The Cell Door

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story written out of the darkness of infidelity. A prison cell, my mind, seemingly inescapable. Can hope be found?

Submitted: November 28, 2014

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Submitted: November 28, 2014

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The Cell Door

 

I am in a prison, dark, musty, cold.  The days are small eternities and the nights excruciating.  I am allowed visitors, and for fleeting moments, I see glimmers of hope of a possible escape.  Without warning, that warmth and sunlight is cut short by the slamming shut of the cold steel cell door.  How did I get here I often ponder coming to an immediate realization that it was the choices of an intimate friend, confidant, lover, wife, that sentenced me.  My heart hurts. Not so much that open wound, might die kind of hurt anymore, but more like stepping on a nail. Every time pressure is put on that foot, the constant reminder of the cause runs through the nervous system reminding my whole body over and over again.  I am so thirsty, I need quenching.  A knock, and the door creeps open.  A man steps in dressed in white.  His demeanor is inviting, his eyes kind, his smile oddly calming.  So out of sorts he is.  “I thought you might like a cold glass of water.”  His voice could calm a storm.  “Go away,” I mutter, sinking my head deeper into my hands.  “Justin, please take it,” he speaks softer now than before, his voice cracking just a little.  There was a deep sorrow that lingered in the room like the ripple after a passing ship.  I just sit there wallowing in self pity.  Silent.  He slowly turns and leaves.  It is cold again, colder than I even remember.  Days and weeks go by and as faithful as a grandfather clock, the kind man re-enters my cell, bringing a promise of restoration, of salvation from this pit of despair and just as faithfully I deny him of what he obviously so eagerly desires.  Why?  Is it pride?  Do I want him and my visitors to feel sorry for me?  I have seen hope come and go, seen possible escape routes from this dark cell and yet I stay.  I allow thoughts to constantly play in my tortured mind like a nightmarish slide show.  Those who have passed through my cell have suggested ways of moving past this, but im convinced its just too hard.  Its easier just to let the tapes play and cry.  Scream, moan and cry. 

My intimate friend, you know, the one who put me here.  I can hear her outside regularly crying out to me to let her in.  I have asked that she not be allowed.  I don't want her to see me in here.  Like this.  So much pain.  I hear her familiar voice, and I try to find comfort in it as I used to.  But it eludes me.  The voice that could calm the raging seas of my mind.  The voice that assured me in times of sorrow and doubt that everything would be alright.  That voice comes with a dagger now, discretely hidden behind it.  I liken it to grandmas cookies that were so warm and comforting.  One day over indulging only to sicken me.  Never again did I find comfort in them, only the reminder of something once great, now turned repulsive.  I try to breathe, but I get no oxygen.  Try to eat, but get no sustenance.  Try to cry, and… well… that comes as generously as the rains in the forests of Washington.  There it is again, that faithful knock I have secretly come to anticipate if only for the small promise of fleeting companionship.  Someone who seems to truly care.  His presence seems different today.  Head hung slightly, glow has left his face.  I’m intrigued.  “Justin,” he says, “Im sure it doesn't matter to you, but I have requested a transfer, this will be my last visit.”  His words hung in the air like ash over a raging fire.  I can no longer hold it in.  I burst into tears.  “Why!?”  “Please font leave me here!”  I scream.  Calmly, like he had rehearsed his reply he said, “Justin, I cant stand to see you like this, the love of your life has repented, asked for forgiveness and never leaves.  Hoping, praying, that you will see her.  Your precious children need you.  There are so many people just waiting for you to break free from this bondage.”  “Break free?”  I reply with confusion in my voice.  “Yes Justin, don't you see?  You have stayed here under your own volition. You can leave whenever you want.  Sure this may seem like the easy choice, one where you won’t get hurt again.  But son, there is more waiting for you on the other side of that cell door than you can ever imagine.”  With a hint of sarcasm I counter, “Well, not to sound rude sir, but how can you know that, we've barely spoken to each other.”  Tears in his eyes he responds, “Because Son, I’ve seen it.  I’ve walked with you into old age and watched the man you become, and with pride in my eyes after you take your last breath of this earths dismal oxygen, I truly say to you at Heaven’s gate, “Well done, good and faithful servant, welcome home.”  reeling, I cry out, “Father!”  His voice booms, “Yes Son, come with me.”  And as I stand, the old stone walls begin to crumble, and with every falling piece, light breaks through, until all that is left standing is the Cell Door.  The one that I've been staring at for so long, the one that has been taunting me.  The power I felt it once held over me suddenly vanishes.  I step forward, press firmly, and with a crashing roar it falls to the dust.  He turns to me with his tear stained face and says, “Justin, please remember my words.  All have sinned and fall short of My Glory.  Your wife needs you more than ever.  Grace, forgiveness and love.”  He was gone.  Standing in his place with tears streaming down her face was my wife, my friend.  The bitterness I felt, the disdainful anger, gone.  I saw before me a redeemed woman, washed, dressed in a blinding white gown.  “Welcome back sweetheart,” She says, “Welcome home.” 


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