Oneshot Writing

The First Door

(Note: This is just me describing the same door in different ways.)

1 > It's a door.

2 > Right in front of me is a door.

3 > The door is made of dark oak, lacquered but the scratches and dents say otherwise. It seems to have been used. The light shines on the other side of the door, a stark contrast to the black void. I adjusted my eyes to the light and I stepped closer.

I hear someone cooking, I smell a familiar meal.

I opened the door to find a familiar face.

"Welcome home."

4 > The door that stands right in front of me is a door made of dark oaken wood, lacquered as they reflect a nonexistent sunlight. There's scratches and small dents imply a time of usage. It's warm and slightly smooth to the touch and it embarked a sense of tranquillity as it glows brightly.

"Could this be an exit," I wonder. Being stuck in total darkness for so long makes this door a surprise. I adjust my eyes to the light as I brave up to holding the knob glistening in gold.

I press my ear up to the door to hear the sounds of running water and faint bubbling of boiling water. Through the gap of the door I smell a familiar scent, so sweet and savoury.

A meal is being made, implying that someone might be on the other side. I slowly turned to knob and opened the door, and I see something uncanny.

Inside is a small apartment-like room spliced with warm sunlight through the windows and colors muted in browns, reds and greens decorating the furniture. I followed a smell to the kitchen and found someone there, slicing cooked steak and pouring it to the boiling pot.

The person was a slightly chunky figure, almost an average build. Her short hair was curved outward swaying to the side. She turns to me with a smile as all my memories starting to pour in.

"Welcome home."