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Previous Challenge Entry
Topic: Doors (04/05/04)

TITLE: Opening the Door
By Lisa Buchanan


You are looking down along a hall, doors on either side of you. Doors in front and back; even diagonally. Itís like a crossroad. The halls go on forever. It matters where you go and what direction, but you have only a vague idea where that is. All the doors are different. Some are disguised, as something valuable, but a closer examination shows itís ratty and covered with cheap paper. You and only you can decide where you are going and what door is going to take you there.

I open a door to the world. Itís breathtaking and frightening. In the middle is a giant downward spiral, with everything you can imagine in it: and itís spinning around. Every problem, every joy, every tear, and every broken heart. It holds the secret to a lot but seems to be missing the biggest one. It seems to beckon me and I feel strange looking in. It begs me to jump in. It makes me want to be like ever one else, in everything. But do I want to? Do I want to be another nobody who grows up somewhere that is like everybody who dies without influencing the world? A normal nobody who knows nothing and is just in it for him or herself? Even as I think of it, it sounds absurd. But is there another way? Or am I doomed to an existence of an unextrodanary life. A life that has wasted itself when on this earth. Something in myself and in the room I am looking into sayís thereís a different way. Like a glimmer of sun in the darkest of the night it shines and points a different path. Like waking up to a bad dream, quickly I shut the door and continue on my journey.

There is a door in front of me. It seems as if I have been there before and have a vague memory of it: But I canít seem to remember. I twist the doorknob. It does not open. But something seems to call from within it. Suddenly it seems vital that I get in. I push, I pull, I kick, I yell, but nothing gets the door to open. With a defeated attitude I try once more, sure that it is hopeless. It opens relunctantly. Itís like a blurry rerun. Clouded figures flash before me. Things that remind me of my past. Siloam Springs, my parents, m supposedly ďbright ideasĒ. It makes me want to go back and experience everything. Good or bad just one more time. I sense the door shutting before I see it. I realize I am the one pushing it back. I try to open it again, but to no avail. Dejectedly, I walk down the hall wishing, not for the first time, that it would end.
My next door drew me in. It was a wonderful door. Cautiously I approached it. One wrong door, one twist of the doorknob and everything could be destroyed. But as I got closer I could feel my self wanting to be in it, knowing something that great couldnít bad. The door came open at my touch easily. Only when it was open could you fully appreciate it. It had so many different wonderful ideas and possibilities. But unlike others, there was nothing solid in this room. Things just seemed to float around or appear out of nowhere, just out of reach. It may seem horrible, but it was actually very comforting. I have wondered if everyoneís dream door is filled with as many dreams as mine. I think so. We all can do what we need to, and what we want we choose. Forever, I felt like staying there, just having a glimpse of those things. Perhaps I did. For time , though important, seemed as if it stopped. Just waiting for me to catch up. And as this door closed, sadness and despair seemed to stay away. I had seen what could happen, and I was determined. Because if just one of those things happened I felt I could be happy.

Everyone has a corridor of halls. Everyone chooses what door they take. The world may entice them to jump in, but in truth, they were the ones who took the plunge. The had the choice. I guess I am lucky. Some hallways are short. Some naturally mad that way, some formed by choices. So far my corridors still continue. I still have choices to make. I still have only a vague idea where Iím going, but the general picture is there. Perhaps you know where you are going. I do. For at the end of one of those hallways, I know who waits there for me. And know where Iím going.

Member Comments
Member Date
Caroline Alderson04/13/04
This was good. :)
Michael Aubrecht04/13/04
I enjoyed this very much... like a great "picture" you have painted with words.
L.M. Lee04/13/04
nice! :-)