Writing Challenge: January 27, 2017
Prompt: Write about a closed door. What is behind the door? Why is it closed?
I find myself walking down a long hallway toward a door. At a glance, there is nothing special about this corridor. The walls are a soot smudged cream, the entryways are pained in the same dark brown as the doors themselves. All doorways are identical, and none denote anything exceptional beyond… yet I am drawn to the one door at the end of the hall.
I reach my destination but hesitate to turn the bronze knob. Somehow, I feel that everything will change if I give in to my inclination. I pause, my hand heavy on the knob. I close my eyes, then turn and push all in one movement. When I open my eyes again nothing but an empty room, four walls of the same soot and cream, meet my gaze.
