For All Eternity

For Eternity

         Johnny Tong loved football very much. Too much, his mother once even said. And she was right too, for all he did day and night, when he wasn’t sleeping or eating or working in the office, was play football with a bunch of lanky kids from around the neighbourhood. One day, he suffered a stroke, and found himself on the hospital bed, close to death. And he knew it. And if he ever had a last wish, it would probably have been to play football one last time. It didn't come true. One rainy evening, as his parents and wife stood beside him, he passed away.

         It therefore came as a surprise to him when he woke up the next morning. He wasn't in the hospital; instead, he found himself in place where everything was clouded in white swirling mists, and he could barely see beyond his outstretched hands. After stumbling for awhile, during which he wondered where he was, the mists cleared in front of him, and revealed a tall man in an entirely black outfit, with black moustache and hair and, of course, black eyes. Smiling, the man in black approached Johnny.

         “So, was your journey eventful?” the strange man asked.

         “Journey? What journey?” Johnny asked. “Can you tell me where I am?”

         “So you don’t know?” the man asked. When Johnny shook his head, the man sighed. “I hate to do this every time someone comes knocking on my door, especially when it happens so often.”

         Johnny stared at him with a blank expression, wondering what the man was babbling about.

         The man looked at Johnny pitifully and said, “My friend, you have gone beyond the realms of the living, and entered the sphere of the immortal plain, albeit one where there’s only suffering. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the other plain.”

         Upon seeing the blank look on Johnny’s face, he simplified, “You are dead, and you stand now at the gates of Hell.”

         A look of horror passed over Johnny’s face, and he repeated, “Hell? But…”

         He didn’t know what to say. He knew he was dead: the pain he felt in his brain during the last moment of his life had ensured him of that, but to come to hell? I guessed I should have seen that coming, he thought. After all, what was he doing when his mother lay sick on her bed? He played football. Where was he when his wife fell down the stairs on the way to the market? He was in the park, playing football with the neighbourhood kids. Where was he when he should have been caring for his injured wife? Playing football, of course! And when his pastor told him to do more church service, he had said, “If any of you priests want to take a break and play football, you know who to call.”

         “And,” the strange man continued, shaking Johnny out of his reverie, “I am the one who is in charge here.”

         “You mean you’re the Devil?”

         “I have so many names that I have forgotten what my true name really is. It doesn’t matter, though, you can call me whatever you want.”

         “Oh, okay,” Johnny said, feeling something was amiss. “Mr Devil,” he added, remembering his manners.

         “I sense you have a question you’d like to ask.”

         Johnny looked at the Devil, and asked stupidly, “So you’re the Devil. But where’re your horns? And your pitchfork? And the burning pits where you torture souls?”

         The Devil looked at him, a small smile spreading across his face. Putting his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, he said, “Never mind that. Now, come. Don’t you want to see where you’ll be spending the rest of eternity?”

         Johnny felt gloom flood all over him. He had forgotten that part of being in hell.

         “Being the Devil,” the Devil continued as they walked, “it’s my duty to ensure that all the residents here enjoy as much as they’re allowed to. So, what is it that you enjoy most?”

         “I love football.”

         “Ah, yes. They call it the beautiful game, don’t they?”

         Johnny nodded. “It is…was my life,” he amended with sadness. I would never be able to play football again, he thought.

         Seeing the sad look on Johnny’s face, the Devil said something unexpected. “Don’t worry about it. From now on, it will be your life.”

         Johnny looked at the Devil with wide eyes. “You mean…I can…football?”

         The Devil nodded with a sly smile.

         Johnny couldn’t believe it. Football had been his life, and now that he was dead, he was being offered to play football. For all eternity!

         “I don’t really know why earthlings like to think of Hell as a terrible place. Especially when it offers so much to the dead,” the Devil sighed again, seeing the smile breaking all over Johnny’s face. They walked on a bit longer, and Johnny couldn’t hide his smile, anticipating his new home, wondering if he was dreaming.

         Then the Devil stopped. They had arrived in front of a huge, polished wooden door, on which was a sign saying “WELCOME TO HELL”.

