The Corridor

He wakes up on the ground of a room. It's cold and the darkness envelops the chamber. Where am I? What am I doing here?

He see's a dark brown door and a light that slightly sways in the middle of a room like a pendulum. A moth hypnotically follows the light's golden glow in erratic movements. In the corner he sees a murky coat. It looks like its hanging on a coat rack. The only illumination that enlightens the darkness is the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Every few moments the light flickers like a crackling camp fire. The atmosphere is uneasy and tempestuous and it hastens his angst. Remember! How did I get here? He rises to his feet like a reanimated corpse. Why can't I remember!

He dusts off his clothes. Oww! My head hurts! It feels as if he was hit by something on his head. There are no windows in the room and he notices there are only 2 doors, one in front of him... The second behind. The door in front of him is a dark shade of brown, like that of a grave. Beneath the door lie three wooden steps. He extends his hand slightly towards the door and hesitantly moves his body forward. His hands are shaking and he feels his calmness drift away in his panic. Why am I here? The question resonates and echoes through his mind.

He uneasily looks behind him at the door behind his back and pulls back his hand from the obscure door in front of him. The door is a pure color of white but the paint is old and starting to peel exposing the wooden texture of the door. The door stands out from contrast with the opaque room, almost as if it is glowing in the obscurity of the room. Which door should I open? So many questions unanswered! He gradually turns and approaches towards the bleached door, he stops... He is still unsure which door to choose. Which door should I open first? What lies behind the access of this gateway? What should I expect? A damp, dusty smell fills his nose and a cockroach promptly crawls over the door and merges with the gloomy shadows hiding the brick confine of the room.

He stands like a statue, frozen, in front of the door at the beginning of the stairs. His hands are sweating and restless, his gaze is frigidly locked on the rusted copper doorknob. Is this possibly the exit? He calmly suggests to himself. He sluggishly walks up the few steps and reaches for the doorknob, he turns it as the rust merges into his hand and colors it a reddish brown, like the color of dry blood. He tugs at the doorknob hoping the door would swing open... Locked! He should've known it wouldn't be that easy to escape a place like this, what is a place like this? What is this place? He slams his body against the door hoping to break open an exit for him but his body echoes of pains but he can't remember getting hurt... How did I get these injuries that lied dormant till now? Still the door wasn't open and it felt as if it was cemented into the wall and was never meant to be opened.

The little spark of hope he had just acquired suddenly drowns in a sea of despair. Like glass all his life breaks against the floor with the realization he just encountered. His head droops in agony, but wait there is a second door... He slowly turns towards his last hope, the dark, ominous door at the opposite side of him. Maybe that door will be open? He slowly turns his aching body towards the door that merges so effortlessly to the darkness that engulfs the shadowy room. He slowly steps forward towards the ominous dusk of the room away from the radiant white door towards the empty abyss of shadow. He feels the door pulling him closer asking him to be nearer to it, whispering hope and redemption but he senses a thread of malicious intent. He feels its force pulling him like a fisherman pulling on a fish at sea. He walks closer giving in to the door's greedy force that commands him closer.

He slowly closes the gap between the two doors, dragging his feet in the darkness. He stands still at the bottom of the three wooden stairs recollecting his emotions and thoughts. He treads onto the first step of the old splintered stairs and it creeks under the weight of his body sending an echo through the darkness of the room bouncing from the unseen walls. He slightly hesitates and firmly plants his left foot on the second step, shattering it under his weight but still holding together supporting the left side of his body. He hesitatingly re positions his foot and places his left and then his right foot onto the third step with fluid and quick movement. He extends his hand towards the copper handle once again and once again rust covers his hand into a deep reddish-brown shade like that of blood.