Behind the Old Barn Doors

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My heart ascends, beating faster and faster. Beating so fast my eyes blur, my breath shallows, black spots etch into my vision. My legs ache and want to stop, but the adrenaline, pulsing rabidly through my veins, shoves me on. The ice-cold rain wisps into my face, stabbing me a million times. The wind blows, it unsteadies my frozen body, as I run from approaching death. The darkness closes in, till I am no longer in a sleet storm; I am in total blackness. There’s no light, it’s all darkness. I can see myself standing there yet I am in a never-ending black room, the floor is black, the ceiling, the walls. Everything is a cold pitch black immersing itself. I stop and clutch my uncontrollably shaking body. The intense chill is unbearable. My lips turn a sickly blue color, as all the blood drains from them. My body is in a panic, my mind is clouded and nothing is making sense. Running has gotten me nowhere, so I stop and stand there.

A soft clinking of chains startles me; I turn to find an English man, riding an old bicycle. I scream at him, but nothing is heard, other then the escaping of my breath upon my frozen lips. He only turns and looks at me. He puts his foot down and pulls out a pocket watch, pointing to it. I attempt to scream at him again, but he just shakes his head, speeding up. I chase after the sound, in a desperate chase to escape this nightmare. I push into a black wall after he disappears through it. Gravity gives away and I fall with a black drape surrounding me. I am anticipating the hard landing but it never comes, I just fall. Faster and faster I fall, into black abyss.

My head throbs and little dancing colors shield my vision. I lie there unsure of where I am lying and what will happen. I still hear the soft clinking chains of the English man on his bicycle, but there is no sign of him. Instead there is a light at the end of this long black room, I get up warily and walk towards the light. As I walk to the end of the hall, the walls seem to ripple away, like they are being sucked into nothingness, they just cripple and fade away. Soon I am standing in an old field; the scene is set in a sepia tone. There is nothing but an old reddish brown barn at the end before the grain starts to sway. I see the English mans bicycle propped up against the barn’s closed doors. I walk slowly but surely to the doors. I feel the rough wood slivers chipping away as I slide my hand across the handle.

Little splinters of old rusty paint fly in the light wind. I shove the doors, and they creak open revealing the cliff of a mountain, I am standing on the edge looking down past my feet. At the bottom of the cliff is a beach, on the edge of a sea; the sand is a light opal white, shining in the sunlight. The water is a maroon wine colored shade. The rusty waves slosh and clash along the rocks and the powdery sand. A trail leads around the cliff side, made out of little limestone rock slabs. Little sprinklings of grass and moss cover the cliff. I followed the crumbled trail and step onto the fine sand. Little crystal specks of sand and rock seep between my toes as I breathe in a sweet, tangy aroma, wafting from the sea.

I dip my feet in the bath warm water and watch as the waves carried a glistening sparkle. I take in all the surroundings, realizing this is my dream place. Looking down again, the waves retreated and an old rusty chain, with two skeleton keys threaded on, was caught between my toes. I wrap my fingers around the fascinating find and as I held the keys, I felt lifted. Behind the black walls, the closed barn doors and the wine colored water, I had taken a journey with in myself. I was holding the key to my heart, my mind and my soul.





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