the knock at the door

August 14, 2018


"there was a slow, steady tap, tap, tap at the door. a familiar noise, tap, tap, tap, and again. the hallway was murky, lights dim and fatigue. they lit the way, but you had to squint to see properly. the wallpaper was peeling softly in the corners, patterned with boring victorian florals, possibly a mix of poppies and maybe lavender. the combination was quite.. bewildering in some aspects. i suppose the lavender was for the assistance of sleep, and the poppies for remembrance."

"i stopped at the end of the hallway, gulped, and took a step forward. i realised that the walls were lined with lopsided portraits, of people that had come and gone throughout the years. crooked smiles and buttery plump hands, sweaty, and made you feel a little uneasy after shaking."

"the tap at the door was consistent, and became heavier now, the volume increasing as I made my way toward it. the lights began to flicker, and my own palms began to get sweaty. the rusted brass handle turned with an impatient yet, slow and steady speed. i stopped in my tracks and turned to face my left side, looking up to see an old figure smiling wholeheartedly at me."

"the tapping had stopped, and in the doorway stood an old friend. fear.
he smiled at me, and then the lights had gone out"

photography and creative writing by yours truly.
special thanks to the random guy walking his dog.

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