I stand, dazed and confused, with the words of Katy Perry trying to convince me to just pick one. Pick one that would “lead me down the perfect road.” The three doors stay plopped there, not giving in to my torn stares. My mind races. The words on the doors mean nothing to me. Each of the three have a peculiar word dazzled across them in bold, black block letters.
I want to turn back around. I want to run from this peculiar place, but the odd and random door that lay behind me is locked and deadbolted. I had gotten so good at running that my feet started to hurt from the obligation to stay.
I felt defeated and I didn’t like it. I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the door before I notice something out of the ordinary. Was I sliding forward? Was the room tilting?
No.
These walls were closing in.
I refuse to pick one of the doors that were lit by the little light left in this small, dark room, and I grab the handle of the pitch black door that was slowly creeping closer and closer to my pounding chest. I pushed down the handle and pulled as hard as I could, ignoring the effect that the deadbolt would have on the rare occasion that I could actually open the locked passageway. I jiggle the handle over and over again until my hand feels numb. I take two steps back and jump into the door, ramming my shoulder into the door. Hard.
The second that my arm makes contact with the splintered, black wood, I hear a bone-chilling snap. I freeze, letting the wall push me down to my knees. I hold my arm in my hand and squeeze my eyes shut like if I don’t open my eyes, nothing is wrong.
I open my eyes and look down to my shoulder, only to see that my arm wasn’t black and blue; It wasn’t snapped in half; It wasn’t even starting to turn red.
I turn around to see what could have made that god awful noise, and that’s when I see it. My eyes immediately land on the shiny metal of the deadbolt chain, laying cowardly at my feet.
Hesitantly, I reach for the handle and to my surprise, it graciously allows me to pull it open, just a crack, and at this point I could easily touch both walls with my elbows, but I would not get crushed if I had anything to say about it.
I yank the door towards me and stride forward.
I expected a portal to a hospital waiting room. Or was I picturing a portal to the middle of Times Square? Maybe a group of people pointing and laughing at me about how easily I fell for their childish prank.
But what I had really found was something I’d never forget.
I look down at my feet and find that I’m standing in a pool of crimson blood, and around me are piles of thousands of snow-white doves that lay dead, one on top of eachother. The sky teased me with a mix of peacefully pitch black and the colors of flame, swirling together throughout the atmosphere.
I think I picked the wrong door.