The Other Side of the Wall

Randomly Written By: James Bachman

Wood Panels.

A door and wood panels.

One chair a door and wood panels.

A man, one chair, a door and wood panels.

The window looking out, a man, one chair, a door and wood panels.

Since the beginning of his life, the man only knew these few things. Looking at the wall, wishing he could just reach out and twist the handle and see the other side. To possibly expand his knowledge of what lay beyond.

The window looking out, a man, one chair, a door and wood panels.

The panels were white, maybe painted that way. So was the door. The chair was blue, made of metal. Fairly uncomfortable.

The window looking out, a man, one chair, a door and wood panels.

Without the window, the man would have assumed he was in purgatory. Outside there was a tree, obscuring any other view. Some days it was raining, others it snowed. On the rare occasion there was a bird. His only sign of other life, the song of a robin.

The window looking out, a man, one chair, a door and wood panels.

How long had he been there? He was older, an uncountable amount of time. He was a man, not a boy.

Occasionally, he would fall asleep. When he awoke, his clothes were different and stomach was full.

Perhaps he was in purgatory.

The window looking out, a man, one chair, a door and wood panels.

What held him back? The door was there, begging him to open.

Fear, no other explanation.

He was afraid of the other side. The few things he knew were safe.

Here he could sit and never know pain. Pain was a foreign concept to him.

But he couldn’t stay forever.

The window looking out, a man, a door and wood panels.

He stood up. No more fear, he had to open the door.

A man, a door and wood panels.

He walked past the window, but there was no tree. Only night.

A door and wood panels.

He was scared. Here in front of the door, his comfortable chair was gone. He was no longer safe.

Wood Panels.

He twisted the handle. There he was, further than he had ever been.

The Other Side.