The hallway has no glow. No light to guide my way. The only thing that keeps my feet moving is the noise. Cracking, creaking, clawing. I force myself further down the hallway, the floorboards pressing into my feet. Then I see it. The Red Door. The door itself is bursting from its hinges. Splintering between my pressed palms. Before I can grasp the metal knocker, it falls to liquid, slipping between my fingers and onto the floor. The cracks on the surface of the wood are impostors. The red paint chips away and falls seamlessly to my feet. The floor gives out and I lurch forward, smashing into the already breaking door. Wood pieces and liquid metal reign down upon me as I fall into an unknown room. Recovering from shock and the fiery pain within my heart, I get to my feet. I turn back towards the doorway, expecting to see into the darkened hallway from which I entered. But the door is suddenly intact. As if I had always been inside this room, never reaching towards anything outside of it. Never disturbing the peace within. I peer around the room and everything is in tatters. The floors are covered in soot. The wood chairs and tables are exploding. Filling the room with shards threatening to pierce every part of my body. The curtains billow in the breeze from the open window. The fabric tearing itself to shreds in long, loud, excruciating pieces. The walls are breathing. Slowly. In and out. Inhaling, exhaling. On each intake of breath, the furniture coincides, forging into themselves and splintering out as the walls exhale.
Just before the scratches begin to carve themselves into the breathtaking walls, I squeeze my eyes shut. Willing the room to no longer live in my mind. I squeeze them tighter. Then suddenly…open them.
I’m no longer inside the room, but in a darkened hallway. I can see it. The Red Door. And it’s bursting from its hinges.
Inspired by the Daily Post