Before my eyes, a door is arranged from shadows—crafted of rich yew wood, inviting yet pressuring simultaneously—and I am hesitant to make contact with the brass knob and fall through to new shadows. I never do know if I can stomach mysteries that approach with such ease. Although I have to know what's there and when I look behind me, no candle beckons. I may hope the door will lock behind me. I know I have no key to return but perhaps one will glisten in the fog for me and I'll be allowed to open more yew wood doors on the other side.
About the Creator
Andi Leigh
Poet • Novelist • Short Story Writer • Photographer • Cartoonist
Hello! I'm Andi. I enjoy writing poetry, horror stories, and general fiction.
Keep reading
More stories from Andi Leigh and writers in Poets and other communities.
Full Contentment
I saw a turtle with its shell against the sun—soaking in the pleasantries that drifted along the mellow winds. The turtle's little head was held high, eyes closed—not in smugness—but in full contentment. I wished to be that unbothered as I walked by hastily, even though I had no destination impatient for my arrival. The turtle on the rock by the rippling water gave me hope, something to look forward to—that I too could be that content if I allowed myself to be, with my head held high, and no worries to speak of. So I continued my walk at a slower pace and the turtle continued to sunbathe in bliss.
By Andi Leigh21 days ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.