Opening

*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.

 There she stood, tall and neutral in appearance, with long brown hair of oak, and scuffed shoes of mahogany, hinged by the monotonous obligations of her too predictable life, like a used door, passed by every day by strangers, neighbors, and lovers alike, faded in the background as an object designed merely to adhere and be silent, expected to open up to all visitors at their convenience, letting them in only to immediately be slammed shut, forgotten, and left to be handled again.

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.