From Heaven's Door

Chapter 6

V

Darkness. Darkness.

So much pain.

Darkness. Darkness.

Nothing is real.

Darkness.

I don't know what I am. I don't know where I am. Everything's black and it feels like I've just fallen off the edge of consciousness into the pit of a coma.

Calling.

I can hear someone calling. Someone's trying to get my attention. Someone wants me to hear them. I wander around but I do not move. I look around but I cannot see. I strain to listen but I remain deaf. It's right on top of me. It's so close. I can feel where it's coming from and I know how to get to it, but my body is seizing up against me and...

This isn't real.

Nothing is real.

This... This is my mind? I can't feel anything. My thoughts seem like reality.

That voice. That calling. That plea. That can't be just my mind playing with me. It feels so real.

It feels so real. I listen. Listen. Listen.

I hear it.

"Salvation. Salvation."

"Purify yourself."

I woke up.

Everything around me was pitch black. I was on my back, a throbbing pain at the back of my head which eventually just turned to emptiness, like some part of my brain had been replaced with pure space. Once again, my thoughts and everything I could feel in my unconsciousness drained away into a black pit from which I couldn't retrieve it. My mind felt fractured again, and I struggled to put together the pieces.

Phantom. Yard. Seven.

The key words were still as clear as ever.

Her face. Cow-milk lady.

She came up. Nothing wrong with that memory. Silently simmering in rage, I passed onto the next key memory.

That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh...

I couldn't bring myself to hate it with the same passion I did before.

Or... did I ever hate it? I thought harder. I struggled.

Who am I? What was I doing? Where am I?

I thought back. That was where my memories started to get vague again. I couldn't remember anything except the distant image of a hallway. Instinct started to talk to me, and I rummaged through my pockets. I pulled out the Key, the cloth, the HF hairbrush, and Sam. Sam seemed to be in good spirits. I remembered him clearly.

Hi, birdbrain.

I tucked him back into my pocket. There was something else irritatingly drifting in and out of my head like a bobbing lure. There were two people. Some part of me recognized them, but I couldn't focus.

Some... pale, white-headed kid, I think. And someone else... wrapped with some sort of paper?

I couldn't remember their names. I couldn't remember what they were doing. The longer I thought about it, the weaker the feeling of familiarity became. Soon, I was thinking about two faceless strangers. Very disconcerting. There was only one other thing I could remember to propel me down whatever path I would take next.

I need to get to the top. Be quiet. Be resourceful. Be vigilant. Don't trust anyone you don't know.

I quietly nodded to agree with my own thoughts. I looked around the immediate area.

There was a massive black shaft above me. I swear I could see the vague outline of a dangling staircase above, but it didn't even come close to ground level. Everything else around me was just an ominously silent path stretching left and right as far into the shadow as I could see. The brownish-green, moss-covered bricks comprising the floor, wall, and ceiling were filthy, areas of mud and dirt and other revolting substances stained here and there. I concentrated for any other unnoticed things I could sense. The air burned and it was freezing cold. As I listened closely, I could hear something else.

Water. Rushing water. So quiet but so alluring, coming from the immediate right hallway.

I didn't care if this was a trap. The longer I thought about it, the drier my tongue became and the emptier my stomach was. Where there was water, there was life. Where there was water, there was something good. Water nourished. Water birthed. Water baptized. Water replenished. Water had never deceived people.

Had it?

I didn't care. I'd do anything. Follow anything. I wanted answers more than ever. Not paying any heed to the emptiness at the back of my skull, I rushed down the path as fast as I could, my right arm flopping around uselessly as I went.

Darkness. Darkness.

Everything was darkness for a bit. I yearned for the light.

Darkness. Emptiness. You're alone.

My mind stormed as I ran, an endless vigor propelling me forth.

Who are you? Who am I?

I didn't exist as an individual. Not yet. Right now, I was a blank; a piece of paper with only a few things scribbled onto it. There were pieces of me missing. Pieces of me I didn't understand. I wanted to fold the paper of myself into a beautiful origami paper swan, three-dimensional and whole.

Answers. Answers. Answers.

