The Door

• Amelia Witkowski, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

Howling wind rustles my dress, causing it to billow and soar like something desperately attempting to break free. Water droplets of tears and rain sink into the sand where my feet are burrowed. Waves rise and crash into a deathly white foam, capable of sucking anything under.
Yanking a fistful of my dress, I tear it. I grab more and rip it, not caring that my naked body has no protection from nature’s relentless force. Standing up, I leave the tattered remains on the sand. My hair flies out from behind me as I run to the ocean’s edge; my feet dipping into the cool saltwater. Waves slap and punish me for my terrible deed, but I barely notice.
Legs and arms kicking, I dive into the monstrous ocean, weaving under and over, under and over the whitecaps. I let the current squeeze me into a tight ball, and the waves uncurl me. Memories flood my mind, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.
I remember his final day. How his body was only a sliver of a human in his hospital bed. How the too-white walls felt like they were closing in and how I couldn’t breathe and how everything was horrible. The nurse telling me to say goodbye. There was nothing anyone could do. I refused. I refused to say goodbye to my beloved father, because if I did, then it would be true; he was never coming back.
Abruptly, air floods through my lungs and I choke on saltwater, coughing and spitting and spluttering. Trying urgently to stay afloat, I flail my arms through the unforgiving water. Sea creatures cloud my vision before the world seems to stop, and darkness invades my body. Blackness encompasses me and I desperately claw at the last strands of life in my body. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to witness my own death, but, unexpectedly, I feel warmth in the bitter coldness of the ocean.
Springing open my eyes, I am faced with a door, floating just out of my grasp. It is engraved with a warm glow, studded with love, and entwined with the cool, night’s air. Gasping, I let myself gaze into its unimaginable beauty, but I don’t choke on any water. I reach out for it, pleading with this unknown force to let me into the light. To take me out of the darkness. To save me.
Joy ripples through me as I watch a wrinkled, paper-thin arm wind its way towards me. My father. My father came down from The Heaven’s to save me. Gradually, the rest of his body emerges from the door, and he reaches for me, cradling me. The sand hardened by heavy rain greets my back after I am pulled up, and over to the shore-line, by my saviour. He turns to me and strokes my face, as gentle as that of a father’s touch.
“Goodbye,” I murmur, staring lovingly into his eyes, finally accepting that he has left this life.