{"sf1_id":919307,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Journey (The Gate)","author":"Zycaneus","words":1590,"posted_at":"2015-10-08T17:12:00.000Z","tags":["Dream","Short Story"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/919307-journey-the-gate","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/919307","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=919307\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"JOURNEY.txt  \nCreated : 1980  \nWC = 1,564  \nBy : Zycaneus  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; JOURNEY (THE GATE)  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Gate!\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There is a gate before me.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; On this,\u0026nbsp; the journey of self into self.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; So high it stands upon the rocky shore. . .\u0026nbsp; the base of that mountain into which the gate now bars passage.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I have journeyed a sea of sorts to reach here.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A sea comprised not of water, but of the dark mists of nothingness.\u0026nbsp; My feet also speak of rolling grasslands before that, and my mind of empty spaces traversed with much trepidation.\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I gaze up at the doors and ask what lies beyond that portal so bare?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Be it the land of the lost, or salvation eternal?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Be it of nether?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Of something else entirely?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I know not.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Tall, smooth, rather plain, red doors stand silent in their magnitude.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Do not dwell on what could be.\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I tell this to myself.   \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Go forward into what is.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I know not whether the doors will even open for me.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; What if\u0026nbsp; they do not?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Would I be disappointed?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Would it matter?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Why does anything matter?  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; What, I ask myself, makes the difference in anything I may encounter.\u0026nbsp; What makes some things important and others not?\u0026nbsp; Should I even ask why I am here?\u0026nbsp; Would it matter what the answer may be?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Would it make a difference as to why I should try and seek entrance into what lies beyond those doors of alien metal?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Would I try harder to open them?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; To desire to see what is beyond with greater fervor?\u0026nbsp; Perhaps if that be the case, then I may ask again do I really wish to know why I am here?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; For what if I should learn that what lies beyond those doors is something I've wished for all of my life.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Desired with all of my heart and soul.\u0026nbsp; Then as I rush forward in frantic anticipation, and those doors choose to bar me from my burning desire as I discover them to be hopelessly locked.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; An impenetrable barrier to my dreams.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Oh what anguish.\u0026nbsp; What loss.\u0026nbsp; What failure I would feel.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; My hopes may be dashed forever, and I'm left a crumpled, useless, broken thing, because of it.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Left with the undeniable knowledge that attaining what lies beyond those doors is forever out of my reach.\u0026nbsp; Perhaps then my whole reason for life itself will be no longer viable.\u0026nbsp; And without a reason for life, of which I'm sure there is.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; (Else why would there be such a thing as life? ) I would become as listless as my life was meaningless.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Oh what crueler fate could be imagined?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; To die, not in some heroic battle or act, or even as a helpless victim to be pitied, but because there simply wasn't any reason to go on.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Nothing to live for.\u0026nbsp; I look again at the doors, tall and ominous.\u0026nbsp; What a terrible power they hold over me.\u0026nbsp; The power to end my life, by simply not allowing themselves to be opened.\u0026nbsp; I shudder at the thought.\u0026nbsp; I want to hide my face from them, to turn and flee for my life.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Confident that they are only doors, they could not follow me.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I could flee back the way I had come.\u0026nbsp; They would remain here. They could not follow me, or hunt me down like some predator stalking its prey. I could return to where ever it was I had come from.\u0026nbsp; Go back to the life I had led, whatever that may have been.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; And those doors would remain here forever.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Forever...   \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Or would they?  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; In sudden horror I realized that I would never be free of them.\u0026nbsp; That they could indeed follow me anywhere I went.\u0026nbsp; For they would always be there in my memories.\u0026nbsp; Waiting...\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; How could I leave them?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It wouldn't matter that I\u0026nbsp; go back to what I was, returning to the strife of everyday life, only to know that these doors will always be here.\u0026nbsp; Why should I think that whatever goal I might choose to work for could possibly have any real meaning, if it would ultimately come down to those doors?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Those ever so plain,\u0026nbsp; ever so smooth doors.