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The Wooden Doors

Short story By: Gyjit
Other



There's no way out of a room full of doors.


Submitted:Jul 4, 2008    Reads: 121    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Stuck, same and same again; forever to see this room with walls so high and doors abound. But those doors lead only back into this room. I can't stand it, I never hunger, I never sleep, I don't feel anything - just stuck looking for that exit. Time and time again I see doors appear, disappear, reappear, and disappear again. I'm sure one of those doors must lead to an exit! I must leave this hell that has me trapped. It's been so long, I don't recall how I came to this place or what's even outside of these walls.

I keep wandering through these doors, they mock me, laugh at me; they enjoy my torment, those doors. They look down at me as they appear on the ceiling, snickering as they appear on the floor, talking as they appear from behind. They must be the ones that imprisoned me in such a place, who else could do it. They're alive! How else can they keep moving around the room? Or have I gone mad?

But, does it really matter anymore? What's the point when I don't even remember what's out there for me? No love, no family, no friends, nothing at all - so why bother. Again these doors shift, phase, warp, and reappear, but their attempts are useless, I don't care anymore. What's this? A door opened by itself, wide open, I can see the sky, the grass, the outside world; the breeze freshens my lungs, the birds bring music to my ears, the sung brings warmth to my skin. And what's that I see? People too?

Who cares, there's nothing out there for me.





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