How many times had I lost my memory?

How many times had I woken up an amnesiac? Where would I go next? When would I lose my memory.

I stopped.

Had I ever lost my memory?

I continued running. I didn't care. I didn't want to care. I wanted to be myself – but I didn't know what "myself" was.

Questions. Answers. Me.

Me.

I silently decided that moment that I'd do anything to rediscover myself.

The sound of rushing water became clear and the path suddenly curved to the left. I turned and a flickering light suddenly banished the darkness. The light emitted from down the hal, as well as the source of the sound, and a refreshing smell went into my nose. The air stung less and the ever-grasping darkness died at the field of light. I approached the source of the light.

As soon as I passed out the hall, I found myself in a sort of rectangular side room. Moss had completely overtaken the walls, rich and green and as vivid as something in this forsaken place could be. There was a crummy wooden table at the center of the room, with a lit, beaming lantern at the side of it. There was a wooden bowl of fruit in the center of the table, smelling overwhelmingly of kiwis. Remarkably, everything – two bananas, a bundle of grapes, an apple, and a s**t-ton of kiwis – seemed fresh. A banana peel had been cast to the left corner of the room. The sound of the water was revealed; from the grate of one pipe to another flowed in sparkling, clean water, passing through the room, stroked by the light and turning a brilliant shade of azure. My mouth watered as best it could just looking at it. At the top left corner was the opening of another elevator, inactive at the moment, and sitting at one of two chairs propped by the table was another person.

Their back was turned to me and they had a teacup filled with the radiant water in their hands. They wore a black, purple-striped hoodie, a bracelet on their right arm, and matching purple-and-black clothing, particularly baggy given the person's fairly lithe frame. They had one leg kicked up over their left, clad in black cleats. Their raven-black hair curled at the end of their neck and seemed unusually sleek and brushed. I thought about brushing it more with the HF hairbrush. I took a step forwards and the person took a sip of the water before casually placing the teacup down on the table.

"Howdy. How can I service you?" they said, catching me by surprise and making me jump. I weakly coughed and they chortled a bit. "Don't be jumpy. I'm docile."

They turned towards me. Their face was locked in a smug-seeming smirk and half-narrowed eyes as blue as the water. I look at their, the HF hairbrush out and my entire form trembling. They stood up and crossed their arms.

"You want to brush my hair? Is that it? It'll cost you," they said. They widened their grin, paused for a moment, and then burst out into laughter at my look of confusion. "Oh, don't look so defensive. I jest. I jest. Haven't seen anyone here for a few weeks..."

I tilted my head. The person walked up to me and offered their hand. "Name's Jilton. I take it you're from the barber shop?" Once again, they laughed hysterically at their own joke.

I felt kind of awkward in their presence. Another face was fine and dandy but their abrupt greetings took me off guard, and I felt a primordial shyness eat at me and make me shrink back. Jilton bared their teeth in a seemingly-amicable grin before they leaned down a little.

"You seem a little dodgy," they said with a wry tone. "You're pale. Sweaty. Filthy..." Jilton took out a hand and suddenly ruffled my hair. I recoiled a full foot away, waving my hand at them, and they laughed again. "You're a real slippery one. What's your name?"

I gave a small grunt and tapped my throat. Jilton's smirk creased a little.

"Can't speak?" they said, a little ruefully. "Must hurt, huh? Bet you got a lot you wanna say. Am I right?"

I quietly nodded and they jostled me again. "Ah, that's alright. I'm cool. I'm with the flow. I think I'll give you a little horn to toot and call you Harpo. Get it? Harpo?" they cackled.

What the f**k was a Harpo?

Upon my blank expression, Jilton cleared their throat. "Ever heard of the Marx brothers, Harpo?"

I shook my head.

"Charlie Chaplin?"

Nope.

"Three Stooges?"

Nada.

"Abbott and Costello? Looney Tunes?" They slowly frowned. "...Adam Sandler?"

My face was as flat and expressionless as a pancake.

