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The room on the left

By , Bryn Mawr, PA
As the slow moving, orange filled light penetrated the smallest of cracks in the shades, that have hid the secrets of my life for so long, an emotion hit me , more confusing than the reason for such beautiful flowers to grow on the top of thorn filled danger, this along with the memories of how this place became “ home “stopped myself from abandoning home so quickly. Starting out as a plain room, with slight cracks, small enough to not see, but big enough to give a character of uncertainty to the stability of the room which lay under a creaking and weather stained roof. The odd, foreign creatures walking so slumpish with hundreds of pounds on their backs, placing cabinets into the room, As myself a 2 year old boy, watched, with great wonder. As time quickly progressed, I became a changing boy. The days of tears of regret, and sorrow, unlike humans, the room lay so quite ready to listen to all I had to say. Without saying a single word, could give a calm quiet hush to stop even the most severe crazed minds. Where the carpet meets the wooden floor was a barrier. The second a foot was placed on the cold, pattern filled floor, all sadness is sucked away. As my mind developed, so did my room, who now, was more of a person then anyone, a connection to a small area just down the long, straight , devil red painted hall. A gathering of items from the vast never ending world, filled up and covered the cracks of uncertainty. That emotion of confusion turned to excitement. As the orange light ,peaking through those same curtains as 15 years ago ,filled the room, for the last time before my own eyes, the light passed from my eyes, to my heart. One step out of the room, then two, then as that little child 14 years ago stood at the step where the carpet meets the wood, there I was , at 16 years. I reached out to the same knob that I opened the door for the first time, and pulled. The hinges closed, the orange light, free to travel, building up the excitement for the next creature to open the creaking door and be hit by its energy. I walked down the hallway , each step away from the room where the carpet met the wood, on the left , slowly becoming further away. My head turned, as if a force turned it, I took once last look down the hall, left the house, and drove away, from the room on the left.



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Steph Y. said...
Feb. 7, 2013 at 6:28 pm
Very good story! I don't know if sometimes people tell you too much detail but there was so much detail sometimes it was hard to follow but still you did a VERY nice job!!
 
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