The Mad Gate"

When you open an old, crumbling volume, you notice a wad of densely written notes have fallen to the floor. You pick them up and read...

The notes you're reading now concern my miserable life, or more precisely, everything that happened just after my fourteenth birthday. As I write this, I'm slowly approaching forty, and even though such a long time has passed, I still remember everything. It all began, as I mentioned earlier, when I turned fourteen. That same night, I had a nightmare. I was standing in the center of a circle that reminded me uncannily of Stonehenge. It seemed to differ only in size. Its diameter was much smaller. The kind of circle that could only hold four people standing upright. The light falling into its very center made me see my own shadow perfectly. All this was intentional, because after a moment, my shadow seemed to separate from me. It became a separate entity. He took a few steps back and uttered the memorable words:

"Canicius, the gate is your future. Your path of roses."

I could even see his lips moving as he spoke those words. It was an extraordinary sensation. His voice came from all directions, echoing loudly. When it faded into dead silence, my shadow entered me in one swift leap. I felt something inside me break, split in half... and then I woke up. I don't remember screaming or being afraid at all, and all I was left with was an unbearable dry mouth. But my brain had recorded it all on one of its millions of cassette tapes. Almost every day, it played that tape for me, causing me unimaginable torture. Only today did everything quiet down in my head. The following days were relatively normal, except for the moments when images from the nightmare resurfaced in my mind. These moments were fleeting, however, and after three or four days, I began to get used to them. So I spent most of my time killing myself, watching countless TV shows, surfing the internet, chatting with friends at school, pretending to study, etc. In short, the normal life of someone my age. This period didn't last long, however, and about a month later, the nightmare returned in a completely new form. I was already lying in bed, waiting for sleep to overtake me, for me to achieve that blissful state, both for body and soul. Finally, I fell asleep, but my thoughts rebelled against me and refused to think about anything. Again, the same scene: a circle of stones, me in the center, my shadow beside me, the light falling precisely in the center of the circle. Again, the shadow separated from me, and then a booming voice came from all directions. This time, each word was carefully articulated, intoned: You are the chosen one... The gate is your goal... Don't waste your chance when it comes... You won't get a second chance. I can't say how long I remained in this state of consciousness, between wakefulness and sleep. I also don't remember how or when, but the next day I woke up in my parents' bed. I, a fourteen-year-old boy, was sleeping with my parents. They were sound asleep, as the digital clock read 6:33. I don't know if they knew I'd slept with them, and since they didn't say anything afterward and acted normal, I assume they didn't even suspect it. Only when I went to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water, only to finally wake up, did I see a medium-sized gash on my right arm, just below the elbow. It wasn't deep, and the blood had stopped flowing. It looked more like a precise surgical incision. Simple, perfect, and yet it stirred a feeling of fear within me. The whole thing unsettled me. I was tired and frightened. I wanted to hide away somewhere alone, somewhere I could also be safe. It worked, so I feigned illness, staying in bed and complaining of a headache and sore throat. I stayed home alone, hopeful I'd spend the whole day killing myself. I repeated it silently, cursed loudly, and even tried to threaten him...Unknowingly, I took a step toward my destiny, toward where I am now. On that fateful day, my life changed forever. At high noon, while I was watching television, the voices spoke again. This time, a rhythmic song echoed in my head, its melodic, lengthening words beginning as a nonsensical mush:

Aaaabbbbyyyyysssssoooolllloowww ...

