The White Doorway

The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.” 14 acres of past glory, it’s derelict low walls and ornate gate bearing patches of what could pass for paint.
My legs were roaming the little streets of the dead at 3am. White washed little doorways left and right. I took this out of madness, now I’m here this really is madness.
To earn what has been forgotten, go to the forgotten and ask. I knew the shaman meant the cemetery but would this really cure me.
Sit as a Buddha at an empty doorway, knock like the dead. My fainting heart, took a dive when I finally settled in an empty grave, maybe the shaman was the real deal. Huge beads of sweat slowly gathered where my heart should have been as I sat cross legged in the grave.
Offer what the dead can’t get and it will be yours. Breathing in the fresh earth, the moons cold rays reach in as though waiting for me to knock on the door of the dead. I was deep into this, more than 6feet deep judging by the musty smell of marshland the cemetery stood on. I’m supposed to hold the charm head high and chant some words. Raising my hands high, the charm glistened oddly, one hand searched for the scrap of enchantment.
When you knock, fear not for fear feeds the shadows. Closing my eyes, my chant seemed to echo emptiness. The wind raised its howl, my heart faltered, my hands shook and I clenched my eyelids shut. I could sense my hands, warm and shaking and I wasn’t shivering any were else.


Inspired by Mondays Finish The Story: 31st August 2015

 

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