THE DOOR

The following is a story I wrote 5 years ago (that many!? OY!) and is one of my personal favorites. I've tried to space it in such a way as to capture the rhythm of the story, but the truth is, everyone will hear it differently as they read it. My suggestion is to take the time to put yourself IN the story...drink it in and put yourself in the shoes of both girls (you can change them to boys) in the story.

I'd love to hear your thoughts...I have many of my own about this one! Here you go...

THE DOOR by Trayc Foskett, 2009


Everyday she walked past it.

Some days she stopped and looked at it, others she barely noticed it at all.

But everyday she walked past it.

She knew it was there.

She couldn't deny its' presence.

She tried.

But it was obviously there.

One day when she stopped to study it a friend stood beside her and asked why she didn't just open it.  It was a door, after all, and doors were meant to be opened...right?

She looked at her friend with a look of resignation then simply answered, "it's locked."

"Locked?" Her friend asked, "Didn't you get the key when you bought the house?"

"Yes. It's hanging right there on that hook."

"Then why don't you open it?"

"Because...I don't trust it." 

"what is there not to trust?" her friend asked in dismay, "it's a DOOR!"

"Well, what's behind it?" she asked. It was actually more of a statement since she didn't really think the subject was up for discussion.

Dumbfounded her friend blurted, "You don't even KNOW?"

"Of course not. It's locked."

She stopped then and looked again at the door. She had done so many times over the years. The truth is, the door had been hidden by a bookcase at first. The locked door was too confusing, and it really disrupted her plans for the house, so she simply denied it's presence and placed the bookcase in front of it.

Not that it helped. She still knew it was there, and each time she walked by she got that uneasy feeling of curiosity and fear int he pit of her stomach. So one day she moved the bookcase again. Now the door was available...but it was still locked.

"What are you afraid of?" The quiet probing voice of her friend pulled her from her reverie.

"Oh. Uh, what? Afraid of...? Pshaw...I'm not *afraid* of anything."

"Then why won't you open it?"

As the question hung in the air like steam on a foggy night all the reasons she had told herself over the years came coursing through her mind.

*What if it's the door to a horrible event that occurred in this house ~ her dream home ~ and she'd have to give it up?

*What if it's a room that holds the promise of an overwhelming project of removing junk, cleaning out and restoring it's original beauty...or worse yet, a complete remodel?

*What if at first glance it seems to be perfect and wonderful, but as it is used more the flaws and disappointments become clear?

*What if, instead of a grand room, it ends up being a small and useless little closet?

*What if it's nothing?

It was that last question that really held her back. What if, after all these years of speculation, dreaming, planning and wondering it ended up being...nothing?

She didn't think she could handle it if that were the case. So she simply left it alone and lived in hopes that someday...someday she'd know.

Her friend studied her face as she reflected on what was holding her back. What she saw there broke her heart a bit. She knew where that door led. She had spent much time in the room beyond the door when her grandparents owned the house. She knew how beautiful and peaceful it was. She also knew that it was locked not to keep everyone out, but because the room was so special, so precious, that it was her grandparent's idea to give everyone who wanted to go in the choice as to whether to take the chance.

The key hung right beside the door. All anyone needed to do was grasp the key, place it in the lock, turn it, and accept the gift of beauty the room beyond offered.

The obstacle was getting beyond the unknown.

Her friend knew all this, and so she stood quietly beside her as she debated within herself.

Quiet encouragement flowed from her friend's mouth with each utterance of, "what if...."

To each question there was a simple response of truth.

To each doubt, there was given courage.

To each rejection there was given another opportunity.

Finally she took a timid step toward the door. She continued, haltingly, until she stood before the hook holding the key.

She sucked in a slow, deep breath and blew it out. Not once, but twice.

She lifted her hand and stopped in mid-air. Quickly, with fear wall-papered all over her face, she turned to her friend and said, "what do I need to do?"

"Trust." her friend quietly replied. "Trust the truth. You have nothing to lose except the fear of the unknown by opening the door. Trust the truth."

She turned back to the key one more time, took a final look at the door,

 and walked away.