The Doors-2

This is the second installment of a 2 part story. If you’re new to this story you may want to scroll down to “The Doors-1″ and read that first.

On several occasions she looked directly at him. The first time he looked away nervously but after that he looked directly back at her—directly into those dark female eyes that pulled him into a black fire. On those occasions he felt Cheryl knew something—possessed some kind of secret knowledge that he had to understand—that beckoned to him.  He began to believe she somehow knew about his secret doors. When he listened to Jim Morison’s awesome, strange and scary songs, he found himself thinking of her—there was a connection.

 And recently—while he could not see her—he could feel her watching presence as he stood at the top of the dark stairs, waiting to get up the balls to start down the steps. One evening as he gazed with eyes closed into the silent, gaping darkness, he started to speak to her. He was going to ask if she would go with him if he could summon the courage to take that first step down into the shadows. But even before he asked—he knew the answer. 

 “No.  You have to go alone.”

 Georgie’s world became polarized. By day breezy sunshine, blurred movement, the excited shouts and laughter of his fellow demons as they screamed down the hill on Embargo Street and blew through the parking lot behind Kanoff’s Drug Store. By night he became an ancient seeker after arcane knowledge. For hours he drifted passively with Morison’s heretical poetry surging and echoing through his mind and soul as the Lizard King embraced death and stared fearlessly into the abyss. 

 And the darkness within took on a presence of its own. More and more it whispered wordlessly to him with her voice—pleas, taunts, whispers, ambiguous promises and allusions to mystical events occurring beyond time—before the birth of creation.

 One day, while barreling down the steep hill on Embargo, it came to him—his soul was no longer his.  And he knew who controlled it.

 That was the secret she possessed.

 As soon as he grasped this he instantly knew what he had to do. As towering and consuming as it was, his fear had to be faced. His choice was simple. He could move forward into the shadows or stand forever—a hesitating coward at the door.

 He raced away from his friends and riding hard from Embargo, flew straight to the park. Throwing down his bike at the entrance without a thought about damage, he did not stop at the fake palms but walked directly to her ride. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say but he was now in charge of his destiny. He was going to speak to her—take charge of the situation—ask her to do something—get a slurpy on her lunch hour or something.

 When he arrived at the Wild Mouse Ride she wasn’t there that day. It was the first day she’d missed all summer. The moment he got up the courage to speak to her she was absent.  He stood stunned—not simply because she wasn’t there—but because he knew it was a sign.

 It was time.

 That night in his room he turned off the lights, put on the headphones and turned on the music.

 With the opening chords to, “The End,” the doorway was before him and taking a quick breath, he stepped through before he could change his mind. 

 Steeling himself he carefully descended each stair and with each step down knew he could never go back—his life before that moment was ending.

 At the bottom of the stairs he paused—his heart hammering in his chest, chaos roaring in his mind—but—refusing to buckle under the fear—he looked unblinking into the blackness and stepped forward.

 The cool, pleasantly pungent shadows welcomed him—the fear was strong but he was stronger. His eyes adjusted quickly and he could now see the door standing before him silent and ancient—waiting for him for all these centuries. Without hesitation George placed his hand firmly on the latch.

 He knew, she would be waiting for him on the other side.

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