Was it the working of the Virgin Mary that caused the door behind the side altar to appear before the eyes of believers? That is unknown. What’s certain, nevertheless, is that whenever somebody walked through that door, their life completely changed.
It’ll be about ten years since Hela Majchrzak discovered the door behind the side altar, and that’s how it all started. It happened to be her turn on Thursday, so off she went to clean the church. Along the way, she picked some flowers in the meadow to reward the Virgin Mary for having to stand there out of sight like that, even though in a new dress, freshly gold-plated, done in the spring per the pastor’s request. A special committee looked after the dress, because the church is old and everything inside is under special supervision. Why it happened, nobody knows to this day. Maybe it was true that the Blessed Virgin fell off the socle out of rage. After all, it was twice that she showed up in people’s dreams and both times said she didn’t want any gold on her dress. The pastor didn’t listen, the statue shattered into pieces and the door appeared from behind the plaster. Things went mighty quick from there. Hela screamed, people came running, and with joint efforts they opened the door. Common sense would tell it didn’t lead anywhere, but actually it did. It wasn’t the first time the human mind was proven too narrow to grasp the complete truth. Backside was the church garden, with espaliered magnolias, and behind the door something like a cloud of dust swirling and refusing to settle. Right away, somebody started whispering that this was some impure business and nobody wanted to step over the threshold first. Finally, Majchrzak shrugged his shoulders as he wasn’t bothered, laughed off all the superstitious jabbering, took a step inside, and disappeared. He didn’t return for three days, and on the fourth, he finally emerged—all quiet, calm, and at peace with life like never before. “Go,” he said. “Go in there. Go and see for yourselves.” One after another, people started walking through the door. Just beyond the entrance, each one was hit with all of their regrets, and long-lost memories. Granting a chance at life anew—only this time taking a better lead. Whoever made a mistake was given another shot. Those who took a wrong turn in the past, could now choose the right direction. Any wasted chances were available to be taken again—with a guarantee that after, one would return to their present self at peace. Only those who didn’t see anything in the dust were assured they steered their life well up until here and now. For half a year, the town glowed with emptiness. Because one day the post office was closed, then the bakery, and even the town hall, a timetable was made for appointments. Everyone wanted a face-to-face meeting with the past, to see if there was anything they could’ve done better. The pastor turned a blind eye to everything. Such is the unwritten law here, that the divine doesn’t watch humans too closely, and vice versa. He lost his patience, however, when the whole crew of dairy workers returned through the door right in the middle of mass. The pastor locked it with three bolts and only tolerated those returning after them. Where he hid the key, nobody knew. He threatened that anyone who tried again would be denied absolution, and without absolution there’d be no Kingdom of Heaven. Up there, they have their ways to check. The pastor never even peeked through that portal himself, and after giving it some thought, he turned to science for help. Science didn’t offer much, or perhaps it didn’t want to. Of the ten experts that put their mind to it, three just plain disappeared. It was the first time, it turned out, that you could not come back from behind the door at all. There came a time when everyone had settled their dreams and there was no more need to go to the other side. Some were even a little troubled by the lack of uncertainty in personal affairs. To regret nothing was like living half a life—seemingly fulfilled, but somehow incomplete. People started talking that it was high time to brick up the door and return the Blessed Virgin to her old spot. Nobody protested or noticed that the pastor quietly left the vote. It was already dark when the glow over town lit up the path to Heaven. Whoever could—ran over to help put out the fire, but the flame, cleverly kindled from the inside and got ahead of them all. Only then did people start asking where the pastor was, because he’d gone missing, plain vanished. The firefighters didn’t find anything and nobody tried to escape from inside the closed church. Apparently the dream of a better life can prove stronger than anything. They built up a new church in a year, but the memory of the old one remained. Sometimes they say it was all a dream, and maybe it was. But then again, have you ever heard of a dream that everyone dreamed at once? Translated from the Polish by Mark Ordon This translation was re-edited for context and accuracy on November 17, 2022.
