The Gatekeeper

Michael

It was a hot afternoon, and Michael and his father were playing baseball in their backyard. They were playing for an hour or two already, but they didn't look tired despite their shirts damped with sweat. To them, this was what paradise must feel like. 

"George, Michael, time to go inside and take a rest." Vivian, Michael's mother, said as she went to the backyard. "Just a minute, hon. We're getting to the good part." George said. After a few seconds, he caught the ball. "Hey, no fair! That's a foul!" Michael protested. George chuckled. "Is it, now?" He then took off his baseball glove. "Come on, buddy. Mommy says it's time to take a rest."

"Aw, but I still want to play." Michael whined. 

"Don't worry, we'll play again next time." George reassured him. "But-" Before Michael could even finish what he was saying, he lost his balance, as well as his consciousness. Fortunately, George caught him before he hit the ground.

*****

Michael opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but was clear enough for him to know he's back in his room. He blinked a few times, and his vision was back to normal. "Hi, sweetheart." Vivian said with a wide smile, her eyes showing a hint of worry. She touched Michael's forehead to check his temperature. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Michael dodged his mother's question. "What happened?" He asked. "You had another episode." Vivian replied, her lips turning to a straight line. Michael avoided eye contact with his mother, "I shouldn't have played that long," he said to himself. Vivian suddenly felt sorry for her son, "Sweetheart, it's alright. You need to have fun, too, you know."

Vivian tried to make Michael feel better about himself, but he was in deep thought. "Michael, are you even listening?" Vivian asked. "Mom, do you know why I have cancer?" Michael asked. Vivian had to lean just to hear him. "No, Michael. I don't know." She said. "Do you?"

Michael nodded slowly. "I think I do," he said. "this must be my punishment for being a bad boy." Vivian was taken aback, but soon reached for his hand and said, "Sweetheart, you're not a bad-" But Michael pulled away. "You know that's not true!" He snapped.

Vivian fell silent. "I'm not a kid anymore, Mom. I know I've done wrong, but I can't remember exactly what I did."

Vivian choked back a sob. She didn't like it when her son does that to himself: blaming himself for having such disease. It felt like her heart was being stabbed with a dagger a thousand times whenever she sees him like that. 

"Michael," she finally said. "you don't have to remember what you've done. It's in the past now." Michael shook his head. "Then why do I have a feeling that I have to?" He asked. Vivian smiled, cupped his cheeks with her calloused hands, and looked right into his eyes. "Rest, my child. You need to recover as soon as possible."

Michael wanted to protest, but his head was starting to ache, so he just sighed. "Do you want me to get you something to eat, sweetheart?" Vivian asked as she was about to leave Michael's room. He shook his head. "Not hungry." He mumbled. "You know what to do when you need anything, right?"

"Mom."

Vivian gave Michael an apologetic smile. "I'll let you take a rest now." And then she closed the door. Michael took few deep breaths and sat up. His head throbbed and he winced. He then got out of his bed once the throbbing had subsided. 

Come on, Michael. It's just a stupid headache. Bare with it. Micheal thought. He took a step one at a time.

Step . . . 

Step . . .

Step . . .

Until he reached the door to his studio room. Michael opened the door and played his drum set. After a few minutes, he paused for a while to wipe his sweat with his forearm. Then he resumed. 

While playing the drums, he looked to the right. Then he saw a beam of light. Golden dust particles moved closer and closer to each other until they formed a stairway. A stairway leading to somewhere unknown.

Michael was stunned. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and blinked a few times to see if his eyes were just playing tricks on him. But they weren't. It didn't look like it, but Michael was starting to freak out. A staircase to somewhere suddenly appearing in your studio room doesn't happen all the time, let alone even once in a lifetime.

And so, Michael did what every teenager would do: go up the stairs and see where it leads him to.

The stairway was so long that he had to take a rest from time to time. When he finally reached his destination, he caught his breath. Heaven itself lay right before his eyes. 

Michael stood there for a moment. Then he saw a boy - Michael believed he was in his late teens - with an other-worldly clothing standing behind a giant golden gate. He gestured Michael to come over. Michael did what he was told. The boy smiled as he looked at Michael, and some wrinkles appeared beside his eyes. Michael found this weird.

"Hello, Michael." The boy greeted. "How did you know my name?" Michael asked. "I have my ways." The boy replied. Michael decided that he's a secretive boy. He won't be able to get all the answers he want if ever he had a question or two. But of course, that thought didn't stop Michael from asking.

"Who are you?" He asked. "Why, isn't it obvious? I'm certain that the golden gate gives away everything." The boy said. Michael shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I really have no idea who you are." The boy frowned. "You don't?" 

Michael shook hid head and gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm the Gatekeeper, Michael." The boy said. Michael raised both his eyebrows. "Really?" He asked. The boy nodded. Michael narrowed his eyes and observed the Gatekeeper. "Aren't you . . . you know, a little young to be the Gatekeeper?" 

"Ever heard of immortality, kid?" The Gatekeeper asked. Michael nodded. The Gatekeeper gestured to himself with a proud smile on his face. "Pardon me if my question is rather churlish, but why does the Heaven need a Gatekeeper? Do souls attempt to escape?" The Gatekeeper chuckled. "You're pretty funny, Michael. And no, they don't attempt to escape, thank you very much. My objective is to guide a lost soul to the right path in order for them to be in the paradise promised by God."

He's not that secretive, after all. Michael thought.

"But what if it wasn't able to find its way to Heaven?" What will happen?" Michael asked. The Gatekeeper's face darkened. "There's no other way but the stairway to a bottomless pit. A place where souls are being tormented." Michael shuddered. He didn't believe in any of these before, but now that he was a gate away to Heaven, he started to believe.

"That must be the reason why I'm here, then." Michael said, almost to himself. "Care to tell me what that reason is?" The Gatekeeper asked. 

Michael was about to tell the Gatekeeper, but the Gatekeeper held up his hand. "No, hold that thought for a moment. We don't have much time." He said. Michael raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I'm sorry, dude, I wish I can explain everything that's happening. But I'm afraid we don't have enough time."

"Are you ready?" The Gatekeeper asked. "Ready for what?"

Michael's eyes widened. 

"What are you - wait!"