         As Johnny made to step through it, the Devil held him back. “Before you step in, think of all the things that you wanted about football in your life. Think of whom you want to play with, at where, and how. Think of everything, and only then must you step in.”

         Johnny nodded and thought. Whom did he want to play with? And at where? The answer came instantly. His favourite football club was Liverpool, and their stadium was the best place he could think of. Nodding to the Devil, Johnny stepped in. He gasped when he saw what lay beyond the door.

         A packed stadium, full with shouting supporters in the Liverpool’s colour were cheering at him. There were huge banners with the words “LIVERPOOL IS THE BEST” and “LIVERPOOL FOR EVER” all throughout the stadium. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked at the two teams standing on the football pitch. One was Liverpool while the other was their bitter rivals Manchester United. The Liverpool players seemed to be beckoning at him.

         He stepped onto the football pitch and fell his mouth fall to the floor. He was standing on a world class football pitch, the type every footballer wanted to play on. It was so green, so fresh and so shiny it seemed to reflect all the flashes of light from around the stadium. As he bent down and breathed in the sweet fragrance of fresh grass, a Liverpool player called out to him.

         “Hello, you are playing with us today, right? The manager has made you the captain for today.”

         When Johnny looked up and saw the tall, brown-haired footballer with blue eyes, he thought his heart must have leapt out of his ribcage. Standing in front of him was none other than Steven Gerard, his favourite football player.

         “You are the captain today,” the Liverpool player repeated.

         Johnny could not believe his ears. He was going to play football for his favourite team in his favourite stadium. And that wasn’t enough; he was also going to be the captain of his team! Johnny had never felt so happy before. If I have to spend an eternity like this, I would gladly do so, he thought.

         Then he felt a shadow fall upon him. He turned around and found the Devil standing behind, a smile still upon his face.

         “Isn’t it perfect? The crowd, the team, football pitch, everything?” the Devil asked.

         Johnny looked around, and noticed the sky. It was azure blue, with clouds dotting here and there. It was perfect, except for…

         “I think the temperature is a bit too hot. Could you lower it, please?” Johnny asked daringly.

         The Devil’s smile became wider, and he said, “Of course, anything for our residents.”

         The temperature lowered considerably, and Johnny felt that finally, everything was in its place. There was still one thing missing though, the thing that made football so much fun.

         “Okay, now that everything is perfect, you can give me the ball so that I can start playing it. Make it a perfect ball, okay?” Johnny said cheekily, smiling to the Devil.

         The Devil looked at him for a while before replying. “Ball? We don't have any balls here.”

         A long silence ensued, during which Johnny looked expectantly at the Devil, thinking that the Devil will start punching the air and laugh aloud, saying that it was just a joke. But the Devil did no such thing. He just stared at Johnny, the never-ceasing smile ever present on his face.

         “No ball?”

         The Devil shook his head and continued smiling.

         “But...” Johnny felt despair creeping in again. Then what was the purpose of having all this, he wondered. “How am I to...the ball, it's the most important...why?”

         “That's why this is called Hell, my friend,” the Devil answered. “You see, Hell isn't about the horns, or pitchforks, or the burning pits full of suffering souls. No, Hell is about you and your greatest, innermost desire. It's about being so close to it that you can almost touch it. But only just almost.” The Devil looked triumphantly at Johnny, and continued. “Because in Hell, you simply can't.”

         No, Johnny screamed in his mind, this can't be...this shouldn't be happening. The Devil was right; there was no need for a fire, or horns or any weapons to torture anyone. Just dangling them this close to their desires, where they can see and hear it, but can never experience it is enough to drive anyone mad. And for it to last all eternity...Gloom, unhappiness, sorrow, misery and hopelessness all started invading Johnny one after another. No...

         “That's all that I need to do for you,” the Devil said. “I hope you enjoy your game. For eternity.” As he began laughing, the swirling mist engulfed him. When it cleared, he was nowhere to be seen.

         Johnny looked at around the perfect stadium, at the roaring fans, at his favourite footballers. Everyone was looking at him, happy. Everyone except for Johnny.

         No, please...

-The End-