Red Door

The door is plain, red, and cold. There is a brass knob and in the center of the door. At eye level, were the numbers 1-2-6, the same color and texture of the doorknob. The paint is old, and chipped, the wood dented and worn. There isn’t a peephole, or even a mail slot. All in all, it is a very typical door, to a less than typical apartment.

I had been standing here for what seemed like an eternity. What had been silence once was now an uneasy stillness, punctuated by the sizzling of fluorescent lights, and booming of the second hand of a clock. Now and then, a fly would be heard, buzzing around somewhere, unseen by any eyes.

I can’t stall forever. Or, at least I don’t think I can. Time has lost all meaning in the last few minutes, or hours, or days, or months, or years, or decades, or centuries, or however long it’s been. My only memory is of standing here, and staring at that door. I have every detail memorized, and catalogued to the point that if I blink the image will still be there, burned into my retinas.

I can’t open the door. I can never open the door. Because the second I do, it will all come back. Every feeling, every sight, every sound, every last scar. Everything. I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough to open it, not strong enough to forgive, or be forgiven. Not strong enough to move.

Not strong enough to breath.

Footsteps come from down the hall. I can’t turn away from the door. I want to, but I can’t. A woman walks over from my fight, pulls a key from her purse, and walks into the room. The door goes straight through me, and closes in my face after she’s through.

I sigh. Nothing comes back. There’s just a hole. Through my soul, of course, but also through my chest from when I’d been shot. I knew she couldn’t see me, but it still hurt that she never bothered to look.

In a moment, it’s all gone again. I can’t remember anything anymore. I can’t feel, can’t think, can only see and hear. There is only a door. The door is plain, red, and cold. There is a brass knob and in the center of the door. At eye level, were the numbers 1-2-6…

for some reason i don't really get it 0.o

It's a ghost staring at a door, probably where he died.

.........................................I think.

i thought that too but still......

Yeah, this ended up being twice as trippy as I originally intended.

I could always revise it, but...