The Closed Door

  Chapter 1: The Closed Door

This is a story written by my friend Rayhaan Mubarak (be sure to follow him on twitter @rayhaanmubarak (https://twitter.com/rayhaanmubarak) ) and this is just the first chapter. He’ll be submitting the articles as he writes them, chapter by chapter. And don’t worry, he’s much more dependable than me when it comes submitting the articles. Even I don’t know the story and it’s going to be as much a surprise to me as to you when the storyline slowly fades into existence. He hasn’t decided a name for the story yet, so for now it’ll be titled ‘The Closed Door’.

When you have read this please do share this among your friends and communities. If you have any suggestions to make regarding my blog, please do comment. And remember, you too can submit articles for this blog. If you have anything you think is appropriate for this blog, send it along to my email at spitfirerob@gmail.com. I accept nearly anything on this blog, be it reviews, stories, or poems. It can be anything that you’ve written on, or have an interest writing on. I’ll always give you full credit for it, don’t worry. So, without further ado, enjoy this story!

 It was early in the morning when David woke up. He jumped up from his mattress in the living room and ran to the master bedroom. He had not woken voluntarily. His subconscious forcefully woke him up to respond to his mother, who had been calling his name.

She was terminally ill, and needed David to speak to her in order to calm her whenever she got a panic attack from staying in the silence so long. He reached the closed door of her room and called out to her; “Mom? Are you al-right?” He waited for a reply, even though he knew she did not have the strength to speak.

 It had been almost a year since David’s mother fell ill from the epidemic, but despite this, David could not predict her sudden attacks, when she would call for him and then remain silent for days. David could do nothing but wait till she would call for him again, for her bedroom door was locked, and she had the keys to it. She had locked herself into the room months ago to prevent David from her contracting her condition. As he leaned against his mother’s bedroom door, a pungent scent filled his senses. However, his all-consuming urge to open the door was stronger than its scent.

     Life was far from easy for David. He had lost his job when the epidemic broke out, so couldn't afford good healthcare for his mother. All they had was their ancestral home, with nobody else to help them. David could never leave his mother, and because of her disease’s infectious nature, all he could do was serve her all of her meals through an opening in her door. “I wish you would just open this door”, he would plead, but she wouldn't say a thing.

Ever since she called out to him, David hadn't heard a thing from her. He began to worry. He began to feel alone. Truly alone. This silence was mind numbing, for it had been weeks since he last heard his mother speak.

It was all too much for David. He could not take it any longer. The police sirens and the screams of innocent people dying coming from outside the house no longer meant anything to him. After building up a little courage he finally decided to pick the lock on the door, just so he could see his mother one last time. He grabbed his tools, and in the dead of night he started his work. He picked the lock on the door for hours. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead until he opened the door. “Finally”, he muttered under his breath, as his eyes widened with anticipation. He rushed into the room. But, at the sight of his mother, he fell to the floor.  “All this time I could forgive your silence”, he laments. As he begins to incessantly sob, he realizes that forgiveness no longer mattered. He remembers what his mother used to say when his father would cry; ‘a man does not cry because he is weak, but because he has been strong for too long’. David embraced these words as he embraced his mother, for her silence was now permanent.

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Update:
Hello there!
I have some good news and some bad news for all you loyal followers of Rayhaan's story.
 I'll start with the bad news. This story won't continue. Sadly, Rayhaan doesn't have to the time to continue writing a long complex story like this any more.  He might continue this IF he gets the time, but for now this project is off. :-(
But I think you'd love the good news! Rayhaan might have stopped this story, but he still just hates to upset you guys! ;-) (Okay, maybe he loves writing a lot too.) SO, he decided to begin new series of story that are easier for him to write! So let him explain it in his own words, which I will extract from one of our own conversations:
The Flipside- This is basically an idea i have,where i write random,unrelated short stories,filled with irony and suspense.They may be -------- as bizarre as ------------, but only at specific times.There will also be small doses of horror in this series. Should you choose it, each story will be titled: 'The Flipside ---------- ' and so on and so forth.

As you can see I have left some spaces filled with '--------'. These are in substitute to some names of some other article titles that Rayhaan discussed, which I decided not to reveal publicly as they might spoil some of those POSSIBLE future content. This information is not relevant right now to you. ;-)

So, from now on, Rayhaan will submit a collection of stories called 'The Flipside', that is unless, something else goes wrong. Hope you enjoy it!