I surrendered to the will of this hypnotic voice and did exactly as it told me. I turned all the taps on the gas stove to maximum, then, involuntarily, as if I were some kind of remote-controlled robot, I quickly left the house. I walked perhaps a kilometer, walking down the middle of the street. In the process, I triggered numerous honks of horns, which were drowned out by a tremendous roar. A fiery glow filled the northern horizon. I sat in the middle of the street as if nothing had happened, clearly waiting for something. It wasn't the voice telling me to wait anymore; it was my body refusing to obey my will. I felt like a caged animal, unaware of what was happening to it. Most irritated drivers just cursed and avoided me. There was, however, an exception. One of them had clearly had enough of my "oil." He got out of the car, I heard a metallic clang, and he approached me and started shouting something. It was extraordinary because it was at that moment that I somehow shut myself off. All the sounds of the surrounding reality filtered through as if through a massive wall or a noise filter. When the medium-sized man saw that his screams were getting nowhere, he grabbed my shirt. I was too heavy to lift with one hand, so he decided to use the other to help himself. He began to bring his other hand closer. He started because he had never brought it closer before... I have no idea what happened to me then, but I felt an unimaginable power surge through me. It's hard to describe. My own hands grabbed that approaching hand with incredible speed and force. He certainly hadn't expected this. The crack of bones, a cry of pain... The man was writhing in pain a moment later. As if that weren't enough, my hands pulled the man closer, curled in a fetal position. Then my head lowered to his, as if to kiss him, and my teeth bit painfully into his right cheek. Pain, despair, astonishment, blood, and me standing over it all. I, a frail fourteen-year-old, was just a passive observer, as distraught and terrified as the man. Yet I felt remorse, as if I had done it with full premeditation. Attempted murder with full knowledge of one's actions—that's what they call it in legal parlance. By then, alone, without any supernatural influence, I sat down in resignation. I had suicidal thoughts: The worst they could do is run me over, I'd die on the spot. So what... at least I'd find peace. But death wasn't meant for me; I hadn't wasted my chance, and an hour later I took another step toward the Gate. The police arrived quite quickly, as did an ambulance. They took my victim. They took me too. A policeman asked me all sorts of questions, all designed to prove the obvious: I was the perpetrator. From the very beginning, the officer had no doubts. To him, I was a juvenile psychopath, capable of such a brutal act. That's how I ended up in my final home, right before the Gate.It was here that my destiny was to be fulfilled... I was declared insane and committed to the Andrzej Wronek Psychiatric Hospital in Rzeszów. My life never returned to normal. My parents earned a decent living, so they quickly recovered and settled in, I heard, some apartment building. They did visit me a few times, but I especially saw hatred mixed with shame in my father's eyes. When they saw me, my mother cried, and my father paced restlessly. The doctors made their diagnosis, which they said I suffered from a very rare mental disorder called paranoid schizophrenia. For a long time afterward, I could still taste the driver's blood. Such a taste in my mouth always heralded the next task I was to fulfill. My taskmaster, or rather, my tasksmasters, were my own thoughts, or more precisely, the Voice. I had completed many of these missions. Each one was different from the next: take it, lie down, scream... All these and many other seemingly simple actions were performed at the behest of my thoughts. One of them is worth a longer description because it was the penultimate assignment before the climax. It was when I turned 38, and for good behavior—it's worth mentioning that this was also my mission—they decided to transfer me to a better facility. They said I'd get better food, better care, and even be able to watch TV whenever I wanted. I wasn't interested.

Either way, everything went wrong that day. Around noon, the entire procedure began, and with it, many activities. Something like this would probably be unthinkable in the United States or other more developed countries. I think they should have prepared me properly first, meaning handcuffed me in the cell, and only then escorted me out. But then it was quite the opposite. The door opened, and a well-built man in a blue uniform entered. He grabbed my arms and dragged me outside. Another man, also a policeman, stood in the hallway a little further away. Then I felt the familiar power seep into me again. In the blink of an eye, my teeth were embedded in his cheek. A scream, an involuntary reflex of my hand to protect myself. It was a bad move; even before the other man had drawn his weapon, I had twisted his arm and bit off one of his fingers. He lay there, convulsing, when one of the shots rang out. In the narrow corridor, the roar of the gunshot was immense, deafening. I approached the shooter with a strange movement. Every step I took was carefully considered. A sideways jump, a ducking. I moved like a pro, even better, thanks to my incredible speed. Before I reached him, he managed to hit me once. I was hit in the right shoulder, but I felt no pain at all. I felt a surge of excitement, a bloodlust, filling me. A moment later, he too lay convulsing. Blood, screams, even tears...

I raised his pistol and, looking him in the eye, fired two shots. I repeated the same action with the second one. It wasn't me, but I had long since come to terms with the fact that I could never win against my own thoughts. I wasn't lost; on the contrary, I knew exactly what to do next. I was certain that today, the culmination of my efforts would soon come. I would join my shadow, and the dreams would vanish, and with them, peace would come. Or maybe it would all turn out to be a bad dream, and I would still be a fourteen-year-old boy, going to school. Now, as I write this, I know my dreams proved illusory, though not entirely. I perfectly avoided all the guards because I knew where they were. And so, at a brisk pace, I reached the main corridor. A few steps away, visible, was the entrance door, but that wasn't my goal. My goal was the intricate Gate, not some rusty, creaking door. It was no longer the Voice, but something entirely different, more powerful, that drew me, leading me to the church hall. I had been here many times, but I had never seen what was now clearly visible to me. On the left wall, the light, shining through the barred shutter, showed me bricks arranged in the shape of a gate arch. Apparently, there had indeed once been a gate here, but it had been concreted over to create a new wall. But after a while, the bricking up of my Gate began to seem suspicious. Paranoid thoughts invaded me, that they had done it on purpose, that they had betrayed me, that they, those scoundrels, wanted to hinder me, wanted to destroy everything... In retrospect, I see the state my stay in that madhouse had brought me to, because no one but me knew about the Gate. It was meant only for me. I approached, walking slowly toward the wall. The facade of the entire building began to shake. All the church paraphernalia in the nave clattered to the ground. I heard screams, footsteps, and the crack of a wall breaking apart. I stood before the wall. I could touch it within arm's reach. Everything collapsed, leaving only the brick Gate. Beyond it, I saw only darkness, yet without the slightest hesitation, I stepped through. Behind me, I left the crumbling hospital building, the false world... I fell into a dark abyss. I fell and fell... Thus ended my life back then, because it had changed for the better. Yes, because I am alive! I am where I am. I am finally happy, but I can tell you nothing more. For you who rejected me, it is not worth wasting such opportunities...

Here, the meticulous handwriting breaks off, and you can only guess what lies beyond the Gate.