(The Last Door on the Left) A tie in to Fiction and Poetry: the Story-tellers

This is a piece I wrote last year, I recently engaged in commentary regarding this one and it’s meaning.  Now, remember our very first post, the one about not asking the poets?  A piece like this can take a person any number of places.  One reader saw a fear of death, one saw fear in a marital situation, for example.  Who was right?  They both were.

Pieces like this are designed to give the reader an emotional springboard on which to find their own story.  Imagery is given, yet vague enough to allow the reader to fill in the gaps.  Here, we aren’t showing a reader the exact moment of inspiration, but the way that moment felt.  It is for the reader to determine where they go.

So where would a piece like this take you?  Could you write a short fiction based on what you have?  One need not always give every detail to tell a story (unless one happens to be named Tolkien).  On that note, I hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading.

“The Last Door on the Left”

Weighted footstep down empty halls
Bickering shadows yet dance the walls
Faithful motion toward an end
On faithful feet do I depend.
Echoes ring in silent revelry
On yet with thoughts I can’t unsee
Toward the darkened place I know
A place I ever feared to go.

Yet on I walk toward the doom
That lies concealed in tiny room.
I tarry yet before the door
Thoughts and fears once known before
Cold handle grasped within my hand
Judgement of fate I must command.
To release once bonded soul
That it may again be whole.

And thus I greet the vacant stare
To speak of voices never there.
Departing then from cold embrace
To feel sun’s warmth upon my face.
Until the day on which I might
Erase the pains formed of the night.

© Melissa Black, 2014 All rights reserved.


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