The Red Door

The Red Door

by

Lia Goldman 

S2DE

Five Years ago, when I was thirteen, I went to London with my parents. Our B&B was in a calm part of the city called Highgate. During the long everyday trips, I looked at each door. I had to have a photo of each, just like people who collect stamps. For each one, I found a subtitle or a description: one was grass-green, the other sky-blue, or yellow like a lemon.

On the fifth day, the day before our departure, I was particularly sad. Just as we were going back to the B&B, I noticed a house on the corner of the street. It was old and grey, but its door was the most beautiful I’d ever seen. A shining red with a thin green design of flowers. Hypnotised, I walked past my parents towards the door. I raised my camera and when I looked at the display to see if the photo was good, I saw nothing but the neighbour house and the street.

There was nothing to see. Neither the door; nor the green letters that formed the sentence: 'Beauty is not in the face. It is a light in the heart.' Surprised I stepped into the garden that had gone wild. Even through I was wearing thick boots, a thorn buried itself in my foot. As I raised my hand in a trance and touched the golden door-knob, the door opened soundlessly. The smell from old things disappeared immediately and it smelt like roses. Behind me I heard my parents call: 'Come back!'. But when I stepped into the house, their voices disappeared too. I couldn’t have explained what the inside of the house was like and today I know that it would have looked different to every single person. In front of me there was a small girl in a small dress. 'Hello, I am Annabel.', said she. On the wooden staircase and from the neighbor rooms children of different ages appeared. 'Where am I?', I asked surprised. 'I can’t tell you.' , answered a boy named Joshua. 'For every one of us sees another place. You’ll have to find out too. But I can tell you one thing: It’s the most beautiful place on earth.' 'What’s with my parents?' I asked and looked at the red door. 'They’re fine. They won’t miss you.' I looked angrily at the girl. She explained calmly, while some of them laughed at the look I had thrown at her. 'Another child is with them now. She looks like you and she thinks like you.' Some of them nodded: 'It's the same for us.' 'Another child?' I looked at her. 'Well, in some way, it’s you. A part of you!'

Five years had passed, at least I believe it has been five years. Five years full of happiness and laughter. And from time to time the red door had disappeared. I had never left the house again. Not that I’d ever wanted to…