The Man and the Door

The door, I thought, was merely a myth. A masterpiece that was outstanding among all other entrances, filled with indescribable happiness and joy, clearly a myth. Well, not exactly a myth, in that sense of the word, but a far away figment of the future, so far from me in time that I had considered it superfluous. But the future had crept behind me, and now, was upon me in the form of the present, and the door was very real.

I did not need it, however. I had managed these years without the door, and I thought I could easily continue thusly. Until, as I continued my walk down the seemingly eternal Hallway, I saw a door out of the corner of my eye. I noticed it not at all, until the cogs of my brain began to turn, and I realized, that this was the door. I froze in the presence of the ghost that had become flesh. I could only look at it, not advancing, for fear it was some sort of a mirage, so terrified that this dream I never previously realized I had dreamt, would vanish.

Bravely, I put one foot in front of the other, and made my way closer to the door, which did not disappear. I arrived at the very front of the door, and I could not continue my account of it without mentioning the staggering detail and intricacy of the engraved wood. The Grand Master of Woodcarving had to have fashioned this door, right here, for me, so that I would find it, and enter into the joys untold.

I then noticed the golden light streaming like a river out from every crevice around the door. Then, much to my dismay, I saw the light upon the back of my hand, in the shape of a keyhole. Being spurred on by the quiet whisper of the treasure beyond the threshold, I began wildly and furiously searching for a key. I almost gave up after many hours of finding nothing in the Hallway, but then I heard a sound. A lock had just clicked, and my eyes darted towards the door. A key had been put into the lock and turned a quarter clockwise, so as to leave the door ready to open. I looked up and down and back again; no one. Who had readied the door for my entrance? Was it intentional?

I pushed the mystery to the back of my mind as I realized the impact of it: the door was unlocked. And so, I slowly proceeded to open it. And there it all was: complete joy. What I thought to be fiction was staring at me as fact. And I had only one foot across the threshold.

Time ceased to be of importance as I stood, basking in the light. I cannot even begin to describe what I saw within, although I was half without. After some while, I know not how long, I stepped completely through the door. Then, the glorious light began to flicker, and I sensed that something was very wrong.

Dim. Light. Dim. Light. Dim. Dark. Complete blackness. I stood in a sea of nothingness; I drowned in it rather, in that overwhelming water and my own confusion. I felt a rumble under my feet, and suddenly a flash of light struck me in the chest and had threw me through time, it seemed. For I was a young man when I was struck, but an old man stood back up.

I sat, wondering. The door, so perfect and so impossible, had returned to its state of mystery. I realized every moment I spent and every good thing I had felt within had created a small charge, which all later collected themselves into the great bolt of cursed electricity that had cast me out.

It was a new experience for me, having my hopes raised to the highest height and then plummeted to the lowest low. I kept quiet through it all, however, sharing only a glimpse of my pain with the closest of friends, but no one really knew or understood the utter despair I felt (I thought it was despair in my blinded youth).

One day a while later, I found another door, I instantly was attacked with that feeling, almost like hatred, of seeing the impossible come to fruition. I had always been told there was only one door, but no. No, over time I have discovered the truth: there are many doors.

I, of course, entered and was thrown out again. And again. And again. This cycle continued for what weared on me like an eternity, with each shock being more deadly than the last, but always leaving me with my life. Opening the impossible doors only to have them slammed shut in my face. Until one day, in desperation, I collapsed after I hit my head on a wall while crawling desperately through the Hallway.

I wept within my soul as I felt total defeat. My quest was over. The door, my door did not exist. Then, I felt something. So refreshing was that feeling, so new, yet so familiar. What I thought was a wall that I had run into was another door, and this one seemed so incomparable to all prior to it. There was no lock, and the door was even cracked. I swiftly stepped inside, and the light grew brighter.

I was greeted by the most hospitable of people, in the most fantastic places, making the happiest of memories. This dreamlike state of a completely perfect life had ironically caused more doubts than security. I entered this door quickly and unquestioned… Is this my door? I pondered in my heart. It is so beautiful here, how could this not be my door? This internal debate can and will tear any man to shreds if he allows it to. Once, they left, and I saw upon the chair in which I sat a name that was not mine, and my doubts had been confirmed.

As for me, I succumbed to the truth of my doubts. In my haste to find my door, I had entered someone else’s, but was welcomed all the same. Still, I knew that this place was not fit for me, and so, I found a pen and paper, wrote my letter of goodbys, sealed it, and exited the door.

I left the door cracked upon returning to the Hallway, as the door had been previously upon my discovery of it. After I had made it a few steps away, the door thundered shut with a sound that could be heard for miles upon miles. I sighed, and turned to look at the door for the last time. Many heavy locks had been placed all over it, and they all bore my personal seal (the one with which I closed my letter). There was no longer light streaming from the door frame.

My hands had quietly become aflame with a luminescence I could recognize far too easily. With much dread, I held them up and glared at them in a recognizing and foreseeing awe; almost disbelief. Little sparks of electricity were dancing about my palms, running up and down my fingers, and the brave ones were jumping in between my hands. In my impulsiveness to find my door, I became the one who cast the lightning. I shuddered to think who would stand up after my bolt had cast someone that I knew down through the abyss.

I took a deep breath, and continued down the Hallway. My thoughts began to return to the Woodcarver. Why show me so many doors I was never supposed to enter? Why close so many in my face? Why let someone else hurt because of my mistake? Why?

While silently brooding but still walking, I spotted a sign. It pointed down into the infiniteness of the Hallway, but even from a distance I could tell Who had made that oaken sign. I was then reassured that my door did exist, and someday, I would be shown the way to it. I also knew that if I could survive what I had been through, so could anyone else. Faith in the Woodcarver returned, and I knew that my door lied ahead. Still, the Hallway did seem so terribly long…