Doors after that one door. And another door.

I opened the door and I saw a group of people siting around a big shirtless man. The man had a stack of bags next to him. The people around him looked old and sad. But they looked ready for whatever the man was going to do next. I was curious, so I walked nearer to the group and saw that the man was putting the people into the bag one by one. One by one the people goes into the bag and he sealed each bag with a rope.

The last one I saw going into the bag was an old man. He looks like 60s and sad sad. He looked at me for a while before willingly let the man put him into the bag. I asked the big man “where are the bags going to”? He said that “they are going into the nearby river and I’m going into the bag too.”

I started to feel scared, but I was so little I can’t do anything about it, but cry. I saw an open door in one corner and there sat my mom in my house doing her work. I screamed at her for help but she only give me a look while still doing whatever she was doing. And I was put into the bag.

The next moment I realized that there was another door in another corner. I went through that door and I am walking home on the sidewalk of that house. I couldn’t find the way home that day. But I’d forgotten how was the story ended.

If you are lost in between the story, ask yourself the question “How did I get here?”. If you can’t answer that question, you’re probably dreaming. Or you can also press the “Back” button on your web browser.


4 responses to “Doors after that one door. And another door.

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