Doors – An unedited first draft

Writing without editing at the same time is something hard, because we tend to over-check our writing, denying us the pleasure of  letting words to flow freely on the page.

We also know that first draft are often as bad as writing can be, that’s why sharing an unedited first draft is somehow scary. However, here I am sharing this first short draft with you and waiting anxiously for your thoughts!


The first time I entered that fixtures store I was really searching for a new window. The only one I had in my tiny apartment was old, the glass was broken and the frame was literally going into pieces. So one morning I decided I needed a new one and went to the store. It was at the edge of town, in a large and short building, with a big park in front of the entrance and huge glass walls kissed by the sun.

Feeling nervous with no apparent reason, I dismounted from my black car. There weren’t no other vehicles in parking. I didn’t expect to find much customers at that time of day but there should have been at least an employee.

The automatic glass door opened by itself when I got close to it and I entered. There was silence, a surreal silence, even the noise from the outside traffic was inaudible. And no one was in sight.

I cleared my throat, hoping to gain someone’s attention, but to no avail. Looking around as if seeking permission to explore, I moved some tentative steps in the store. It was huge, filled with fake walls that displayed all kinds of doors and windows. My steps resounded on the shiny white floor. Still nobody was in sight.

I was there for a new window, but my gaze was attracted by all that doors. I knew that they were there for exposition purposes only, but I had the strange feeling that, if only I had opened one of them, I would have seen something through it.

I kept walking, trying to ignore that feeling, and made a full tour of the store. When I got back to the entrance door, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before: at the centre of the big room there was a big desk with a chair, empty apart from an old red phone. How could it escaped my notice when I entered? Was it really there before? Of course it was! A desk doesn’t comes out of nothing. Does it?

If there was a desk and a chair and a phone, there must also have been someone to use them.  I walked towards the desk but there was no sign of its occupant. That odd feeling about the doors was becoming stronger and stronger. There was a blue door right behind the desk, with a round silver handle that seemed to shout “please, turn me!”.

At that point I was convinced of being alone, so I circumvented the desk and pointed to the blue door. I put my hand on the silver handle, expecting to feel the cold of the metal, but it was warm instead. A thrill went down my spine: what the hell was I doing there, wishing to open a door that I knew led nowhere? And yet I couldn’t convince myself to leave.

Right at the moment when I was about to turn the handle and open the door, the red phone rang. I jumped in surprise and left the handle. Bloody hell! I run back on the other side of the desk. Surely someone would have reacted to the phone ring.

I waited for five, then eight, ten, twelve rings, but nobody appeared. The rational half of my brain was begging me to leave that creepy place, but the other half had different plans. Before I could realize what I was doing, my hand went to the phone and picked up the receiver.

<< Hallo?

<< Good morning Miss Sunshine. We were waiting for you. Could you please open the white door on your left and come in?

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