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The Noisy Room

A short story

By Noah DouglasPublished 2 years ago 2 min read
The Noisy Room
Photo by José Martín Ramírez Carrasco on Unsplash

I wake up and see two doors available to me;

the first is a room filled with people and the second one seems empty- I navigate into the one with people in it.

Movement is quick and hurried, frantic and chaotic, harsh and rushed.

Sounds piercing of 1000 voices.

The people in the room are walking around in circles with

heads down. The occasional pause to lift their heads when they bump into each other- but then they keep moving.

I stop this girl ahead of me and get a quick glance at her eyes before she hurries away into the crowd- deep sadness

is there but more than that- purposeless; her soul is like a kite in the wind.

Slowly I become more attuned to the voices, they are all chanting the same thing over and over-

PERDITUS SUM, PERDITUS SUM, PERDITUS SUM- I think ‘What are you saying?!’

This room can’t be my only option- I remember when I opened my eyes there was another door so

I rush to the exit.

Chains free from me when I exit the prison cell.

Relief temporarily grabs a hold of me shortly replaced by the awe of my situation, I think

‘why would anyone want to stay there’

I make my way to the next room expecting the worst, yet

I am greeted with a sense of peace, there is

no noise, no hurry, no sadness.

But I notice something- there are no people here.

I run around in desperation, ‘I can’t have got it wrong again?’

‘Could I?’

I feel emotions of pain build up, the silence frightens me, and I begin to question it all.

Time passes and I helplessly lose myself in the room. After a while

I make my way to the door again thinking myself such a fool, but just before I reach it,

somebody taps me on my shoulder.

I turn to see a man. I look into his eyes and recognise something new;

a warmth, a kindness, a purpose.

“Who are you?”, “Who were they?”, “What is this place?”, I say.

With a calm almost authoritative voice he spoke to me, “Who I am doesn’t matter right now, it is who you are that matters. Those people in the other room are lost, they evade suffering but in return never experience true joy. They simply follow each other in circles. This room exposes truth".

Then he was gone.

I feel shook.

I have a million and one questions- yet I feel like I know what I must do.

People need to know there is another room. So I venture out intentionally and

without hurry or fear.

I stand outside the noisy room, preparing to go in, I am not lost.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Noah Douglas

Perpetually curious.

Journeyman of faith†

Runner, writer, marketer.

Some of my other work ↓


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