The Door Of Change
She spins around, feeling the unrelenting wind attacking her from every direction, glimpsing small crowds of family and friends until she stops. These crowds of loved ones, she realises, are surrounding her at every turn except one. In front of her. She stares. A huge chunky door is intruding in the peaceful meadow just in front of her, its tar-like colour covered in swirling black vines and chaotic silver shapes, the arrows and strings of shimmering cloud at odds with the sinister charcoal portal.
She knows what she has to do. Pick one. She doesn’t know why or how, but she knows that. Pick one, a voice keeps saying in her mind. Pick one. Her life as it is now, with the people she knows and loves, everything staying the same, or the door. A chance to try a new life, to change who she is, to write all she wants on a blank canvas. Pick one.
Whoosh! She feels the wind slamming into her a moment before her eyes widen at the sight of the open black doors. She hears someone screaming and wonders who it is until she realises it’s her, screaming as she’s pushed through those terrifying doors.
But then she stops. She stops the screaming. She stops the struggling. And she considers; what would she have chosen, had the wind not chosen for her?
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