Picture it and write: The Keeper

by joetwo

Hello, this is my offering for this weeks picture it and write from Ermilia’s blog here. The picture isn’t mine, I just use it for inspiration. Anyway, enjoy!

The keeper

The old man walked along the endless corridor, the tattered end of his old robes rubbing against the polished paving stones. He was getting slower but he did not rest, he could not rest. To the untrained eye, each of the solid iron doors that lined the corridor looked identical, but he had been there a long time, he could tell at a glance. Each door had a feel to it, a mood that could tell what was inside it. Many were never to be opened, not important, or too important. As he made is rounds, the old man turned his attention from door to door, searching for something. He wasn’t sure what he was after, but he would know when he found it.

The old man had passed by many doors until he found one that grabbed his attention, Looking straight at it, growing more and more excited. He touched the cold cast-iron metal, held his ear to it, listened. “Yes, Yes” he whispered to himself “This is it. This is perfect.”

He stood back and stuck his hand into the deep pockets of his robe. Out came a fist full of keys of all different shapes and colours. He started to search through them, reading the writing that was on all of them. Some looked brand new, as if they had hardly ever been used, they had words like hope and excitement on them. Others had been used so often that the lettering had worn enough to be almost unreadable yet despair and fear could still be seen. All of these were looked at by the old man and rejected, returned to the deep pocket of the robe.

It was near the end of the keys that he found the key he was after. It was fairly worn, as if it had been used a lot in the past, but there was a thin layer of dirt on the metal, telling that it hadn’t been used much recently. Rubbing it with his thumb, the old man showed up the lettering, ‘Love’. He took the key and placed it in the lock. It turned, slowly but opened. He then used all of his strength to pull the door open. Catching his breath he then peaked in from behind the door and smiling begged what was there to come out.

Martin sat in his chair, listening to the clock. Visiting time was almost over and it was another day with no showing by any of his family. He had given up looking at the door and had instead asked the nurse to turn his chair so he could look out over the garden. His mind quickly started to wander and he found his thoughts filled with memories of his wife, Cassie, long since gone. He had had some good years with her, far more than bad but he never thought much about her any more. It was nice to have her in his thoughts again, a slight smile came to his face, he felt good.

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