The Door (another assignment from Creative Writing)

That looks carved in there. Impossible to move. I wonder what it's there for?Is it just chilling—just being a door stuck in this tree? That doesn't even make sense. That makes about as much sense as ... as much sense as... something that doesn't make sense. Calculus. A door in this tree makes as much sense as calculus.

The forest around David was vast. How did I get so lost in here? The trees' shadows swayed across the forest floor and up and down trunks as the wind softly pushed and pulled the branches above. The sunbeams shone here and there throughout the woods, but a large beam fell directly onto the doorway from above and behind David. The door was carved into the massive trunk of the largest tree Jarad had ever seen—why haven't I seen this before?—and had an organic aesthetic to it. As though, almost, it hadn't been carved, but instead had grown thus. Wildly growing branches grew out of the doorway around it—for the door was embedded deep in the trunk—and took advantage of the sunlight that seemed to call David to the doorway, casting light shadows over it. The door itself had an imperfectly shaped round handle and rough bark jamb. By the looks of the jamb, David noticed that the door would have to open inward.

The wind gained force, causing the shadows to dance wildly—David heard, or thought he heard, very quickly-spoken unintelligible whispers. The voiced gained volume, and lost clarity. The wind continued blowing harder. Harder.

Stop.

The wind stopped. Trees halted: frozen in their bent over state, appearing as though they would topple over at any moment. But it didn't matter: moments weren't passing, so the trees could not fall.

David looked up. Woah. The wind had not just been blowing that way—at his back—but it was blowing from all directions toward the door. all trees and plants were bent toward the door. Where are my friends? I need to show someone.

The whispers came back—but now as a conversational voice, and slowly.

“Knock and it will be opened unto you.”

“Knock and it will be opened unto you.”

“Knock and it will be opened unto you.”

The phrase repeated, each time in a different voice. It continued.

I can't not go toward the door. Nothing was physically holding David. But his mind could not bear to consider anything but opening that door. His mind had lost interest in anything but opening the bizarre door. There was nothing else. Only the door. One step closer.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. I've seen this. Grampa drew this door. This is the door I saw in a letter I received from Grampa. He drew it and mentioned the wonders inside. I'm stronger than he was. I can handle it. But he was sent to the asylum for his stories about this door and the effects the world beyond it had on his mind.

Let's see.

David knocked.