Jilton scoffed. "Well, no wonder you come in like such a wreck! You haven't got the fuzziest idea about nothing, Harpo, have you?" I guessed my name was Harpo now. Jilton continued. "Real shame. Well, I can tell you some stuff. This is a real good comedy show, Harpo. Real good. We got the clowns. The acrobats. Vaudevillians, the animators, the stand-ups, the Shakespeareans, the actors, and the funniest guy of them all, the Director."

Clowns? Vaudevillians? Director?

Jilton laughed as I frowned. "Perk up, kiddo. You look like you just heard a bad punchline."

I also guessed Jilton's entire shtick was comedy and show stuff. Neat. Real neat.

Jilton stretched. "I've been keeping in this act for a pretty long while, Harpo. I've been aiming for the high life. Hollywood. I've been helping with the show, and, in return, the folks here have given me a little hotel room, some food, nice clean water, and a one-way ticket to the stage. I'm a natural performer, but I've been stuck in the middle show for way too long now. You see, Harpo, what I want is the gold. The Oscar. Real fame. A ticket right up to the penthouse suite."

I wasn't sure if this was all genuine, whether they was talking in metaphors, or whether they were just nuts. Regardless, they pulled up next to me, evidently catching onto my curiosity on the last bit. They pointed their open hand to the ceiling.

"Up there, Harpo. Top of the tower," they remarked with a star in their eye.

The upper levels. The top. I remembered. Or I just caught their metaphor for once.

"That's where the real magic happens. I made a few deals after some... icky behind-the-scenes nonsense. The Director themselves promised me a spot with a nice Jacuzzi and a view of the world below if I put on a top-notch show. Reel in some nice box office tickets, you know what I'm saying?"

I really didn't. I really didn't. Jilton pat my back.

"I'm always appreciative of a visitor. As I said, nobody's swung by this sorry joint ever since my last payment. Think my employers kinda scare off anyone," they said, chuckling to themselves.

I finally manage to mouth "employers?" in confusion.

Jilton tapped their foot impatiently. "Hey. Harpo. You know sign language? Performer's art. Mimes would love you. But in all seriousness, signing would help you scores. Why don't you just do that, huh?"

Sign language? You could talk through signs? I looked up and shook my head, holding up my useless arm to emphasize my point.

Jilton frowned. "Oi. You're a toughie to crack... Hm. Hah. Hah. Wait here."

Without explaining, they darted back to behind the table to a desk I hadn't seen prior. Jilton rooted around through the contents of the desk before pulling out, to my immense delight and surprise, a notebook and a pen. They walked over and handed it to me.

"Doesn't beat charades, but it gets to the point," they said. "Now, since I imagine you've got a trove of questions, fire away, Harpo!"

I tapped the pen against my chin, pondering. What was the most important question I could ask? I could vaguely remember weird, suited-up entities in the broken recesses of my memories and quietly associated the word "Suit" with them; I assume that's what they meant by "employers." I placed the notebook down on the table to keep it steady, and used my working hand to sloppily jot down a question to Jilton.

who's the director?

They smiled. "Good question. I have no idea."

I deadpanned in irritation.

Jilton continued, nonetheless. "Sketchy business, it is, but they're the person responsible for running this whole wacky show. Never seen them with my own two eyes, but they're a savvy individual. They know a good act when they see one. They've acted through proxies and employees so far, but I've had the lucky chance to talk with one of their higher-ups. They've promised to let me go up to the tip if I can just give 'em one real good performance. How's that? They're a swell fellow!"

I slowly nodded to myself. Director. They must have been responsible for running this hellhole. They had answers. I knew they would. Jilton was my closest chance to getting at them – at getting out of here. I silently wrote another word and showed it to Jilton.

performance?

Jilton nodded. "That's right. Theatrics. A show. A hootenanny. Something to entertain." They seemed to ponder for a moment. "Maybe it'd be better to show you? The next show's in..." They looked at a watch I hadn't seen on them prior. "...four hours. I can get you a front-row seat, Harpo. It'll be a riot!"

Why not?

I nodded and smiled. Jilton's cocky-looking smirk relaxed to something a little more genuine as they saw me smile. "There we are. There's the smiling face I like to see in an audience member. You're frank adorable, you know that?"

