Lucid Waking

Archive for July 9th, 2006

The White

Originally published on September 8, 2006

           The white gate on the edge of the second world was closed for the night and it loomed like a prison. Tall and luminous, the gate imitated a small mundane garden gate; wood panels nailed together and painted lovingly a bright white. But this gate was neither made of wood nor lovingly painted. The gate was hot to the touch and was only painted to cover up the bloodstains, mud smears, handprints, and rubber smudges that soiled its perfect smooth surface. The air was filled with the smells of burned flesh, burnt rubber, and human waste. Not a sound was heard, although people were talking to try to fill up the space.
           The whole place was an illusion anyway. It was only the gate way in between the first world and the second. The whole place was just a void and put together in no apparent order or thought. The space was just a void with the only light coming from behind the gate, through the cracks in between the doors. This place stood for nothing, but the land beyond the gate held hope; the only thought holding the faith of these people together.
           The silent silhouettes of the people waiting for the gate to open splattered the dark of the night like black paint on a black canvas. It was hard to tell the gender of the people since only their heads could be seen. One just knew that the space was filled with people; families were pushed together and forced to live yet again in each other’s presence. There was always the question of living through the night, but these were pushed aside for the madness of no dreams.
            The silence of the sleeping figures was broken by a cacophony of hooves upon the freezing ground. The gate slowly opened, but the fear in the people there tied them down and no one ran. The approaching spirit army went into the second world without a glance back. The gate slammed closed with an earsplitting bang that shook the ground. The people sat fully alert listening to the echoes bouncing off the nothing. The sound slowly died down to nothing but a whisper, but few people could venture back to sleep nor could they calm their beating hearts down enough to even think of dreams.
            A long time passed and the white gate was thrust open. Fog rolled out of it like water out of a dam. Light streamed from the second world, reflecting off seven people’s faces and absorbing into others. This was the time for them to advance to the second world; they were dead afraid. Silence made it’s home into the cavern for a few precious minutes. Then the sound of water, soft but clear, filled the space; it echoed and flowed continuously.
            “You are the chosen,” a small whispered voice said, “why don’t you come home?”
            As if in a dream, the seven chosen stood up and proceeded through the gate. Once they had passed through, and all that was last seen was the heel of a little boy stepping into the fog, the gate shut with the same abrupt noise that it had uttered earlier. The white light still shown over the gate hopefully, but it didn’t shine much longer. All went black.