my story

The door stood in front of me, and I stood in front of the door. 

The peeling black paint. creaky old handle and rough, old wood basically beckoned me towards it.

“Come on, don’t you want to see what’s on the other side?” the door jeered at me. 

I stumbled back lightly, not to wake up my family sleeping below. The ancient floorboards beneath my cold feet encapsulated every minute movement I made, making my mission a lot harder than it really should’ve been. Mission, you say? Yeah. 

My entire life, opening the door was never a question. Not that I knew it existed, someone else had to know about it though. But nor was it an option. An unspoken rule hanging above my existence, alongside the existence of others, deeming entering through the door a taboo act. After the first time, someone stepped our rectangle-shaped orifice in the wall, the second time was indefinitely banned from occurring. But enough is enough for me. I want to know the truth of what lies beyond this tabooed wall, even if it means I can’t return. 

Not that I want to anyways. 

Slowly but surely, I crept towards the door. Each tiny step a breath. The feeling in my toes was disappearing, unable to hold all the weight of my body, a horrifying feeling really. Each tiny patter, a loud creak echoed throughout the room. For a moment I thought I heard a sound. My heart rate dropping to zero and all the blood in my face suitably running back to my cold toes, I silently breathed my relief, before turning back to the door. If anyone found me trying to enter through the door, I’d be sent away, never seen again. 

But in the end, don’t both means of trying to open the door end up with that result anyway?

Shaking my head, I crept a few more steps and definitely before I knew it, the door was right in front of me. Looking up close, I noticed more things about the door than ever before. I’d never been so close to it, despite its presence in my home for so long. Slowly but surely, my shivering hand reached out towards the handle. Gently pressing my hand against the cool metal was enough to send a cold breeze of goosebumps across my spine, despite my comfy residence in my sweater.

I slowly opened the door.

Nothingness.

Why did I come here again?

I can’t remember the reason.

Who am I?

What am I? 

“Hello” a voice appeared from the darkness around me. Despite the presumably desolate environment, the soft, but strong tone didn’t manage to send out any strange echo like you’d hear if this was a horror movie. But the voice, withholding all its curiosity and innocence still managed to freak me out, making me jump and stumble backwards. 

“How lame.” the voice got closer as it spoke. Hearing footsteps coinciding, I rapidly jumped up.

“Who are you?” I stuttered, barely managing to hold up a brave front.

Suddenly, a light appeared in front of me, along with the beholder of the voice.

A small girl stepped out of the darkness.

“That’s what I should be asking you.”

“I’ve come to find the secret”

“What secret do you seek?”

“The mystery of the door”

“Ah, that mystery you speak”

The girl began to walk away, startling me. I jumped to follow her.

“So can you tell me? The secret?”

Halt. The girl turns to look at me, stunned. A small twinge of annoyance crosses her face.

“You’ve come here to find out the secret. You are here now. That is the secret. There is nothing else for you here”.

“But-”

“Goodbye.”

Briskly skipping away, the girl left me in the dark. 

I stood there, stunned.

All that. All that only for it to end like this. 

What did I want from this? An ending? How do you end a story doomed from the beginning?

I wanted it to end. I thought this was the way. Nothing comes back from this door. I could lay beyond the border, between the cold wood floor and this dark subspace. Nothing exists here.  But everything exists here, at the exact same time. 

Slumping over, I think.

I’ve been wishing for this moment my entire life. For it to end.

I thought the door, which I don’t even know if is actually real or not at this point, metaphor or real wooden being, would be my escape from the daily facade of my life. I don’t care about anything. Why am I crying?

Tears well in my eyes, rushing down my cheeks, each droplet hitting the floor as if the darkness were water. I close my eyes, drowning in sorrow. But before I know it, something transforms.

Slowly opening one eye, then the other, a wave of realisation crashes over me like a lone swimmer in the midst of a tsunami. 

What was the darkness is now water, the black abyss above, the starry night sky and my woeful tears into purple lilypads. Flowers stretch as far as the eye amongst this candlelit nowhere. After I take in what surrounds me I turn to the front of the golden boat I am planted in.

There stands the girl and here sits I, whom I now know.

“It isn’t your time yet” 

She points to another boat passing, manned by a figure in a dark cloak. The figure drags a staff through the lilypads, turning them all black in the process. More figures sit in the boat, some covered in blood, some young, some old. Some with marks around their necks. 

“Though one day, you amongst all humans are destined to return here. But for today, you are to live. The door is a boundary no person should feel they need to cross. Because then, I, Life will not have any work to do”. The girl called Life smiled sweetly at me, 

“Please live, you are needed on the other side”.

I want to speak, but an invisible piece of barbed wire stops the words from coming out. I choke and stutter, tears streaming. Thank you for stopping me.

“I-”

I lay on the wooden floor. Heaving myself up onto all fours, my tears hit the floor. But lilypads do not appear this time. Nor endless patches of flowers or a starry night sky. There is no secret or pretentious meaning now. There is only life and death. The only secret is to keep going. I am going to live.