The Door ~ (a short story)

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The Door ~ (a short story)

Post by Chef on Fri Dec 03, 2010 1:18 am

The Door


The never ending sea of black is open before me. I am one with the stars. Even within this cold and dead ship I can still find some solace to detract my attention from the unavoidable. Staring out the window has become a hobby for these past few days. I look at the unending light of the stars and the sun, and cannot believe that I had once before never seen the ethereal beauty that they had. I was once blind, but now I can see. I can see many things. I understand. But yet, I cannot help but think this knowledge will go to waste. I see no rescue parties or glimpses of a savior out in the deep depths of space. I am alone. No one is here to witness what I see. I have no one I can tell the truth to. Such a pain has not wandered my conscience. But the stars know. I can hear them shining. Shining forever.

I tear myself away from the window for a moment to once again face reality. Before me is the dark interiors of silent craft that I am locked inside. It's grey, metallic interior is only lit by a mere overhang lamp in the center of the room I am situated in. There is only enough power for that single light; the ship has otherwise locked down. This ship is no more. It bleeds. The power that once ran through its veins is now diminishing; there is only enough for that single light and I to survive. The stars and that lamp are the only living friends I have. I stand up from the window, the ice cold floor finally getting to me. I pace about, testing the cargo door several times as I have before, trying to end this meaningless existence that I bear. There is no way out. The ship will not heed my commands. It cannot.

As I pace, with each turn I see the cold eyes of my friend staring at me from his chair. I cannot remember the last time we talked, but the piercing look he now gives me disturbs me. His eyes seem to know all; see all. He knows that the stars know and I know, but he cannot speak. For I while I tricked myself by saying that he was only fast asleep in peace. But I know the truth. I cannot face it. Not able to bear it any longer, I walk over to my now repulsive friend and help him close his icy lids so that he can stare no longer. He's gone on long enough. Now he will truly sleep. When his eyes closed, it almost felt to me like another light was put out in this room. A light of hope.

As I walk, I notice the door. Yes! The door! Of course! For the moment, I cannot be sure how I had forgotten about it. For I know, even more than the lamp, what lies beyond that door. The small reaches of that light do not reach that far. A small joy fills my heart for a split second. My salvation lies beyond this gate that I must overcome. It is my only way off this ship. It is the fastest way. I have to pry this door open to earn it. But, there is nothing for me to work with. How can I overcome this obstacle that denies me my needs? The door, standing there as if a guardian, allows me no entry; no pass. In that minute, I hated it more than anything in the universe. It was now my antagonist. The enemy that I must destroy.

This door is not like the others. It is not run by the ship. It can be opened with other means that do not rely on the slowly dying ship's power. But, alas, I cannot figure out how to go about the task of opening it. My hands grip the freezing handle, testing to still solid lock to no avail. It is shut quite tightly. But that will not stop me from finding my savior within that door. For the moment, I leave my antagonist to itself to brood on ways of killing it. Once again, I survey the surroundings, finding the bland environment around me unchanged. Only this room is existent for myself in this ship. The ship will not allow me to enter the others that are guarded by doors even more powerful than the one I wish to break.

Searching for tools, I once again notice my sleeping friend, sitting in his chair calmly. I do not wish to disturb his dead slumber, but franticness pushes me forward. I take his jacket to root through the pockets, though they are as empty as the space that surrounds me. Angered, I throw the jacket aside like a dead animal and proceed to search through whatever the man has clad onto him like a scavenger. My eyes pop as I search every nook and cranny for a sign of some hope. In his pants is a wallet that once belonged to him when he was awake and well. I open the flaps to see a young picture of my friend, smiling at me. Again I see the eyes. His eyes have lived through this picture, though there is no way to force these shut. Afraid, I toss the wallet against the wall, hoping that he cannot see me any longer. As the leather falls, a clank is heard of the floor.

My attention instantly turned towards the noise, my ears perking up. The sounds of metal against metal. It must be what I search to find. Like a beast, I crouch on my knees and crawl forward towards the wallet, careful not to let my friend peek up once again through the picture. Sliding it aside with two hands, the metal fragment appears before me. I cup my hands around the metal key on the floor, feeling the rust and ridges with wild happiness. Such beauty has never appeared before me since the stars outside the window pane. This is it. This is the sword I need to fight the beast that blocks my passage to my escape. Now I know what to do.

I stand back up to full attention, no longer afraid, but confident. I turn to glance back at the stars, hearing them urge me to move on. I am almost shaking because of the anticipation as I near the gateway. My hands once again grip the cold handle, but now it is different. My antagonist is not the master over me anymore. I have the sword of truth, and it cannot deny my entrance no longer. The key, shaking in my hands, is ready. I do not ask the permission of the key or the door, as I care not what they think. Thrusting the key into the tiny slot, I turn it slowly, feeling the door unlock. I tremble briefly, amazed that I have gotten this far, and carefully open the now loose door, turning the handle.

The room before me is dark. The lamp does not reach it, nor does it realize what this room holds. I step forward, careful not to make any false moves to disrupt the peace held within this room. My hands are reached out like a blind man, feeling my way instead of seeing. But it is no mystery to what I may find here. My legs feel a something solid stop them. It is some sort of platform. The platform I know supports what is my key to salvation. I place my hands on the cold table and feel for it. I know it is there. For a few seconds, I feel nothing. But as my hands cross the platform, I feel it. I let out a small gasp of excitement. This is it.

My hands close around what seems to be something metallic and easy to grip. It's handle is easily formed to fit my hand. I lift it up to my face carefully, feeling that it is heavier than it appears. Walking out of the room, I show the light my new friend. My salvation. I walk over to the window, and show the stars. They know. They tell me all is well. They know I have finally fulfilled my wishes. I look down at the cold, metallic object, looking down the barrel. The wheel is full of bullets. The trigger ready. For a brief moment, I stare at it, happier than ever. My finger fills the loop and rests on the trigger, the switch that will activate my salvation.

Soon... I shall be one with the stars.

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