Sunday, May 1, 2011

Practice 2

I’m walking down the hallway. It’s dark, smelling of rotting trash and mildew. Further along the hallway are doors, several on each side and all are closed. Most of the doors are dark; a few have a pale, sickly light escaping from beneath them. I come upon a pair of doors, one on the left, one on the right. I try the knob on the door to the left, it turns freely but the door remains closed. I try pushing harder thinking that the moisture in this dank place has caused the wood frame to swell. No luck, the door is still wedged firmly shut. Frustrated, I throw my shoulder into the door. The only thing I accomplish is to cause my already aching shoulder to scream in pain. The right door is the same, it won’t budge. The doors aren’t locked but something is causing them to remain closed.

I hear a muffled crash behind me and turn toward the sound. That is the way I came and I know there are no windows there. A crash again, more distinct this time. I walk slowly down the hall, cautious of every step and straining to hear every noise. But there are no further sounds to hear. There is a door on the right, one that I don’t remember seeing before. This is where the sounds originated. Behind this door could be the answer that I’m looking for.

I lean toward the door, turning my head to the left as I listen for any more sounds. There are none. Straightening back up I again look at the door. It is made of wood and painted the deep red shade of fresh blood. On the door is a symbol made of a shining silver metal, meticulously made and perfectly finished. I can see myself reflected off of it. The symbol is a horizontally oriented dagger with a rose vertically behind it. I don’t know what it means but seeing the symbol fills my heart with dread and anxiety. As I reach for the door I feel a chill reach my spine causing me to shake violently for a couple of seconds. The shakes stop as I withdraw my hand.

There’s nothing there, stop being a baby. Suck it up and just open the damn thing. Hell, this one probably won’t open either.

Encouraging words, but I don’t believe myself. I am afraid; something evil is behind this portal. I don’t want to open this door but I must know. I hesitatingly reach my right hand toward the knob, pausing halfway. There are no shakes this time. I reach the knob. Taking a deep breath I attempt to turn it. But the knob won’t move. Placing my left hand on the knob with my right I try again. Straining, I feel a slight give, the knob emitting a screech that sets my teeth on edge. It’s as if a build-up of rust has started breaking free. I alternate the direction the knob is turned, gaining a little more motion and with each attempt. Finally, the screech stops and a loud click from the knob. There is a pop as the door is freed from it’s frame.

I look at the door. I can see that sickly light around the whole of the door now, through the gap that releasing the door from the frame has created. Breathing deeply I close my eyes.

All this way. All the loss and here it is. Do it for them.

I reach my right hand out to the door. Placing my hand upon it I pause. It has to be done. I breathe deeply one more time and shove the door all the way open.

And that's it for practice 2. I know what I have to work on and I will come back to this one after a bit more experimenting. And more practice, of course.

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