Daniel closes the heavy door behind him. Even with six inches of solid oak between him and the battlefield, he can still hear the grunts of the warriors as they trade blows. Game of Thrones re-enactments have filled his weekends for years. How could he have known that living the dream, hour after hour, day after day, would be so tedious?
He leans against the stone wall and contemplates the four remaining doors. Taking a deep breath, he moves down the hallway. He closes his eyes and pushes the next door open a crack. Contented sounds, murmurs of ecstasy, reach him. The tantalizing smell of fresh bread and roasting vegetables caresses his nose and beckons him. No, that is not where he wants to end up. He pulls the door shut.
The next door opens to a vast sea. A small, tropical island lies within an easy swim. But Daniel hates the water. Another door eliminated.
Only two left. At this one he hears joyous chorus, the singing of angels, behind the thick oak. Daniel is tone-deaf. No use to open this one.
A choice must be made soon or he will be stuck in the corridor, in limbo, forever.
The last door opens as he approaches it. Beyond the threshold a fat gibbous moon hangs over a gentle hill. A voice says softly, An eternity of endless space, a day of wind and moon. As Daniel steps toward the landscape, his earthly burdens lift and peace settles over him.
Photo from Wikimedia Commons: Laubenhang im Woermannhaus Corridor at Woermannhaus in Swakopmund, Namibia. Author—Hochgeladen am 24. April 2006 von SqueakyMarmot