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; One might imagine\u0026nbsp; that doors that held the power that those did, would be more than just plain, unadorned metal.\u0026nbsp; They hold my very life within their cold enthrall.\u0026nbsp; Could they not even have the decency to appear as the true objects of power that they are?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Instead of just two plain red doors.\u0026nbsp; They could if they so chose, have the look of the heavenly gates themselves.\u0026nbsp; All golden and gleaming.\u0026nbsp; With carved and molded relief so beautiful in their intricacy, and artful styles that it blinded the eyes to look at them.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Indeed the gates of heaven would be so splendorous that it numbed the mind to gaze upon it.\u0026nbsp; They would not be just two plain red doors.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Two very, red doors.\u0026nbsp; Not all that shiny.\u0026nbsp; Not a high-gloss, high quality paint.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; More like the dull utility paint used to protect metal from the weather.\u0026nbsp; That base undercoat that is usually the same color as the rust its supposed to guard against.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They weren't outstandingly red.\u0026nbsp; They were just very, very red.\u0026nbsp; If they were the doors of hell, the gateways to the inferno, perhaps there was a reason for them to be red.\u0026nbsp; Blood red.\u0026nbsp; The color of blood after it had lain in the open air for a while.\u0026nbsp; But were they the gates into eternal damnation?\u0026nbsp; The gates of hell would be more hideous than this.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They would be the massive iron doors like that of the darkest\u0026nbsp; dungeon.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They would be probably be coated in continuously dripping slime.\u0026nbsp; Acidic slime that burned the hand of whoever touched it.\u0026nbsp; Their bolts and framing would glow from the incredible heat on the other side.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; And they would but barely muffle the sounds of an unimaginable number of souls trapped in eternal torment.\u0026nbsp; Caught in the place of never-ending agony and pain.\u0026nbsp; Their pathetic voices of their combined pain would radiate from the outside of the doors along with the waves of heat and the stench of brimstone.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Ah, now that would the gates of hell make.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Not... just two very plain, very red, doors.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Why red?\u0026nbsp; What could it mean?\u0026nbsp; Did it symbolize something?\u0026nbsp; Red was the color of blood.\u0026nbsp; Or sometimes was associated with sex.\u0026nbsp; Red light district and all that.\u0026nbsp; Were they the doors of a secret sex cult?\u0026nbsp; I envision a room full of goddess worshiping women.\u0026nbsp; The doors of the temple are red to represent the time of their menstrual cycles.\u0026nbsp; Yet if these were women in their time of bleed, would they wish to see me?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Would I be welcomed here?\u0026nbsp; Or an object of scorn.\u0026nbsp; Perhaps the image of the very reason they had to seek out such a desolate place.\u0026nbsp; That they may be apart for a time from those like me.\u0026nbsp; Yet another reason not to open those doors.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Ah thy doors of many mysteries.\u0026nbsp; What wonders do you keep me from?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Or what horrors do you keep from me?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I see that I can not tell if the doors open outward or inward.\u0026nbsp; Are they barred from within or without.\u0026nbsp; For barred or locked must they be, else why put doors there at all?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A naturally logical deduction from a logical man.\u0026nbsp; I can pride myself on such.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Just as I can well now imagine why such doors be made into the side of a mountain as those.\u0026nbsp; For assuredly they hold back some horror.\u0026nbsp; Obviously this mountain is a keep, restraining some nightmare from unleashing its terror upon an unsuspecting world.\u0026nbsp; And to think that I almost had tried to open  \nthose doors.\u0026nbsp; I, all by myself might have let loose something that could've devastated most of the world before it was stopped.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Contained, and brought back here.\u0026nbsp; I might have been responsible for the loss of innumerable lives.\u0026nbsp; The cause of possibly the collapse of civilization as we know it today.\u0026nbsp; I... Me!  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; What power!  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; What a great secret to carry with me.\u0026nbsp; What dark esoteric knowledge I now hold.\u0026nbsp; I have seen the doors.\u0026nbsp; I know what lies beyond them.\u0026nbsp; No matter what happens to me now, I have confronted the secret of the doors.\u0026nbsp; I know what waits beyond them.\u0026nbsp; They no longer hold power over me, for I now hold power over them.\u0026nbsp; I\u0026nbsp; shall return to my world.\u0026nbsp; Their dark secret safely inside me.\u0026nbsp; Should I tell my people about the doors?\u0026nbsp; Should I warn them about what waits here?\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; No... It'll stay my secret.\u0026nbsp; My knowledge that I alone know of.\u0026nbsp; Such Power I have.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; To be able to look upon\u0026nbsp; others of my kind and know what lies in wait for them.\u0026nbsp; As they move about oblivious  \nto the horror that awaits them beyond those doors.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; And so I turn, and walk away.\u0026nbsp; Back in the direction from whence I came.\u0026nbsp; I have won!\u0026nbsp; I\u0026nbsp; have broken the spell the doors had placed upon me.\u0026nbsp; I deduced the horror that they kept at bay.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They could not tempt me to open them.\u0026nbsp; I walk back to my people a free man.\u0026nbsp; Behind me, those doors still stand.\u0026nbsp; Those plain,\u0026nbsp; very red doors at the foot of the mountain.\u0026nbsp; Those very silent doors.\u0026nbsp; Still stand, awaiting their next victim.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \n  \n  \n\n"}