Fore Door

A recurring dream has been of constant reference in my mind. I can’t recall a single breath I've breathed without it, nor can I remember it in itself. What truly mattered was the feeling presented.

What are dreams but pillars of the mind? What are dreams but the foundation of the soul? What holds together the human body. What holds together the being and function of internal organs? What keeps us from plummeting into a cavity of corruption that envelops the chasms of the abyss which force itself onto oneself through the immoral wants of humanity?

I’m still working on the abstraction of this theory; brilliancy takes time to harvest the fruits of its fruition.

I closed my eyes once again; I had only awoken to decipher the brilliancy's my mind was capable of creating even through states of rest. A mind like mine requires periods of repose before composing a reprise....

Only for a moment was I allowed the comfort of leisure, the scent of my sheets, the compassionate softness drawn from each particle contained in the memory foam which defined the inner being of my pillows, the heat my blanket contained, and the pleasure found through the comfort that surrounded. An excruciatingly apparent noise stole my focus....

The noise could only be traced to a single object... only a door (one made of wood) could ever create such a sound.

“Knock - Knock!” No... something more like “Thud - Thud!”

“THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, KNOCK, THUD, KNOCK, KNOCK, THUD, THUD!”

I couldn’t stand the noise much longer! I didn't think the hearing loss my grandma faced was with such an ability to drown out noise of such a loud variety... I had endured the pain of consuming sound through my ears with the thought that my grandmother would subdue the obnoxious knocker...

“THUD - thud, knock – KNOCK... AUGH!” Annoyance had created (and urged) my need to scream.

Begrudgingly, I hoisted myself from my bed and rested my feet on the foundation of my room. I leaned over, and through blurry vision reached for the glasses resting on my bedside table. Exiting my room, I began to make my way towards the stairs. The knocking continued.

I had no idea who it could be, who would have such courage to persist this heavily so early in the morning? Didn’t they know their actions played as a great inconvenience to others?

After descending the stairs, I immediately found myself facing the front door, the absolute ear-shattering clamor was at its greatest.

I reached for the knob...

I twisted the knob...

I pulled the door open...

The door was open.

I looked out and down onto a boy. He was of short stature and his body was very thin. His hair lemonade (ish) in color spanned down until reaching JUST above ground level, even with his hair being pulled into a (very messy) bun. He had eyebrows of an especially dark shade; (they were furrowed down.) Even his eyes remained a very dark shade of brown. He had a stunningly irritated look on his face.

“… Who are you...?” I questioned.