"Open the door. That's it, that's all you have to do." rambles the woman, panic gripping at her chest, at her heart.
"You have the key," she tells herself, "Now all you have to do is opne the door." A pause.
Throwing her arms up in the air, "Why is this so damned difficult?" she explodes, startling a few birds with her outburst.
She stoops, glares at the birds - as if it were their fault. Then her figure deflates as her anger seems to dissipate.
"Alright," she mumbles, "I can do this.". She rises tall once more, pulling her shoulders back and straightening her coat. Her hands shake, whether from the cold, or from nerves, I cant tell. Perhaps a mixture of both. She doesn't seem to notice, instead pulling a small silver key out of her pocket that I'm sure must have absorbed half of the frigid air that surrounds her. Fleetingly, I wonder if she notices the chilly atmosphere. If she does, she must be ignoring it, for she inserts the key into the keyhole and turns it, unlocking the door. Another pause. This time, she takes the moment to pull in a few deep breaths. She opens teh behemoth mahogany door, and I catch a glimpse of an imposing, round marble pillar, a massive staircase with a ruby carpet placed in the centre, and a small, rustic chandelier-esque light above. The rejuvinating sunlight shines upon her features from some window above which i cannot see, and the glimpse of her mysterious and confusing life I had the luck to observe is shut along with the door she closes behind her back.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories, Poems and Concepts
PoetryHi there! Thanks for taking the time to check out my book - or in other words the concepts, beginnings, middles, and maybe even ends of a whole bunch of different ones! This is also a collection of poems written by yours truly. Some of them are sh...
