at the distance a thin dark line, a silver mirage made it eerie. He quickened his pace, curious and rather impatient. It came to be a fence made from wooden planks, neatly arranged side by side, stretched till the horizons. It was a head higher than him and although he jumped many times to peek on the other side, he did not manage to see. He found the door but it was locked. Seeing it was either to walk the other way to nowhere or to climb up, he decided to knock, though he has no idea who would possible answer.
"Who's there?"
There was an answer, a voice of a man. He was a little exuberant. He cleared his throat, realising he hadn't use his voice in a while, so it came out hoarse.
"Uhh, my name is Luis. I think I'm lost. I don't know where I am," he replied. The voice on the other side surprisingly laughed politely.
"You all came here a little lost," said the voice and the door creaked open.
Luis entered cautiously, peeking at the door. There was a middle-aged man, fair-skinned with a white moustache, dressed in a gardening outfit. He had a bunch of azaleas in his gloved hand, a pair of shears on the other. His garden was surrounded by tall trees, and unlike the sparse field outside, the soil here was much more fertile and it was very shady with thick clouds up above. The man's garden was nothing out of ordinary, however, there were many azalea bushes with a few periwinkles dotted here and there. The garden however, was very wide and vast, and he can't see the fence on the sides.
"I've been expecting you, Luis," smiled the man.
"You...you have?" replied Luis, startled. Many questions raced his mind.
"I know you have a lot of questions. But I'll answer one of it. You're dead, Luis."
At first he was baffled, but then it hit him like a train. He remembered now. He had a heart attack. But he was much older. He was 75, if he can recall correctly. Luis looked at his hands. They were not wrinkled at all where it should. He touched his face. His youth had come back. The man laughed again.
"The look on your face, what a sight! Hah, really Luis, you're dead and now you're on the way to heaven,"
He's right, Luis was dead. What other explanation for this queer travel back in time. Or rather, people just regain their youths when they're about to enter heaven.
"Heaven? I get to go to heaven?" a sudden delight filled Luis that he smiled ear to ear.
"Yes, my boy. You are granted heaven and all you have to do is walk into the woods to find a pasture filled with what you had desired all along,"
"You mean, I get to go to heaven?!" he just can't hide his joy and disbelief. The man nodded amusingly.
There it was. The end of his journey. He wasn't that religious when he was alive but he did what God told him to and did good deeds and avoided the bad ones. He didn't smoke, he didn't drink and was kind to everybody. He did not play around with girls and gave alms when he can. He was not rich, but he pulled through with what he had and managed to stay happy and grateful. He was obedient to his parent and tolerant to those of those with different faith. He was a faithful husband and loved his wife unconditionally till her death 13 years before his.
