*This is a piece that I wrote on February 11th of 2015. Two separate stories, one based on my own experiences and dreams, the other based on the animated film "Anastasia, both linked by anxiety, opportunity, and self-discovery.
Opening
Sleep was
impossible that morning, once anxiety decided to pay a visit and fill the small
void between the wall and the body at rest, coiling itself around every
restless limb. 2:30 a.m. and already it was time to rise and begin another
day. She quietly pulled away the
covers, rolled out of bed, and gingerly placed her feet upon the floor,
attempting not to disturb her easily awakened roommate. Glancing out the window
to the dark, brooding streets that curved around her apartment, she noticed
nothing new, just the same path marked permanently by her shoe prints. Not even
bothering to wear a suitable amount of layers for the particularly chilly
weather, she grabbed her thermos, book, and oversized bag, and hurriedly made
her way to the outside.
She slowed her
pace when the earth met her feet. She knew very well what was to come as soon
as she spotted her destination down the street—the same door that greeted her
every morning. She stopped and closed her eyes, allowing the untamed breeze to
stroke and chill her cheeks. She had no desire to step any further, until she
felt tension course through her as the chill in the air increased and strained
her breath, causing her to feel light headed, yet weighed down at the same
time—for a moment she was suspended in space, surrounded by endless
possibilities that were reflected by the stars, yet unable to grasp them
because of the tightly clasped wires that held her in place.
Continuing her
path and facing the blundering wind, which had claimed the streets and marked
its territory, breaking branches and carrying the fallen leaves along the way,
she felt like a sodden leaf left behind, waiting to be carried by this
enigmatic force to a new place of adventure and impressionable beauty. Instead,
she was to spend more countless hours on monotonous work—in which a more
serious, focused attitude was necessary. She unlocked the plain, grey door and
stepped inside, anxiety following closely behind like a curious companion.
She took to mind
exploration, traveling to new and exotic places, relying on imagination to
experience newly discovered euphoria, such as that which comes from climbing
the perfect tree with branches stretching and reaching new heights and new,
awe-inspiring sights, like that same tall, wooden door—the door she was staring
at in that moment—for she new that everything would change if only she could
reach its threshold.
Suddenly, she felt a shift in her step and she was walking straight ahead toward a
simultaneous entrance and exit. Designed with intricate panels, lit by the
ever-flickering glow of a candle that danced like a frantic fairy in search for
a way around the woods, its presence demanded her attention. She noticed that
which often went unnoticed. If not for the inhibited sensation that had
overcome, her exuded curiosity would have lead her astray. The door
silently mocked her and invited her to step closer to reach for its carefully
crafted exterior—a wall with a handle that, if grasped, would certainly refuse
to budge; unless of course the door was actually unlocked and left for the sake
of escape and discovery, like the wardrobe that contained a passage to Narnia.
She mentally
unveiled the cover and anticipated the future, feeling her shoes sink into a
surface of earthly sap that insisted she stay and allow more time to pass, for
which she chose to ignore. If instead she chose to follow suit and engage
purely in the standard, arranged plan, then joy would not become her, and the
company of unwanted loneliness and stagnancy would seek her out further. She took
a deep breath and reached for the door handle.
***
“He opened a
wall”, the orphan Anya stated in revelation, curious as to how it could have
been possible, and amazed at the improbable recollection. Indeed that was how
she and her grand mama had escaped from the evil man’s curse of death upon that
distant fortnight. The Romanov line had not been eliminated and she had a lot
to be grateful for, especially the opened wall, like a door secretly waiting to
be discovered: a door with an ability to transport a desperate passerby to
another realm of freedom and safety.
“I’m sorry, that’s
impossible, walls opening…” Anya concluded in disbelief, after further
consideration.
Then again, if it
had not opened, how had she escaped? Because she had… she had escaped and, though her true identity was still an unsolved
mystery, she did know that the memories flooding her mind, like a deep body of
water filled with opulent, re-surfaced treasure, were vivid and felt
increasingly real and paramount. As she continued to think about the night that
had erased her memories, like a cherished photo album depleted in an unforeseen
house fire, lying scared and alone across the pavement, and accompanied by the
bitter frost of freshly fallen snow, she recalled the fear that had occupied
her every fiber for the short time that she was held captive.
Images of the room
appeared, shaded and small, with one window concealed by striking red curtains
that lightly draped over an old doll house, set by the sill, from which a
flight of green demonic creatures emerged, filling the air with streams of
deceased dreams and awakened nightmares. At the time, Anya whole heartedly
thought that was the end and that her body would be left to rot in seclusion,
until a young boy, whom she had seen before from somewhere within the castle,
appeared from opposite the viridescent stained doll house, and motioned for her
to join him in the mysterious spacing behind the wall.
However, she could
not. Exhausted of her former independence, Anya found that her legs were
suddenly paralyzed and devoid of all feeling, The boy saw her desperation and plead,
“Come this way, out the servant’s quarters!” and quickly grabbed her hand, then
pushed her through the door-like opening, which led to a hidden passage and,
furthermore, to Anya’s deliverance. Everything she had known was left behind.
