At the end of the corridor, the closed door was waiting. Like a tiger waiting to pounce on and devour my dreams, my future and my life. Or what was left of it. On the other side of the corridor was another door, smaller than the one in front of me, but just as macabre. Nothing yet everything blocked my passage to that door opposite me. Behind each door – death.
The door behind me was looking more and more attractive every second until finally I decided to inspect this draconian creation that stood before me. There was nothing special about the door but there was something about it that attracted me towards it something my heart just couldn’t resist, I could almost hear an ominiscent figure laughing raucously in the background so I waited a couple of seconds to regain my sanity. It was a dilapidated door with more character than most humans. It must have been at least two years old made in ’82 although the design itself was one that I knew but couldn’t quite remember. The doorknob was polished which suggested that that door was opened frequently if not daily. I tried to close it but before I could grasp hold of the doorknob I felt an unseen force pulling me away from the door, with great reprimand I made one last valiant struggle to close it but alas it was not to be.
I managed, however, to quickly look through the door, have a sample of the forbidden fruit and I could see now why it was forbidden. I saw my love, my muse, my wife smiling at me with her celestial beauty; her warm personality seemed to heat the room for a split second. Her long radiant hair glowed in the striking sunlight. Suddenly, she was gone, leaving only her nostalgic perfume for me to remember her by. As an introvert, she was the only girl whom I could approach with ease and talk to about my life and problems. I devoted my every breath to praising her – the blessed maiden the angels named Sophia. That all changed two years ago.
I found myself staring into an abyss as dark as my feelings for this world that had taken my beloved away from me. I tried reaching out to her but some unseen puppeteer was keeping me away from my love, my muse, my past. She had a beautiful voice, the nightingales would flock in their thousands to hear her gentle canting and be in her pulchritudinous presence. Her lips were red and warm like her heart. Until two years ago.
I turned away from the door and focused on the closed one, as it was only logical that that was where my love had retreated to. I approached the ominous door not knowing what terrors such a door could lead to. It was a leap into the unknown but also a calculated risk. My mind was being overloaded by a combination of adrenalin and possibilities. Some say your future is what you make of it. Time to find out. The door was polished and encased in a plastic cover as if it was waiting for its master to open it and enjoy the secrets it kept hidden from the brutal world that encompassed it. It had been carefully carved for one person and one person only – me. I touched the plastic cover and suddenly my heart grew cold yet my brain began to think at a rate much greater than I had ever experience before. I tugged at the cover but was met with resistance, as if some abhorrent tormentor wanted me to stay trapped in this corridor. I tore off the plastic coating, the skin of the forbidden fruit. I could not turn back now it was all to play for, I needed to know whether I could find Sophia. I knew I could. I opened the door. Nothing. The same abyss met me at the other side of the door. Then it hit me, my life was nothing without my true love, a vast, empty abyss. And so I sit here in the middle of this corridor, in solace thinking if I could have saved her, if I could have changed what happened, two years ago.
The problems start when we refuse to let change happen and cling onto old memories. Because if we hold onto the past too tight, the future may never come.