sequel

I don't have the time for this, but its stirring again.

The Person stood in front of the door, waiting. All his life, he'd been waiting. He'd been waiting so long, it seemed time no longer existed, because he took no notice of it. It did not matter because time would continue to pass. As usual, he knocked again. As usual, he heard no response. He sighed. And knocked again.

He heard a thump behind the door, as he had so many times before. He heard footfalls, people laughing. He heard a baby cry and a dog bark and a glass shatter. Life was going on without him. True, there was life here, with him, on this side of the door, and he loved it. But it was his heart's desire to open the door. To unite the two sides. Ever since... well... he didn't know how long ago it was, because it was such a very long time. But someone had closed the door.

And the closing of this door had left him separated from people he loved. He loved the people on this side too. But every day, every night, he daydreamed of the day the door opened. He thought and planned and acted and knocked. Always knocking. Always monotonous. But always worth it. They'll hear me one day. One day, the door will open.

But one day, something happened. One day, a little mouse came under the floor boards. This mouse had great wisdom. No one knew where this mouse came from, but he was highly respected. He told the Person the door would not open without action. He told the Person how to open the door. The Person was overjoyed! He had waited so many years, and now, finally, he had the chance to see it happen.

The Person embarked on his journey. He had to find a rare flower growing in a field. It was red, and had soft, velvety petals. Its fragrance was subtle, and sweet. But it was a passionate fragrance. Appropriate for the Person, who was also passionate in his desire for the door to open. This field was very far away, and the Person couldn't get there by walking. He had to crawl, through twisty tunnels on his hands and knees. He had to hike up mountains and climb cliffs. He had to go through cities and villages, and help people. He had to walk along the edge of a high cliff. He stopped. It was very high. He wasn't afraid of heights, but he knew the danger. a wall rose up on his right, and there was open air on his left. Step by step, he moved forward and the ledge became narrower and narrower. He thought of turning back, but this was the way the mouse had told him to go. This was the way to the field with the flowers. He had to do this because without the flower, and without the trials of getting the flower, the door could not open. The flower's fragrance would penetrate the door when he could not.

He put his foot down and the ledge creaked. He pulled it up a little, and saw that someone had driven a spike into it, causing the rock to fracture. Who would do that? Who would try to prevent people from reaching the flowers? He shook his head. No choice but to continue on. He had to get to the flowers. He took another step. The ledge cracked and fell away, and he lost his balance. He felt his back scrape across the remaining part of the ledge. He twisted his hand around and grabbed for anything he could. In the next moment, he felt something hard beneath his fingers and rock against his forehead. His eyes went black for a moment, but he closed them and concentrated on his hand that was gripping the ledge for dear life.

When he could see again, he noticed that enough of the ledge was left that his fingers would still grip it all the way across, assuming his strength held out. He reached his other hand up, and felt blood tickle his spine. Then he felt some drip down the tip of his nose as well. Nothing to do but go on. Do this for the flower. Hand by hand, he swung himself along the ledge, until he could see that it widened. His fingertips were bloody by the end, and his arms shaking uncontrollably. He had reached a place where he could swing his legs up, but he did not have the strength. He stopped, and hung there for a while. Panting, he put his head against the cool rock. Sweat mingled with the blood on his back and it began to sting. Sweat and blood poured down his forehead and mixed with the tears streaming down his cheeks.

He inhaled, and then quickly, he flexed his arms, swinging one foot up at the same time. His heel caught on the ledge. At last! A tiny bit of relief for his aching arms. Slowly, he managed to pull himself onto the ledge. His lungs and heart pounding, he rolled facedown and put his cheek to the cool stone. His arms were still shaking. He had trouble unflexing them. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he didn't know how much time had passed. But he was rewarded for his efforts. The ledge had taken him around a bend, and beyond this bend was a little field nestled on the mountain. The field was full of flowers and a sweet scent hung over the entire area. The air hummed with bees busy on their meanderings through the field, happy and fat. Just the sight made him forget the ache in his back and head and arms. It made him forget his pain. And then he looked at his fingers. The blood was gone. He raised his hand to his head. Nothing. Not even a bit of skin scratched. Not a single drop of blood was on his body.

What a wonderful place this must be! What a wonderful flower grew here. He went forward, following the mouse's instructions, and followed the path into the field. He wanted to run through it, and he wanted to lie down and sleep all at once. He went to the center, near an old oak tree, and gathered up 5 of the flowers closest to the trunk. These were the sweeter smelling flowers, the flowers that were healthier and more ripe. As he turned to follow the path around the tree, he came across some long planks and a rope. He wondered what they were for, and then it hit him. The path turned back on itself here. The path went back the way he'd just come. He had to go back over the ledge without crushing the flowers. The realization hit him full in the face. Someone had placed the boards here with the rope because they knew the ledge was a problem. And they knew that he would be going back, and they knew how much the flowers meant to him. And they wanted the ledge to be a struggle. If it weren't, the flowers and the results of getting them would not be as precious. He smiled a tired smile, and lifted the planks and rope.

After many struggles, he found he had come to the end of his journey. The flowers were dried out, but still carried a sweet scent around them. He brought them to the mouse, who smiled and told him he had done well. After more instructions, the mouse left. The Person put the flowers in a bowl, and placed a cloth over them. He put his hands into the bowl, and slowly began to knead the cloth, crushing the flowers. The smell grew stronger, especially when he had removed the cloth, and shaken the flower fragments back into the bowl. He then turned, and took a pot of boiling water, pouring it over the flower powder. The aroma multiplied, and soon, the whole room was heavy with the wonderful scent. He turned and placed the bowl in front of the door, knocking once more. Still no answer. But as he watched, a rich color filled the bowl. It was a reddish, purple hue, and it slowly colored the steam as well. He watched the steam rise and a cool breeze blew it into the keyhole and under the boards. He smiled.

It was getting in. He knocked again. He heard a noise, and pressed his ear to the door. Someone was on the other side, doing something. It was probably an everyday, ordinary something. But slowly, the someone on the other side began to sniffle. It was the painful, anguished sniffle of someone trying not to cry. He remembered the feeling. He had felt it while on the ledge, holding on for dear life, trying to be brave and strong and not cry. But the farther he went on, and the closer he got to the flowers, the more he had allowed himself to cry.

He knocked again. He wanted to hold the someone on the other side, and wrap his arms around them and tell them he'd be there for them. He wanted to give them comfort. He remembered the feeling well, because he'd been there. But after a few minutes, he had a new thought. What if the person just needed some privacy? Remembering the exhilaration he felt when he'd pulled himself onto the ledge again, he felt like an intruder, spying. He decided to give them some privacy for a while. Let them work through their tears like he had his own. He knocked again, not expecting an answer, and turned away, slipping quietly into the next room. He sat down to wait. Then, he heard a noise. Was it a door opening? He rushed into the hallway, just in time to see the sliver of light disappear behind the door. He was disappointed, but he smiled. The opening of the door had allowed great amounts of the scent of the flowers to cross through. He chuckled. If it can happen once, it can happen again. One day, he would be reunited with those he loved on the other side of that door.