One Door Shut

A short story I wrote the other day, inspired by a thought that randomly came about while I was staring at my desk.

One Door Shut

    I sat in the grass, the dew on it nearly as damp as my own face. The rain washed it all away sooner or later, and I suppose it didn't matter either way whether the dew made it wet, or if the rain made it wet. My tears may have made it wet, or the skies tears for that matter.

    My fingers moved slowly over the engraved letters on the stone, my sobs choking up inside of me so that I could not breathe. I struggled to keep myself steady, the wind a stinging stream of needles against my skin.

    It was no longer warm here, nor happy, nor comfortable. I no longer had any hope for this life, or whatever may come after it. I could see nothing but the black cloaks of Death moving away from me. Taunting me for my inability to keep what was mine where it belonged, alive and in my arms.

    I wanted nothing but to dig up this grave, see my dear one alive and well there. Some sick mistake played out by the worst of fates, corrected and fixed, once and all. But alas, I knew for sure he was no longer in this realm, and that I could have no such wishes granted.

    I'll always love you. He told me, brown eyes sparkling like chocolate diamonds. And I returned the same, the sweet sound of his laughter pouring into my ears as we sat. The sun shining, warm and happy, I was comfortable in his arms.

    I could only wish, want, long for him to return. But this would do nothing, my willing him back only in vain.

    And then I felt the warmth of his arms, around me. I could hear the loudest beating of his heart in my ears, and I reveled in this feeling for moments, before I realized it had not yet faded away, into the recesses of my imagination.

    I noticed, then, it was not my dear one holding me. But another, yes, one I knew well. And I wondered then, why would he have come to comfort me, when no one else did?

    But I supposed the reasons do not matter, only the result is seen after while. I cried to him, unburdening myself of all the tears, and words, and thoughts, and feelings that surged through my overwhelmed cranium with every passing moment that he was gone.

    And there we sat for hours, not a word spoken by his voice, only comfort given and nothing asked for in return. I spoke freely and my words were heard without judgement or scrutiny, only warm arms of comfort.

~

    Fleeting. The feeling I had was only described by that word, and I couldn't imagine how I'd gotten here today. So many things, changed forever. I would not be able to love again so easy, or let go of the memories, but the pain was fleeting.

    I held the hand offered to me, and stood above that same stoney grave that I sat on all those months ago. The flowers bloomed though the ground was full of gravel, and odds against the pant breaching the heavy obstruction.

    Hope. I felt it return to me bit by bit every day. I walk with Hope now, as my guide. We both shall await the day when I can love again, and live again, and be joyous again. And one day, surely, another door will open that I will walk through. And in that door I will not see Death, but Life and Joy, awaiting me with open arms.

Author's Note

This story was mostly written because I was thinking of something, and I was given the thought about how I felt when my dog had died. I initially blamed myself for it, but came to terms with it thanks to the comfort of God.

Perceptions may vary.

Reviews

[Summer D.]

Read it a long time ago but I never reviewed it. I fail, majorly. This was a really inspirational piece and out of all the works you've written– This has to be one of my absolute favorites. Hands down.

[A. L. Allen]

Wow, this is absolutely stunning. The emotions you conveyed are so vivid and real. I'm amazed at the creativity and symbolism in this piece. Amazing job! :)