It had been an opaque morning that melded into a veiled night.
Johannes had drunk copiously all day and was markedly stupefied. Inebriation meant the reason for pursuing drunken escape was utterly lost to him, but the painful and languid result of excessive alcohol consumption was not.
Lethargically, dozing in and out of listless slumber he drifted in a fermented fever.
Crushing pains to the head, unrepressed legs and arms, and a mouth uncomfortably dry directed his parched body to seek rehydration. However, fear of searing brain pain countered this yearning for liquid, spinning indecision into thoughts of a watery crusade.
Whilst grappling with hesitance, Johannes fumbled his deep pocket in search of his keys.
So many keys! So… so many keys! Large, small, gold, silver, bronze, long, short, embossed, plain, flat, oval, old, new… so many keys! How many had he accumulated during his time? Perhaps, many more than could be often enough turned.
Singled out amidst the gathered bunch was a long-shanked key constructed out of silver and fashioned such as to have a square head and a broad shoulder which supported a well-worn but serviceable set of teeth. It was a key he had used frequently with careless abandon. How casually and unworried had this key opened its door in the past? How dependable had the mechanism clicked as the key turned, and what cavalier reassurance and unperturbed comfort had its reliability provided Johannes? How regularly had he enjoyed the ease with which he could access the delights beyond the door? This key was most definitely one to treasure and not to take for granted.
Clutching the cherished key in his muddled hands, caressing it tenderly in thought, Johannes remembered. Yes… remembered why he had willingly subjected his body to liquid abuse: A quest of unconscious sanctuary.
Still confounded with alcohol-fuelled delirium, Johannes lurched alongan enclosed empty cobblestone channel gripping the silver key firmly.
Was he walking, or floating; or even dreaming perhaps? He couldn’t tell in his drunken state of mind; the passage was lacking discernible dimension, such that disorientation was inevitable.
Above, below, to the sides, ahead and behind, irregular stone bricked walls absorbed a multitude of doors; nestled everywhere in varying size, shape, material and colour.
Seemingly endless, the cobble stone passage mistily evaporated into itself; oppressively crushing the dank atmosphere within which Johannes moved with ethereal deftness.
Resolutely, Johannes drifted by door after door after door… All bore locks to which he possessed a key, but distraction of solace from them temped him not.
Out of the haze, fading into view, was a large door of solid oak construction. Knotted and notched with age; conveying silent wisdom, as if the door’s time had been well spent observing and learning its surrounds.
Johannes touched the door tenderly, running his hand in a thoughtful downward caress.
How easy this limed-oak door had always been in the past to unlock with the silver key?
How unconditionally its hinges had swung open to offer safety and security in its egress?
And yet, now… abruptly, the mechanism had failed.
The silver key was no longer able to turn the drum of the lock.
No amount of rotating, twisting or jiggling could coax the silver key to unlock the door’s usually dependable latch.
This had sadly happened to other doors of course…
But, NO! Not this one… please, not this one!
Johannes shook the door’s globular brass knob in desperation.
Repeatedly banging the panels with his fist until unable to muster any more energy he fell to his knees. Tears streamed down arid cheeks and stung his skin; the door must open… it must! Uncontrollable sobs loathed the door for denying access to what lay beyond.
Slumped in a heap, Johannes indifferentlyexamined his keys, rummaging and muttering simultaneously. He had a name for all of them: Little Peter (a recently added key to the collection) as was tiny Gwen; Lucy, David, Gill, Dmitry (that one stopped working some time ago now, he thought). Johannes repeatedly flicked through the assortment, attempting to recall the keys that still functioned; even the serviceable ones could be unreliable at times. A small brass key, diminutive and tainted with bitter-tasting verdigris came into view; he studied it wearily - this key had not been used for a long time.
Would ‘Mother’ open the door? No; keys and locks are inimitably linked! He knew that.
He succumbed.
It was no good; the limed-oak door to his father had been fastened and sealed forever.
The silver key had become obsolete.
Acceptance of this irrevocable truth and the permanence of its hard-hitting harshness, ruptured Johanne’s soul and defeated the last remnants of optimism.
More drink?
Maybe.
Rising yieldingly, Johannes, felt isolated and lost. Devoid of direction, he ambled amongst the doors to his life acquaintances clutching his bunch of keys.
Should he open any of the other doors?
When would they fail?
They all inevitably would, some day. Ultimately, all locks failed, bringing eternal closure.
Sadness weighed upon him like heavy air, until his sombre thoughts and aimless meander brought him towards the end of his solitary door collaged passage.
Directly ahead, Johannes observed light pouring in from an open door,
Exposed, vulnerable and fragile… it was his very own door.
He had never perceived of it before.
With head relentlessly pounding from over excess and with excruciating weight squeezing his soul hard, Johannes’ slowly reached out for his door’s simple handle; he pulled it closed and deadlocked it from the inside. The bunch of keys were meekly dropped, and Johannes allowed himself to be absorbed into the empty dark grief that engulfed him.
