Stuck

A story that tries to put a serious issue in a fictional setting to make more sense of it

“Why in the hell is this not opening” banging on the door he tried to get it to pry open, but it stood there as if it hasn’t been touched. “ Okay, I need to calm down, maybe try the handle one more time” pressing the palm of his hand with copious amounts of pressure he moved the handle down but to no effect. The mechanism of the door reacted with ignorance. “ Come on, come on” he pressed some more until he felt that the handle will leave the door together with his hand “ Damned door” his face was flushed red and his forehead pierced by deep canals of wrinkles that made his face looked like an aerial shot of the Grand Canyon. Drops of sweat were on his fingers that were now white from all the grabbing, he could see blood travel through the veins that thickened. Air traveled in chaotic tempos’, breathing in fast and breathing out fast and other times with coffee pauses in his trachea. The heart beat rushed like it was trying to win a heart beating a marathon against award-winning hearts of body builders. The inside of his mouth felt like a tanker for thick saliva that upon spitting lingered and elongated itself like spiderweb or chocolate at it’s melting temperatures. “ Whew, when did I get so worked up, I should calm down” but he did not, anxiety rose from his stomach, climbing his gut and then claiming the top of his brain with its flag. “ Why won’t it open, why, why” the question just kept coming to his mind and he repeated them like a chant hoping to change his situation but it didn’t and so it all worsened further. The walls were now taller in his blackening vision which seemed to constrict some spaces and give other spaces grandiose scales. Now he felt like he was jammed between two monoliths taller than the pyramids of Giza, and they got closer. He didn’t expect himself to be claustrophobic, but the door sure showed him what fear of small spaces can do to a man. “ Open up , please, someone, open up, I need out “ the most authentic natural fear was in his conduct now, his eyes running from one point to another looking for a shelter from the bad things, his nails wanting to claw his skin out so he can escape his skin, air not reaching his lungs, tears rolling down, a scream of terror and then… it all went black, faded like a movie rolling the credits. When he woke up, he felt less stuck, but he knew and he feared that the sensation will come back, the door will reappear and the walls will be again taller than his ego. He wanted to ask for help, but out of shyness and shame he decided not to, after all this were his demons he thought , but help was there, he had to reach it, but he was not only stuck in his panic, he was stuck inside, the door was there, but he was unwilling to open it yet. But there is hope, one day he will approach the door, one day he will open it and one day he will overcome his panic and find peace of mind and until that day comes he will heroically stand against the terrors of the door

Reviews

[Cœur]

Indenting dialogue is always good to do to make it easier to read. You used description very well. It honestly could have been longer, more of a background, but overall this wasn't horrible. Good job.

[David]

Thank you for the review , i will try to follow your advice in my following works or in refining this one