As she walked through the door, she thought of the many times, she had passed it by. The old, abandoned farm house. It was separated from the highway, by a field. It's own small forrest behind it. A peaceful place that seemed to belong to a time and place of it's own.
She walked through a door that must have been, at one time, a parlor. The room, like the rest of the house, was empty except, for a painting that was covered by a black drape.
Slowly, she pulled the cloth aside. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a portrait of a man. Dressed in the era of 100 years ago. He wore a silver medallion that read "Destiny". His hair as black as night. His eyes, the deepest blue she had ever seen. Eyes that seemed to be looking into the deepest parts of her. Eyes full of knowledge, strength and passion.
Mesmerized, by a man, she had never known that must have lived here many years ago, she wondered who he was. What kind of man had he been? Who had put that look of passion in his eyes? Why was she so affected by it?
She turned away to explore the rest of the house. So many rooms. So many open doors. All but one.
As she approached the door, her vision began to blur. Slowly the house began to change. No longer empty. She could hear voices. She could smell flowers in the hallway. There were beautiful rugs on the floors.
The visions didn't scare her. She had had them before. What bothered her was the crying she could hear behind the closed door.
As she opened the door, her hands began to tremble. She was consumed by the sadness coming from within.
Inside lay a man. A bright red stain across his chest. Blood, from a gun shot wound. The silver medallion stood out against it. He lay lifeless. The man in the portrait.
By his side was a woman. Her own tears began to fall as she watched her. She could feel the woman's agony. Her emptiness and despair. The horrible sense of loss.
The woman raised her tear streaked face. The air ceased to move. Her head began to spin. She was drifting into darkness. The face she had looked into.....was her own.
To be cont. at a later date in time. LOL
So, there ya go. My pitiful attempt at writing a story. LOL I can see it unfold in my head. Just have a hard time putting it into words.
To read more entries on this weeks theme...Doors...click, click.