literature

Door.

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Literature Text

That door... was once a rustic beauty – shimmering in pure, classical splendour. Standing quietly in the center of its room, it naturally evoked the curiosity of millions. It had never been opened, and therefore it had to be opened -- there was nothing else for it. We had to know the secret to its beauty, to its allure. Most importantly, we had to know why we wanted to open the door.

The door was beautiful once. Yet now, it was covered in a strange whiteness – a whiteness that slowly leaked out, eventually coating the room with its sickly, pale hue. The whiteness then went beyond the chamber, and seeped into the rest of the world.

We should not have allowed it to happen. It was not our place to open the door. But we were stupid, and we did. We are always stupid.

----

The entire room was white, a sickly white, when before it had been a shade of green. It was never a beautiful room, by any means, but anything could be declared better than what it had become. A door on the west end of the chamber creaked slowly open, while three lost souls sat on three neatly arranged white chairs -- waiting. A man came in, wearing a white shirt, under a white overcoat. A red rose sat quietly in his coat pocket... it was dead, and already had begun to wither. It was colour, it was hope, but it was swiftly becoming white.

The man sent the hapless three into an adjoining chamber, which unsurprisingly, was also white. Here they waited, waiting for some kind of alleviation to their collective fears. Their only company was a white bowl, filled with what seemed to be white fruit. Clean, white, poisonous and abhorrent.

This entire world had been tainted. There was not much time left for it, or anyone within it. The cure to their fears would never come – they would never be saved. But such is the way of the world, and the people within it.

After a number of days, the man in white clothing returned to the room. He looked older, more frail, as if he had witnessed 1,000 years pass in a matter of minutes. The truth of the matter is that he had – this man had seen 1,000 years in a matter of minutes, and having seen the future, knew what to say.

"I am sorry, friends. All is lost."

He then walked silently out of the room, into the adjoining chamber, leaving three lost souls without an answer, without a place to run.

A bitter, piercing wail threatened to shatter the very framework of the building around them... and then it was over.

----

A lonely figure stood on top of a tall, white mountain, gazing directly into the future, the past, and deeper into the present. He could see the world before him; a sickly white, not pure, but of a strange, deadly malice... what was it?

It threatened to destroy him. But he had to last, just a few more moments. He had to complete what he had set his mind on doing.

He had to stay alive -- He still remembered a single colour: blue. He kept that memory – it held within it a hope, but he was swiftly losing it. The taint was now in his mind, and he knew he did not have long.

Even so, he needed to send a warning. He needed to leave his mark... and so he left it, in a place where any man would be able to find it, provided he was willing to look.

And then it was over.

----

A man, well dressed and silent, stood on a vast, white plain, his dark blue eyes surveying the world about him. He watched a man fall from a mountain, thousands of feet, perhaps to his death... no... he was already dead.

He chuckled, softly... even ironically, to himself. He knew, as all people knew, that it shouldn't have happened -- It shouldn't have happened like this.  The man knew it was over, and solemnly singing the words of a song he knew, turned around and walked into a strange darkness.

--The Author.
I... honestly don't know why I wrote this. I guess it's just one of those things.
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