New Door-n.

There’s a door.

It’s as ancient as days.

It’s made from wood hewn from the first forests and lumber salvaged from long forgotten ships that sailed the lost oceans of memory.

It’s very old.

It’s been there since the beginning of everything, but is covered in a thick growth of ivy and honeysuckle.

That many thought was impregnable.

From one side the door looks locked, but it isn’t; from the other the simplest of pushes will open it.

It opened once.

It’s closed now.

Though the ivy and honeysuckle have been cleared.

But on this side there is no handle.

I knock on the door but no one hears me.

Even if they were listening and put their ear to the other side they would hear nothing; the timbers are thick.

As thick as days.