The Wooden Door

I am inspired.

I looked at that half-open door for some thirty minutes now, as if hoping for an answer to come walking in. My eyes strained from the sudden intrusion of light. I could just go and shut it myself, but my mind was too occupied I think. I sat there at the corner of the supposedly dark empty room, staring towards the white coloured wooden door, and the  narrow streak of light creeping in. 

9 months it had been since light last came through that door. I remembered I locked it. When I last closed that door I swore I hid the key somewhere in the room. I cannot entirely remember. Now that I've come to think of it, perhaps I threw it away. 

Many had knocked along the duration. I have lost count, but I remember so many annoying knocks on that piece of wood. There was one period when I had almost decided to wall up that door so every one would leave me alone. Some of them called out for me, and I answered kindly from within, because in return of my kindness I'd hope they would leave me be in peace. Sometimes I even lost my temper and chased them away. Most of the times I just ignore them.

Despite all that, I kept my distance from the door. Sometimes I think it was because all that. But it doesn't matter now, as I have lived 9 months in the darkness of the little room. I was becoming peaceful. I was feeling comfortable. If I was a foetus, most probably this would be the right time to leave the room. But I am not a foetus, and this is not a womb. I am sure of that. 

Until that door slowly creaked open. 

If I was a foetus this would be the right time to go see the world. 9 months that door stood still and solemn at that other corner of the room, hauling away intruders and strangers. What a strong wooden door. But now I sit staring at the light, feeling a little fragile and afraid, knowing somebody is out there standing at the other side of this small, dark little world of mine. Someone who had managed to somehow break open the door. 

I am afraid. I feel my security draining away from me, but I am curious. I want to know why that door broke open. I want to know who did it. I want to know how. But I am afraid. 

I peered out and someone was standing outside. A person. A man. He stood there smiling, but he just stood there. And I stared at him, not daring to leave my little corner.

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