The Doorway: Part II

She was dead, her body floated through. The last few flashes of her life had been the most painful. The ganging up, the violation and then her ultimate demise. Her phantom floated there in the darkness with no heartbeat, just a spirit.

Her body was milky transparent white and she hovered in darkness. Then, a large doorway appeared, it shone bright for a moment before the shine vanished. The, she could see the door clearly. It was carved of stone in a semi-circular manner. There were intricate designs on it.

Aware of her body float, she began to wade her hand through the darkness and swim to the door. It cracked open. A line appeared in the middle of the door and slowly, the door parted open. What she saw in there horrified her.

A black mound of matter engulfed the insides of the door. There were black, dark shadow hands that started extending from the door. First, there five, then ten, twenty, thirty, forty and then she lost count. Her feet kicked and struggled to push herself behind away from the mass of hands. Her efforts were fruitless. They latched onto her, spreading their black fingers onto her body and they pulled her to the door.

There was nothing she could grab onto to stop them. Gently she was tugged into the black mass. However, her horror was far from over. Eyes, millions of eyes seemed to open in this black mass.

“She has been hurt”, a mouth suddenly appeared.

“Yes, she has been gravely injured”, another mouth appeared.

Then a hundred of mouth appeared on the black mass. “We do not deserve her”, they said in unison and her body was pushed away. The doors closed slowly faded away into the darkness.

Instead, another door appeared behind her. A single simple rectangle door which swung open and bright light poured forth as some unseen force pulled her in.

***

Anita had lived a full life, aged and then died. Her milky body floated in the darkness. The large doorway appeared and as it opened up, a growing swell of dark hands stretched out and grabbed her. Her legs kicked the darkness trying to fight against the pull, but it was of no use.

The million of eyes stared at her. Then a mouth appeared. “She has done no wrong”.

“Yet, she called and supported for the death of many”, spoke another mouth.

“She has not raised a hand on anybody”, spoke another mouth.

“She called for the death of many”, the same mouth repeated.

“She had done no wrong”, spoke the mouths in union, all expect one.

The hands let her go and she floated back into the darkness as the door faded away.

***

The executioner floated in the darkness. His time on earth was up and his frail body gave way. The doors appeared in the darkness and the hands grabbed him. He did not resist, he did not fight against the hands. The millions of eyes stared at him and he did not shy away from the look, instead he dully stared back.

“This one has killed”, spoke a mouth.

“Not once, but many, many time”, another mouth appeared from the black mass.

“But he did not kill of his own accord, sometimes a nation demanded it, sometimes it was an order passed from above”, a mouth pointed out.

“Aye, judgment made by others which he executes”, one mouth explained.

“It is no matter, his soul is damaged. He belongs to us”.


Like slippery liquid, the hands enveloped the executioner’s body, bringing him closer and before he could realise it, his pale milky translucent body was absorbed by the black mass.  

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The Doorway: Part I

The mob cried for blood with their platcards and their screams, and you can’t forget their anger. “Death to the murderer, death to the killer, death to the rapist”, they chanted out. It was a large crowd which could almost as large as the city itself, except for the few thousand more of citizens who did not bother with the protests. “We demand death for his crimes”, cried one of the protestors to a journalist’s camera.

Woosh

The gushing of water sounded out forcefully, slamming into the protestors who were put the city to a standstill. A police force as large, as the protestors, charged into them with their batons and shields. A police force ordered to charge on peaceful, angry protestors by incompetent leaders.

A child raped and murdered that’s what got the crowd gathered here. The anger and frustration piled up against people who thought they could get away because the lazy system allowed them to get away.

“We must have justice”, cried the television channels. However, while the city radiated of anger, the rest of the country slept, trying to work their through life, like they always do.

***

Anita stood among these protestors, banner in hand, her mouth wide open and her vocal scream out her cause, her ideals. She was here to say enough was enough, enough for those cat calls, enough of being taken advantage off, enough of being harassed and enough of a repressive culture. And with her calls, came the demand for the death of murderer. Her platcard boldly read, ‘An eye of an eye’.

***

Rahul walked tirelessly for the past few hours on the hospital corridor, trying to sooth his worry while his ears were alert for the slightest sound of footsteps, of news on what happened to his child. His wife sat on the metal bench, her body gently arching back and forth, her way of dealing of the wait.

Walking, waiting for the news, it was killing him. He wanted to do something.. like... like... running back to his house and pulling out his service revolver. He did not deserve this, his child did not deserve this. Yet, right now, she was knocking on heaven’s door.

Through his mind, the most violent images flashed through. Images of hammering down a brick wall, strangling the life out of a blurred face, his hands swing down, clutching the hammer and the sickening sound of crunch.


This would not be the first time he killed, it changed him, he could take the damage to his soul.

[No, I'm not done, I still have a point to make, please read The Doorway Part II here]

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