Madness In The House of Four Nations

A reflective piece from my first Chapbook. Powerful imagery in this one. Enjoy..

I thought I was dreaming as I stared down the corridor that seemed to never end... Warm, soulful colors being overshadowed and dismayed by a chilling breeze... I cringed at the sight of the first door, painted an ominous, decrepit crimson... I approached the door, and watched it slowly swing open...

 In the center of the room, there was a boy, bound to a chair with no restraints... He sat there, staring directly into my eyes as I surveyed the walls of his domain... Pain was evident in that room, and I soon came to realize that his feelings of rage may have been justified by his own trials... I did not enter that place, for fear of my own rage...

 I took a step back and broke his gaze, as the door started to ease shut... A few moments passed before I came to another door, painted pitch-black and outlined with beautiful artistry... I opened the door with a sense of anxious curiosity at my fingertips, and looked upon the figure of a woman in black...

 She stared out of the window, motionless and silent... I carefully surveyed the room as she stood there... It appeared to me that she was the one who created the designs on the outside of the door. I reached out to touch the beautiful artwork on the wall, but heard her whisper, "He would have loved them also..." I looked back at her as I lowered my hand and asked, "Has he never seen them?..." She did not respond with words, but as the door started to close, I heard her start to cry...

 So, I decided to call her room Sorrow, and rested my head against the frame as I said a silent prayer for her... After my kind words were done, I continued down the hall, confused by my discoveries and anxious at the thought of what lied ahead... I walked on for what must have been hours before reaching the next door... It was pale and scarred, and as I stood there waiting for the door to open, my mind was flooded with my own memories of pain and hardship...

 Without a second thought, I started to run as fast as I could... I do not know how true it was, but I perceived that door to be my own; and I started to run even faster at the thought of my undoing... I ran until the point of utter exhaustion, tears in my eyes and re-occuring memories of flame and retribution in my mind... I sat alone in the part of the corridor where the light of day had not yet reached; furious at the depth of my own fears, I could not detain these emotions...

 It was a very long time that I sat there, oblivious to the loathesome, bitter chill. I thought about going back to the door, and what would happen if I could face my own horrors.. In my mind, it was easy to depict a grand battle between my transgressions and I, but in reality I was again set free -but at the same time, tragically constrained by my own mind... I felt alone... I felt defeated...

 I tried to lie down in the darkness, just to collect myself. But I touched something, hidden behind this veil of shadow... It was a door. When I realized that I'd overlooked another piece of the puzzle in my sense of panic, I was over-joyed. I quickly stood and waited for the door to open, but I heard a voice whisper from behind me, "Look at me..." I looked back in shock, but no one was there.

 When I turned back to the door, it was open... The great stone door had silently opened as I turned to greet the whisper... I stepped inside of the room beyond the door, only to be overwhelmed by a vision of majesty... In the middle of what seemed like the throne room of a castle, there were beautiful depictions of almost every wonder in nature, shaded in darkness, silent and empty...

 As I stepped toward the throne, I began to hear indistinct voices that seemed to occasionally speak loud enough for me to make out single words... "Betrayer..." Scornful..." "Slothful.." I looked around to find the accusers, but to no avail... I was shocked, as I heard a voice cry out as thunder, "LET HIM SEE!!.."

 The voices were gone before the echo could fade, and I began to feel a calling from the ancient throne... I walked to the throne and took note of its design and condition, a deep sense of familiarity in the back of my mind... I heard a voice cry out, "Do you not remember me, my friend?.... We built The House of Four Nations...." It was I who opened the door as you stepped down from the throne...

Author's Note

Constructive criticism always welcomed.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Sometime braking up the poem allowed the reader to read with ease and you can allow the set-up of paragraphs to make the visual more alive for the reader. You put a lot in the story in the poem. I'm a fan of myth and story. You brought me in and I wanted to know more. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[WestWriter]

OnceCoveted,

I've read several of your pieces, from most recent to this one, and have found a recurring theme that will not be easily understood by anyone but you, if it's to be understood at all.

It seems as though you are discovering your destiny while finding your path, your own fear of facing the unknown obstacles is your only adversity.

I see in stories, that's my nature. The story I see is one of a narrator who is unaware of his/her flaws, but knows that everyone has them. This person is trapped in a world of shifting sands, constantly seeking the way into the next world while avoiding the way into his/her fears. My advice to the narrator in your pieces is to approach the darkest, coldest, scariest door in his/her mind with a speculative eye.

Let him/her see the door, and describe in great detail what it looks like. If there is a scent wafting through from the other side, encourage your narrator to describe it, along with any sounds. When you have a clear view of that door, break it down. Just barge right in amidst whatever awaits on the other side. Beyond that door lies the world you seek.

Your writing, this piece specifically, gives the impression of a soul reaching for other worlds that he/she knows exist but is unable to reach. As I said before, the narrator's only obstacle seems to be finding his/her own flaws. Give your narrator a challenge. Set a goal, something new. And reach for the door that you continue to run away from. That's your only way out.

Also, put some white space in your writing to help the pace. Break up your writing into paragraphs.

I think these works are about self discovery, facing your fears, and finding your way. And I wish you all the best on your journey!

I look forward to reading more from you.

-Jess