Life and/or God

As he ran down the hallway, the many doors opened before him, their glistening innards mewling to be petted. Their mystique beckoned to his starved imagination. A glance into one revealed a complex web of machinery intertwined with biological horrors. With a peek into another he saw a giant map spread across the floor, with a volcano in the center and the sounds of screaming coming from the many scattered villages. Past the next door frame; the slaves toiling in a field of crucifixes showed no emotion. A gathering of fish sat in an underwater courtroom. A Lone Motorbike Rider drove along the empty floating highway, keeping the fiery sunlit clouds company. An eclipse in the sky beamed a bright light across the horizon, while the remnants of the human race shot up-wards in their sparkling rockets. A bunch of earrings tried on screaming human women in a jewelry store. A caveman whooped for joy at the first spark of a fire, but burned himself on the smoldering stick. Another door opened and a purple flash seared the retinas, but with it came the unmistakable able sounds of New Orleans jazz. Yet the sounds were cut off when he felt the wind from the opening of the next door tickle his earlobes. Along with the wind came smells, the likes of which he'd never thought existed; they lodged in the entrails of his memory, never to escape.
He was beaten senseless, literally, because the separate experiences were too great. He forced himself to think of his destination, in order to escape this agony of creative randomness. In doing so, he ignored the passing wonders, and would later weep for the joys he had missed.