Golden in the City

It was a bleak March day. While snow does not always look bland and ugly, on this particular day it did. No amount of Robert Frost’s poetic finesse could spice it up. Days had passed since the snowstorm and what all that remained was a sloshy, grey-brown mess. Icicles had already melted away but the temperature still forced most folks to hustle around in light winter jackets. The winter holidays were months ago and the festive lights had been taken down. All city-goers, including you, rush around, heads buried in their phones, blocking out the grey scene. Had a photographer taken a picture of the street, the image would look the same both with and without a black and white filter. In short, it was a bleak late-winter day. 

At home, nothing spectacular awaits you besides the normal chores that you could do without. So, despite the sightless streets, you trudge onwards aimlessly, hoping to delay your return home as much as possible. Shuffling your feet a bit, you find a small pebble and begin dribbling it down the road. A distant bell chimes three times; a signal that everyone had grown indifferent to yet today, something about the way it rings causes you to look up. Each ‘dong’ sounds crisper and cleaner, as if it somehow, for a brief moment, cleared the air of smog and the ground of dust. As the last ring fades away, you find yourself standing in front of a plain, green, metal door. Just like any other door in the entire city, the edges of the paint had peeled up, revealing the rusted metal between. The house number, 136, had dirty-orange drippings running down from it. Right before you look away, this run-down door starts to morph into a magnificent/elaborate great oak door; the type of medieval-style door you’d expect King Arthur to burst through on his way into his castle. 

The wood is heavily textured and a large golden knocker hangs down at about eye level. Even the handle has a sturdy, golden look, just begging you to pull on it. Through the keyhole, gentle music flows out. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, you drag the handle towards you and peek inside. A beautiful golden light bursts out and pulls you into the room. Taking a few moments to adjust to the brightness and recollect yourself, you find yourself in a long hallway with the stereo at the end. Gone are your shoes and the rich-crimson carpet tickles the soles of your feet. Golden lines and blobs that vaguely resemble leaves guide you towards the music player. When you reach it, you click the off button. The sound echos around, defying the fact that the size of the hall and the carpet should have prevented it from doing so. Even more puzzling, though the lights on the machine had turned off, music still flowed from its speakers. 

As you try to figure out where the music came from, a quiet, high-pitched child’s laughter comes from the wall, making you turn your head to face the noise. Suddenly, a door appears, seemingly from nowhere. Without questioning it, you open it and enter. 

Ok, so I wrote this a while back in English class after a guided meditation so I'm 99% sure it's a response to that, or maybe it was what I was thinking directly after that meditation. Either way, hope you enjoyed this non-scientific essay. :)