The White Door

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

I couldn’t hold the curiosity I felt any longer, the many questions I had were so overwhelming that the word ‘patience’ became excruciating to hear. I felt I had wasted my life by staring at the white door, hoping and praying for it to crack open and burst out a whole new world.
I have no memory of the life I used to have, or the person I used to be. I don’t even know what my name is or what I look like. I feel as if I’m trapped in another person’s body, where nothing seemed familiar or important to me. It caused great pain and frustration to have nothing make sense. I despised having the perception that the door would eventually open, because I knew deep down that it would never make even the slightest movement.
A sprint of a fear ran up my spine, as a screeching cry hollered throughout the dark room. I clasped my hands upon my tortured ears, anxiously waiting for it to be over. I stumbled backwards, landing upon the concrete floor with a heavy force. I expected an agonising sense of pain, but it seemed that the treacherous cries had taken over any natural instinct I had left.
Finally, the horrendous sound passed, bringing an undying sense of relief to my ears. My rapid heartbeat began to slow its pace, and my lungs resisted the urge to collapse.
A slight chuckle escaped my lips; it struck me how unaware I still was when those monstrous screams entered my ears. I couldn’t comprehend how long it had taken for me to get used to those unforgettable cries of torment, considering it occurred every sickening day.
This horrible, gloomily dark room was the only life I knew. Loneliness seemed to be my only friend, the one thing that has always been there for me. It rarely crossed my mind if anyone was actually wondering about me, or praying for my safety.
It unsettled me at times, wondering whether there were real living beings outside the white door; ones that would be proud to say that although they lived the most hellish lives, they had everything they required to satisfy their needs. In fact I knew nothing about the outside world the white door was securing.
Suddenly, a breeze of exhaustion flew across my staggering eyes and a shadow of darkness began to devour my sight, leaving me in a languorous state of mind —
“Get up, you’ve got school!”
My eyes fluttered open, staring into the eyes of someone too familiar for me to not recognise–my mother.
I sighed gently, as life snapped back into reality.
It was just a dream…
But the white door never seemed to fade into oblivion; it stayed with me as if trying to inform me about something. My father explained to me that dreams have a funny way of telling us how we feel, but not always in the way we expect.

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