Her Creative Writing: Wooden Doors and Shattered Glass
I stare at my bedroom ceiling. Waiting. My eyes close, as I fall into my subconscious. Three doors appear in front of me, haunting me to choose. I run to the green door, and feel my heart sink as the knob locks on me. I want to scream, and bang against the wood until you let me in. But I don’t. I know you don’t need my air the way I need yours. I can feel my oxygen running out of my lungs. I collapse against the green door, gasping for air. Your scent of pine needles and warm sheets creeps toward me. For a few moments, I forget that I can’t breathe. I linger- wanting to be where you are.
A familiar blue light beckons me toward the second door. I leave the pine needles and warm sheets as I step closer. Air fills my lungs again as I open the door and step out onto a rocky trail. The sun is setting, and I know it will get dark and cold soon. But I wait. I wait and hope the sun won’t set, that it will stay warm and inviting. But the only thing you can be sure of with the sun, is that it will always set. I know the darkness is too much- but every time I try to run the sun comes up again, asking me to stay. I know I have to leave before the darkness consumes me. I won’t be trapped in the night again. This door has enough air for me, but I can’t rely on it to be my light anymore.
The third door doesn’t have any color or smell. It’s just white. I step toward it and touch the wood. A purple print lingers after I move my hand. I smile, and keep drawing- watching more colors appear. Half the door is painted rainbow. A cold breeze blows my long hair over my shoulder. I look back at the other doors and see them getting further away. I step away from the colorful door, not wanting to lose the others. The colors start to bleed off the wood as I step away. Leaving the door lifeless.
Tears roll down my face as I see the beauty dying. I turn away from all three doors and run. A shattering sound echoes down the dark hallway. I turn and see shattered glass in front of my bedroom door. Sharp pain attacks my stomach. I wrap an arm around the pain-trying to keep myself together. I bend down, and start picking up the glass. I stick each shard back onto my door. The pain in my stomach slowly leaves as I pick up each piece of glass from the floor. I stare at the broken mirror, and wipe the tears from my face. I grab the knob and open the door. I walk into my room carefully, worried at any moment I won’t be able to breath, or that the darkness will creep in. I inhale deeply, and feel strength replace my fear. There is beauty here. There is light here. I can breathe.