A Closed Door

June 3rd, 2009

She knelt on the floor, hands folded, head down, unmoving. The room was coming apart around her. The ropes fell to the ground, released from their hooks. The floggers and whips packed away in crates. The lights unstrung, lying lifeless. The mats rolled up, tables and chairs folded and stacked. The dream had failed and come crashing down around her.

Bodies move, brushing past her – carrying, cleaning, tearing it all down. Loud noises and raised voices bounced around her, but she could not hear them. Her hair hung down in her face, a curtain closed to the world.

The swirling masses dissipated, taking everything with them. The room was empty, cavernous and silent. She rose to her feet in a languid motion. Raising her chin, she pulled back her hair and looked around. Turning in a full circle, she took in the bare walls and empty floor.

Lifting her arms above her head, she let her head fall back, eyes closed as she drew in the last remnants of energy from the place that had been her home. Slowly, she pulled her arms back in, crossing them over her chest and then letting them fall. She took one last breath, strode out the door and shut it firmly on that chapter of her life.


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