Johannes had drunk copiously all day and was markedly stupefied. Inebriation meant the reason for pursuing drunken escape was utterly lost to him, but the painful and languid result of excessive alcohol consumption was not.
Lethargically, dozing in and out of listless slumber he drifted in a fermented fever.
Crushing pains to the head, unrepressed legs and arms, and a mouth uncomfortably dry directed his parched body to seek rehydration. However, fear of searing brain pain countered this yearning for liquid, spinning indecision into thoughts of a watery crusade.
Whilst grappling with hesitance, Johannes fumbled his deep pocket in search of his keys.
So many keys! So… so many keys! Large, small, gold, silver, bronze, long, short, embossed, plain, flat, oval, old, new… so many keys! How many had he accumulated during his time? Perhaps, many more than could be often enough turned.
Singled out amidst the gathered bunch was a long-shanked key constructed out of silver and fashioned such as to have a square head and a broad shoulder which supported a well-worn but serviceable set of teeth. It was a key he had used frequently with careless abandon. How casually and unworried had this key opened its door in the past? How dependable had the mechanism clicked as the key turned, and what cavalier reassurance and unperturbed comfort had its reliability provided Johannes? How regularly had he enjoyed the ease with which he could access the delights beyond the door? This key was most definitely one to treasure and not to take for granted.
Clutching the cherished key in his muddled hands, caressing it tenderly in thought, Johannes remembered. Yes… remembered why he had willingly subjected his body to liquid abuse: A quest of unconscious sanctuary.
Still confounded with alcohol-fuelled delirium, Johannes lurched alongan enclosed empty cobblestone channel gripping the silver key firmly.
Was he walking, or floating; or even dreaming perhaps? He couldn’t tell in his drunken state of mind; the passage was lacking discernible dimension, such that disorientation was inevitable.
Above, below, to the sides, ahead and behind, irregular stone bricked walls absorbed a multitude of doors; nestled everywhere in varying size, shape, material and colour.
Seemingly endless, the cobble stone passage mistily evaporated into itself; oppressively crushing the dank atmosphere within which Johannes moved with ethereal deftness.
Resolutely, Johannes drifted by door after door after door… All bore locks to which he possessed a key, but distraction of solace from them temped him not.
Out of the haze, fading into view, was a large door of solid oak construction. Knotted and notched with age; conveying silent wisdom, as if the door’s time had been well spent observing and learning its surrounds.
Johannes touched the door tenderly, running his hand in a thoughtful downward caress.
How easy this limed-oak door had always been in the past to unlock with the silver key?
How unconditionally its hinges had swung open to offer safety and security in its egress?
And yet, now… abruptly, the mechanism had failed.
The silver key was no longer able to turn the drum of the lock.
No amount of rotating, twisting or jiggling could coax the silver key to unlock the door’s usually dependable latch.
This had sadly happened to other doors of course…
But, NO! Not this one… please, not this one!
Johannes shook the door’s globular brass knob in desperation.
Repeatedly banging the panels with his fist until unable to muster any more energy he fell to his knees. Tears streamed down arid cheeks and stung his skin; the door must open… it must! Uncontrollable sobs loathed the door for denying access to what lay beyond.
Slumped in a heap, Johannes indifferentlyexamined his keys, rummaging and muttering simultaneously. He had a name for all of them: Little Peter (a recently added key to the collection) as was tiny Gwen; Lucy, David, Gill, Dmitry (that one stopped working some time ago now, he thought). Johannes repeatedly flicked through the assortment, attempting to recall the keys that still functioned; even the serviceable ones could be unreliable at times. A small brass key, diminutive and tainted with bitter-tasting verdigris came into view; he studied it wearily - this key had not been used for a long time.
Would ‘Mother’ open the door? No; keys and locks are inimitably linked! He knew that.
He succumbed.
It was no good; the limed-oak door to his father had been fastened and sealed forever.
The silver key had become obsolete.
Acceptance of this irrevocable truth and the permanence of its hard-hitting harshness, ruptured Johanne’s soul and defeated the last remnants of optimism.
More drink?
Maybe.
Rising yieldingly, Johannes, felt isolated and lost. Devoid of direction, he ambled amongst the doors to his life acquaintances clutching his bunch of keys.
Should he open any of the other doors?
When would they fail?
They all inevitably would, some day. Ultimately, all locks failed, bringing eternal closure.
Sadness weighed upon him like heavy air, until his sombre thoughts and aimless meander brought him towards the end of his solitary door collaged passage.
Directly ahead, Johannes observed light pouring in from an open door,
Exposed, vulnerable and fragile… it was his very own door.
He had never perceived of it before.
With head relentlessly pounding from over excess and with excruciating weight squeezing his soul hard, Johannes’ slowly reached out for his door’s simple handle; he pulled it closed and deadlocked it from the inside. The bunch of keys were meekly dropped, and Johannes allowed himself to be absorbed into the empty dark grief that engulfed him.
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