I scrunched up my face. The f**k did I even look like? I looked around for anything reflective and finally settled on the clear water. Jilton noticed I seemed inattentive.

"Hungry, eh?" they said. "Pop here for a bit. Shabby heating and not much space, but the water's good and the fruit's free. Help yourself, Harpo."

I didn't really care about any formalities at this stage. I was just grateful to have food, water, a friend, and maybe some goddamned answers. I walked over to the stream and peered over to see my reflection.

Surprise, surprise. I was actually pretty feminine-looking. Plain, chestnut brown hair that fell to the back of my neck, scruffy, wild and dirty, as Jilton had noted, and a brown-eyed, young teenish-looking face. Clothes were basically in tatters; my t-shirt had been caked with dirt and piss-looking substances and there were holes in it. I was dirty as s**t, too, beat up everywhere with bruises and cuts I hadn't even noticed. I looked like horse s**t. Regardless, I smiled wildly, glad I could finally look at myself.

At least my teeth were white.

With not one more second of hesitation, I dunked my head in, opened my mouth, and let the fresh, nutrient-rich water enter my mouth. I took a few massive gulps before rearing my soaking head up with a gasp. Jilton was laughing behind me, faint through the water now plugging my ears. I continued to swig as much water as I could, splashing water all over my face and body and using the hairbrush to finally straighten out my filthy hair. At the end of it, I was sopping wet, refreshed, and looking a little cleaner. My hair, at least, was straighter, glistening with water, and not as dirt-caked. Shampoo would've done a much better job, but what I got what what I got. I reared up, shaking my head, and walking over to the table to start mowing down on the excess of kiwis within the bowl. Jilton watched with amusement as I bit into kiwi after kiwi, not even bothering to peel the skin off. They were sweet. So, so sweet. Relief and happiness washed over my figure and I felt my mind relax for the first time since I had woken up. As soon as I felt satisfied, five of the thirteen kiwis now gone, I took out the notebook, wrote, and showed my immense gratitude to Jilton with another wide smile on my face.

thank you! for everything!

Jilton shrugged and humbly brushed it aside. "Oh, don't mention it, Harpo. You looked a little roughed up there and it's a real shame to see someone all cut up and miserable like that."

I grinned, flipped to a new page in the notebook, and drew a hideously crude smiley face. The final result looked somewhere between the inside of an asshole and the Joker. I showed it to Jilton and they burst out laughing.

"Oh, my..." they said, with playful mockery. "Now that's comedy. Go to an art school, Harpo."

They laughed loudly. I did the same, although no real vocalization accompanied it. Jilton leaned down and looked at me.

"Now for my questions," they said. "What's your story, huh? Name? Career? Why'd you end up in this ragged state?"

I shrugged and wrote laconically and directly.

don't know my name. don't know where i came from. no idea what any of this is.

Jilton snorted. "Amnesia, huh? You wake up, and you can't remember anything. Cliché plot if I've ever heard one, am I right?"

I silently giggled a bit. I could appreciate their humor a little more now that we were on closer terms.

They quietly looked up. "Kind of relatable, honestly. I don't really remember anything before four weeks ago. That's how long I've been running the business. Everything before that's soulless black."

I looked at them and considered things. Who else aside from Jilton and those two other people I remembered were there?

Jilton looked back at me, their face serious. "You and me? We're kin. Partners. Yin and yang. Comedy and tragedy. I can feel it. I've known you for only a half-hour and I already know you better than any of the Director's sketchy staff. They're nice fellows, I guess, but they're standoffish and a little gossipy. Never good for show business, that." They paused. "I'll find a way for you, Harpo. You and me. Living it up in the penthouse suite. I'll help you remember who you were and you help me do the same for myself. That a promise?"

I didn't hesitate to place all my trust in them.

yes!

Jilton grinned widely. "Terrific! Fantabulous! I think you'll like the show, Harpo. Mmm, I'm sure the Director'll like you too. Oh, I can't wait. Business is gonna be booming for us!..."

We sat by and chatted the hours away, thinking about the future.

The future did not hold bright things.