The Tunnel of Knowledge
(Flash Fiction)
The answer to the question I have asked myself for fifty years is finally at hand. I know it, can feel it in my bones, the doctors have not contradicted me. The tunnel will light up, celestial music will start. In a matter of hours. Two days at most, my body tells me. Will marvel at the colours of all the flowers on either side. Loved ones, those who have passed will suddenly appear. They will smile, try to tell me that there is nothing to be afraid of. But who will take my hand for the final leap?
Anne and I had been good for each other. Forty years of happy married life before she was gathered. Prematurely. I would have wanted nobody else. What’s the set up going to be like? Would the two us share a home. With our kids join us when their time comes? I like the idea.
But in the eight years since she passed, I had fewer imaginary conversations with Anne than with Morgan. My best friend. He died fifty years ago. Drowned in Greece. Trying to rescue his younger sister. Never missed anybody more. Never a week passed without my dreaming of us playing tennis. Or cycling, or riding his Italian scooter. Do not believe that I’ve had a meaningful friendship with anyone else. Always felt it would be a betrayal of our unalloyed bond. It was never physical. Don’t think I’ve ever been anything but het. Can’t recall admiring any man physically. It was always the fair sex. But for years, Morgan was the first person in my thought on waking up in the morning. Before falling asleep. If I wake up in the middle of the night. So what was it? Was it just friendship? After Anne departed, for a while, she took over. It was with her I that I shared my woes. Or my few joys. But a year on, Morgan had regained his prominence. Have remonstrated myself for this. She was your beloved half for Christ’s sake. If Morgan had not died you’d probably hardly send him a card at Christmas now. He only acquired his iconic status because he died in tragic circumstances. But nothing stopped him invading my thoughts first thing in the morning. Have I been censoring my true feelings for him? Sinful ones?
I feel weak. I think the moment has arrived. Can hear a bird singing in the distance. A bird chorus. Here’s the light. Flickering. Now it’s the brightest light I have ever seen. Can hear whispering. Joyful whispering. Can see outlines of people. My welcoming party. There’s my Anne. Hang on, no. It’s dear Morgan. No, one moment it’s him, the next it’s her.
